Murder & the Married Virgin Read Online Free PDF Page A

bookshelves, and deep chairs with accommodating end tables were informally arranged around a long table in the center.
    A thin man of average height arose from one of two fireside chairs near a cheery gas log set in an ornate fireplace at the farther end of the room. He had the appearance of a man who had died in his late forties and had, by some miracle, been reanimated without the restoration of organic function. A fringe of white hair decorated his bony scalp from ear to ear. His sharp jaw and long nose gave him a dish-mouthed look, and his lips were bloodless. His eyes were a mild, murky blue beneath bristling white brows, and he wore a velvet jacket over a vest and white shirt.
    Nathan Lomax’s step was agile as he advanced to meet Shayne. He said in a deep, resonant voice, “So you’re from the insurance company.”
    “Shayne,” the detective said. “I’ve been retained to recover the emerald necklace.” He grasped his host’s extended hand. The flesh was soft and lifeless, but his grip was firm and strong.
    “I see,” said Lomax, and urged Shayne toward the fireplace. “Warm yourself, Mr. Shayne, and if you’d like a drink—”
    “Too near lunch. Thanks.” Shayne’s nostrils flared in an unconscious sniff for the smell of gas. He turned his back to the fire and spread out his hands to its warmth. There was no odor of gas in the room, only a pleasant warmth and fresh, washed air which was apparently forced through the units of a modern air-conditioning plant.
    Mr. Lomax stood directly in front of him and said without preamble, “I’ve been expecting someone from your office. I realize that my wife’s negligence puts me in an odd position to press a claim. I wish you’d tell me frankly how your company feels about the matter.”
    Shayne’s rugged features gave no hint of his surprise. This was the first time he had ever had a client bring up that touchy subject. He fished a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it before saying, “I don’t believe there’s going to be any trouble on that score. It’s up to our legal department, of course, but Mutual Indemnity has a reputation for paying off the face of a policy promptly in a case like this.”
    Mr. Lomax looked relieved. He said, “I hope there won’t be any difficulty. It’s really my wife’s claim, as you probably know. And you know how women are about business matters.” He gestured with a white and purple-veined hand toward one of the fireside chairs.
    Shayne sat down.
    Lomax seated himself in the other chair. “Mrs. Lomax,” he continued, “can’t perceive that her negligence enters into the matter at all.” His murky blue eyes were harassed as he looked levelly at Shayne.
    “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Shayne assured him. “Frankly, we’re not worried about the claim. We intend to recover the necklace.”
    “Indeed? That’s splendid. You have a clue, I presume.”
    “Lots of them.” Shayne grinned wryly. “At the moment I’m following up the suicide of your maid this morning.”
    “You think that she—that Katrin could have taken it? Oh, no, Mr. Shayne. I’m certain that Katrin is—was wholly innocent.”
    “Why did she commit suicide?”
    There was a long silence. Mr. Lomax sighed deeply into the silence.
    Presently he said, “I’m afraid we’ll never know. I presume you are acquainted with the—ah—tragic facts surrounding her death.”
    “Her engagement to the young lieutenant?” Shayne asked sharply.
    “Yes. A very sad case. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand it at all, Mr. Shayne.” He interlaced his fingers and the veins throbbed like long purple worms in the milky whiteness of his hands.
    “That’s just it,” Shayne said. “It doesn’t make sense. I want to look over the death room, and I want to talk to everyone who knew her.”
    “Certainly.” His host arose with stiff dignity and preceded Shayne briskly through the door leading into the hallway and up the