The Homicidal Virgin by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online Page B

added, “Damn well planned, too. Jane is no dumbbell. She fixed it so she could look me over in person before deciding whether to confide in me or not.”
    While Rourke listened appreciatively, he outlined the events of the evening leading up to the meeting in the Crystal Room. “Then we went up to her suite for a quiet drink and a talk.”
    “What’s she like? A tough old bag?”
    Shayne said broodingly, “She’s nineteen and utterly charming, and in one of the toughest spots any nice girl has ever been in.”
    “And so Mike Shayne turned down her proposition?” jeered Rourke. “Come off it, Mike. What did happen?”
    “Mike Wayne turned down her proposition,” Shayne corrected him. “I told you over the phone that Shayne is standing by to help her out legally if that telephone rings.”
    “Exactly what was her proposition?”
    “She offered me fifty grand to murder a man for her.”
    “Christ! And you say there’s no story in it? What more do you want for a headline?”
    “There’s no headline in this one, Tim. I’ve given you all I’m going to unless she comes to me legitimately.”
    “You can’t do that to me,” cried Rourke. “You’ve got my tongue hanging out a mile. You know it’ll be in strictest confidence if you say so,” he urged his old friend. “When have I ever jumped the gun on you?”
    Shayne shook his red head adamantly. “No soap this time. She’s too nice a kid, and it’s too explosive to take the slightest chance with it. Look, Tim,” he went on wearily. “I know you and how your mind works. With all the best intentions in the world, you couldn’t lay off this if you tried. You’d start digging for background stuff… just on the chance it might break some time in the future so you’d be in a position to capitalize on it. And I can’t risk anything like that.”
    He splashed more cognac in his glass, glaring at the silent telephone sitting close to his right hand.
    “But I gave it to you on a silver platter. I stole it from Peter Painter and handed it to you for free. My paper is even paying your bills on the deal. Don’t I get some explanation?”
    “No.”
    “Do you want to force me to take it to Painter after all? He would really make headlines out of it.”
    Shayne said, “You won’t take it to Painter.”
    “How do you know I won’t?” Rourke was beginning to seethe with anger. “You set yourself up like a little tin god to decide what is proper for Tim Rourke to know and what isn’t. To hell with that attitude. Even Painter would be more co-operative.”
    “But you’re not going to take it to him,” Shayne stated positively.
    “And I ask you again… why shouldn’t I?”
    “Because I’ve asked you not to.”
    “Nuts! I’m telling you… oh, hell, Mike. I’m not going to try and blackmail you. But you might give me some hint…”
    “Not even a hint, Tim.” Shayne’s voice was very firm. “This gal is sitting on the edge of a volcano with her feet dangling over the edge. The slightest nudge might destroy her.”
    “She certainly seems to have impressed you,” grunted Rourke sourly.
    “She did.”
    There was a long period of silence between the two old friends who knew each other and each other’s moods so well. Timothy Rourke sucked contemplatively on his highball while Shayne stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes, willing the telephone to ring.
    It didn’t.
    Rourke’s voice came to his ears from a seemingly great distance.
    “I gather you turned her down flatly. If she’s so desperate, won’t she go to someone else with the same proposition? Someone who isn’t quite so conscientious as you. Fifty thousand dollars is a nice round sum for a simple killing. Hundreds have been arranged for a hundredth of that.”
    “I’m afraid she will. That’s why I’m waiting for the goddamned telephone to ring.”
    “Hoping it will be Jane Smith calling on the great Michael Shayne for help?”
    “Hoping she will take Mike Wayne’s