Heads You Lose Read Online Free PDF Page A

gently. “Maybe I can get in touch with his outfit and find out. Wasn’t he at a camp in Georgia?”
    “Y-e-e-s.” She gave him the name of the camp reluctantly. “But you got enough on your mind ’thout botherin’ about Bob, Mr. Shayne. I’ll get a telegram off to ’im right away.”
    Shayne said, “You do that. It’ll be better that way.” He slowed and stopped in front of a small stucco bungalow on 14th Street. “I believe this is the number,” he said doubtfully.
    “This is it.” She had the door open, ready to get out, but Shayne detained her.
    “There’s one thing I want to warn you about, Mrs. Wilson.” He paused thoughtfully and phrased his words carefully. “They may suspect Clem told you more than he did before he telephoned me. There’s a chance they’ll try to harm you… try to find out how much you know. I’m going to ask Gentry to post a police guard over you and your daughter-in-law.”
    “You won’t do no such thing,” she responded with spirit. “Sarah’s got Joe’s pistol and I’d be proud of a chance to use it on whoever killed Clem.”
    Shayne studied her thin face in the dim light. “Well, promise me one thing,” he said earnestly. “If you notice the least thing… anyone hanging around or following you… anything of a suspicious nature… call the police at once. Don’t go out by yourself at night, and above all, don’t let yourself be lured away by any fake telephone calls or messages.”
    “Don’t you worry about me. You go right out and get them crooks.” She got out and Shayne lifted her suitcase from the rear of the car and went up the walk with her. There was no electric button, so he knocked loudly on the door.
    A light came on and after a moment the door opened. The young girl standing in the opening was quite obviously and proudly pregnant. She exclaimed, “Why… Mother! What on earth…?”
    Shayne slid the suitcase inside the door and went back to his car. He had a sour taste in his mouth as he drove away. He slumped low under the wheel. He had inured himself against hurt. Sorrow and grief were for lesser men than he, but as he drove toward Miami in the bright moonlight an acute pain gripped him. Sarah Wilson, the widow of Joe Wilson, carrying his child so proudly within her slender body, and Shayne suffered the agony of the damned, remembering his own slender, dark-eyed wife who had not been so fortunate as the humble wife of Joe Wilson.
    With all his strength he pulled himself erect. He was nearing the outskirts of the business section of Miami. He squinted at the numbers on buildings and realized that the one he sought was in the next block.

 
    CHAPTER
3
     
    HE STOPPED IN FRONT OF A DOWNTOWN OFFICE building and went in. A night light burned in the foyer, but the elevators were not running after midnight. He walked up two flights of stairs and down the corridor to an office door with only a number on it.
    He rapped, then turned the knob. It opened and he stepped inside a large room containing two big flat-topped desks, several armchairs, and a number of filing cabinets.
    A tall man with alert blue eyes sat in a swivel chair behind one of the desks. He wore the uniform of a United States Army Captain, with the blouse unbuttoned and his tie askew. He took a cigar from his mouth and waved a hearty greeting.
    “Hello there, Shayne. Come in.”
    Shayne grinned and asked, “Don’t you ever sleep, Captain?”
    Captain Ott yawned. “The Military Intelligence never sleeps. Bad conscience keeping you awake, Mike?”
    “A conscience is a luxury no private dick can afford.” He unbuttoned his trench coat and shrugged it off. He took the bottle of cognac from a pocket before throwing the coat over the back of a chair. Arching bushy red brows quizzically, he invited, “Join me in a nip?”
    “Sorry,” the captain said regretfully. “Not while I’m on duty.” He opened the center drawer of the desk and took out a paper cup which he tossed to Shayne.