Tickets for Death by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online

said, “So have I,” with a wolfish grin. “There’s one other thing,” he continued as Hardeman stood up. “You heard Matrix say tonight that he felt it was necessary to publish that item about me in order to force you to go through with the idea of calling me in. Yet you say the board of directors actually made that decision last night. If that’s true, Matrix must have known no forcing was needed.”
    “Certainly he knew it. He simply wanted to create a sensation, and when it backfired into an attempt on your life, he gave the only excuse he could think of.”
    Shayne’s eyes glinted. “I see. That’s a point I’ll take up with Matrix direct. Now, I presume I’m keeping you from the track.”
    “Yes. I should have been in my office before this.”
    Shayne went to the door and opened it. “I’ll get right to work,” he promised. “I’ll let you know as soon as I begin to get results.”
    “Don’t hesitate to call on me for any information I can supply,” Hardeman requested as he turned and went down the hall.
    Shayne closed the door and turned to see Phyllis flying noiselessly across the deep carpet. “There, now,” she exclaimed ecstatically, “aren’t you glad I’m such an efficient secretary? Twenty thousand dollars!”
    “I haven’t earned it yet, angel.”
    “But you will. Oh—I almost forgot—how is your side?” She caught his arm and urged him toward the bedroom.
    “It’s not bad,” he declared. “A bullet picks on a tough customer when it whizzes in my direction.” He grinned reassuringly. “Of course, a little drink—”
    “I know. Your brain cells need stimulating, but you’re not going to have a drop until you change suits.” She got behind him and shoved him into the bedroom. “Blood is all caked on that one.”
    When he started undressing she went back to the living-room and picked up his glass, took it to the bathroom for a refill. She returned sober-faced and anxious. “Promise you’ll be more careful, Michael. Everything depends on where a bullet hits.”
    Shayne buckled the belt of a fresh pair of trousers and said casually, “There’s no danger now. This case looks too open and shut. I’m afraid of it—but I think the hoodlums will lay off of me from now on.”
    “You suspect Mr. Matrix, don’t you? Everybody else does.” Shayne put on his coat and she followed him into the living-room, where he sank into a chair and set his glass on a table near by.
    “I always begin a case by suspecting everybody,” he said.
    She snuggled down beside him in the big chair. “Don’t you think Mr. Hardeman suspects the editor?” she persisted.
    Shayne rumpled up his forehead and answered, “Hardeman hates Matrix,” absently. He took a long sip of cognac and started across the room.
    “What did you mean by asking about Mayme Martin?”
    “Just wanted to find out. Miss Martin offered to crack the case for a grand, and I put her off. I might have made twenty grand by betting one that she was telling the truth.”
    Phyllis caught her lower lip between perfect white teeth, her big dark eyes round and thoughtful. Thinking made her look extremely young—younger than her twenty years. She said, “The chances are Mayme Martin knows a lot if she has been Mr. Matrix’s mistress. If I were anyone’s mistress, I’d not hesitate to listen in at a keyhole.”
    Shayne chuckled. His steel-gray eyes softened upon his young wife. “Mayme may be on the level,” he said, then resumed his vacant stare across the room. He cracked his knuckles audibly.
    “Every day that passes while you’re solving the case costs you three thousand dollars,” Phyllis reminded him sweetly.
    “All women are mercenary,” Shayne grinned. He sobered immediately and added, “A thousand bucks paid to Mayme Martin would net me two if her information would save me a day.” He eased her head from his shoulder and stood up. “Let’s go for a ride, angel.”
    “To Miami—to see Miss