Tickets for Death by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online Page A

Martin?”
    Shayne nodded. “We can make it there and back in an hour. We won’t be missed from Cocopalm. No one needs to know we’ve gone.”
    He waited impatiently while she got a fur chubby from the closet and slipped into it. He jammed a hat down on his head and they went through the hall together.
    Chief Boyle stepped from the open door of Hardeman’s room to intercept them.
    Shayne’s fingers tightened on his wife’s arm. He stopped in front of the chief and asked curtly, “What’s on your mind now?”
    Boyle stood his ground, glowering, a pugnacious jaw outthrust. “Where are you going?”
    Shayne said, “Out.”
    “I can’t have a man just walk in here and shoot up the town, kill two men, without holding him responsible,” the chief protested. He frowned weightily.
    Shayne smiled. “Are you going to arrest me for being an old meanie and not standing around with my hands in my pockets while your brother-in-law’s thugs blast my guts out?”
    “I’m not saying the shooting wasn’t justified,” the chief admitted gravely. “But that’s something a coroner’s jury will have to decide. I’ll have to ask you not to leave town until after the inquest tomorrow.”
    Shayne said, “All right, you’ve asked me.” He steered Phyllis forward. The chief backed away a step but did not move aside.
    “Not so fast there. You haven’t said you’d stay.”
    Shayne’s lips curled away from his teeth. He put Phyllis gently aside, but she clung to his arm, her face white with strain.
    “Don’t dive in over your depth,” Shayne warned Boyle. “I’ll smash any man who stands in my way tonight.” His big hands balled into fists. He shifted his weight to a fighter’s stance.
    Phyllis breathed, “Please, Michael,” and tugged at his hard arm. She appealed to the chief, “Don’t be absurd. My husband isn’t going to run away from any inquest. He has a job to do, and—”
    “Don’t make it easy on him,” Shayne said angrily. “I’m not asking his permission to do anything.”
    “Well, now,” Boyle said placatingly, “if the lady gives me her word I guess that’s good enough. You folks go ahead, but I can’t guarantee to give you protection if you don’t tell me what you’re going to do.”
    Shayne snorted and strode past him with his wife clinging to his arm. She smiled up into his sultry eyes as he stalked to the elevator.
    “Why do you insist on being so tactless, Michael?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “You could avoid all sorts of complications if you would just leave a man like that a little corner to back into. He’s sort of pathetic,” she ended thoughtfully.
    Shayne laughed suddenly and in a wondering tone said, “You’re marvelous, Phyl. I’ll never understand how I got along all these years without you.” He squeezed her arm with rough tenderness, then lifted her into the elevator as it stopped in front of them.

Chapter Five: THE SMELL OF BLOOD
     
    THE SKY WAS CLEAR AND DUSKILY BLUE from the pale light of a quarter moon when they got into the roadster. There was little traffic going south, and in spite of the parade of racing cars traveling north toward the race track, Shayne reached the outskirts of Miami in thirty minutes. He glanced at his watch as he slowed for the traffic signal at 79th Street, then swerved to the right off the boulevard.
    He said, “I’ve got to find some place where I can get a check cashed, angel,” in response to a silent inquiry in her dark eyes. “The Lucky-Seven Club will just about be opening for business and that’s my best bet to pick up a thousand dollars at this hour.”
    They bumped across the F.E.C. tracks at Little River, turned left on Northeast Second Avenue. A dozen blocks farther south he turned into a graveled circle drive leading through tropical shrubbery to the front of a solid stucco structure set unobtrusively back from the street. The neon light was not on over the entrance, but curtained windows glowed with