Blood on Biscayne Bay Read Online Free PDF

her face white in the dim light, holding the long skirt of her dinner gown up to make more speed.
    “I’m sorry, Miss,” the doorman said. “This gentleman has already—”
    The girl rushed on, crying, “I must have this cab,” and started to climb in.
    Shayne stepped up to the driver and asked, “Any reason why you shouldn’t earn a double fare?”
    “Okay by me,” the driver told him with a wide grin.
    Shayne put a quarter into the doorman’s hand and got in beside the girl who was huddled in the far corner of the seat. “If you don’t mind sharing the cab with me,” he told her cheerfully, “I’ll be glad to drop you first.”
    “But—hurry,” she said in a shaky voice.
    The taxi wheeled around in a circle and went out under the archway. The driver asked over his shoulder, “Where to?”
    “You first,” Shayne said to the girl.
    She was sitting erect now, stiffly alert. “One thirty-nine Magnolia Lane,” she said. “Please hurry.” Her voice broke on the last words.
    Shayne repeated the address aloud, “One thirty-nine Magnolia Lane,” frowning at the sound of it on his lips. The address engraved on the shreds of note paper in his pocket. The blonde was going to Leslie Hudson’s house.
    He settled back in his corner and lit a cigarette, shielding the match in his big cupped palms to hide his face. The odor of her perfume had worn off somewhat and was not too strong inside the cab. The girl shrank back in her corner and did not look at him. He wondered why she had been in such frantic haste to leave the Play-Mor Club. He wondered who her earlier companion had been, and what connection, if any, there was between her and Timothy Rourke. She was not the type to attract Rourke, yet he felt sure that it had been Rourke and not himself she had stared at across the roulette table.
    The taxi sped south past the Roney Plaza a short distance, then turned west toward the bay. There was a half-moon and brilliant stars twinkled in the dark blue sky. The taxi followed a winding course westward along palm-lined streets, finally turning south again on a street paralleling the east shore of Biscayne Bay. The driver slowed and pulled up in front of a tall hibiscus hedge that concealed the lower story of the house, but there were lighted windows in the upper story.
    The girl was fumbling in her handbag when Shayne opened his door next to the hedge and stepped out. He held the door open and said, “I’ll be glad to take care of the fare, Miss.”
    She moved over on the seat and slid out the door, breathing a tense, “Thank you very much.”
    For an instant he caught a glimpse of her broad face in the moonlight. Her features were strained and tight, and she seemed to shrink away from him. She opened a wooden gate, left it ajar, and he could hear her heels clicking rapidly up the concrete walk.
    Shayne said quickly, “Hold it here for me just a minute,” and went quietly and swiftly after her. He saw her swerve from the path and disappear around the side of the house toward the rear.
    He stopped for a moment and listened, then went up the front walk to the porch where a night light burned, and pressed the electric button.
    There was a brief wait. The door was opened cautiously by a middle-aged woman with a pleasant face and well-cushioned body clad in a simple print dress.
    Shayne removed his hat and said, “I’d like to see Mrs. Hudson, I’m an old friend, and it’s rather urgent—”
    “I’m sorry. Mrs. Hudson is not in.”
    “Mr. Hudson, then?”
    “Mr. Hudson isn’t in either. If you’d care to come in and wait—” She opened the door wide.
    Shayne said, “Thanks. I’ll try tomorrow morning.” He went down the walk to the waiting cab, got in, and gave the name of his hotel in Miami.
    The driver grinned as he pulled away. “That dame didn’t seem very friendly—you letting her ride in the cab, and all. I figured you and her didn’t know each other when you got in back there.”
    Shayne