Novel 1966 - The Broken Gun (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF

of them. You must fear them all! I was to warn you, señor to get away quickly!”
    “How did Pio know I was here?”
    “He knows, señor, but I work on the ranch and it was my brother who served your drink, only I have no business at headquarters, and if I am found here I shall be suspected.”
    “One more thing. Do you know the name of Toomey?”
    “Aaah? So that is it? I—”
    There was a faint whisper of approaching footsteps and the man vanished like a ghost. For a moment a shadow showed in the bedroom door, and was gone. Then a shadow against the open window, and that was all.
    Instantly I pushed a chair over and under cover of the sound I flicked the switch on my tape recorder. The door whipped open without warning, but as the lights went on I was calmly dictating.
    “Marie,” I was saying, “delete the last three lines and mark the pages for a change from Spanish to Portuguese. That way I can use Macao. Get me a rundown on Macao as it is today, everything in current publications over the past few years.
    “Particularly, anything dealing with Red China. You know the sort of thing I’ll need. You should get my first tape by Monday, and I shall be flying in by the middle of the week. I have an appointment with Randall on Friday.”
    As I spoke I glanced over my shoulder. Colin Wells stood just inside the door, still gripping the knob in his left hand, the hardness in his eyes fading to doubt as he saw the tape recorder.
    “Excuse me, Colin. You know how it is with writers. We never stop working. Others can leave their job at the office, but a writer carries it with him, buzzing around in his head wherever he goes. Am I late for dinner?”
    Without waiting for a reply, I spoke into the mike. “I deleted the last bit of dialogue, Marie. Too melodramatic.” After a momentary pause I added, “Murder is often very undramatic. At least, unannounced.”
    Colin’s eyes swept the room, then he crossed to the bathroom, where he even pulled back the shower curtain.
    “Is the maid taking care of you? We have to check on them, you know. I don’t want my guests lacking anything, particularly towels.”
    Then almost as an afterthought, he said, “Yeah, supper’s ready. I thought you’d forgotten. We eat earlier than folks do in town.”
    He went back to the door and, flicking off the recorder, I followed him.
    The room was bugged, I felt sure now. Wells had been listening, and had come down on the run hoping to catch whoever was warning me. He had almost succeeded. It was unlikely that he was fooled by the tape recorder, but he would be in doubt, for what I had said might well be true.
    The dining room was bright with silver and crystal. We walked past the door and entered the playroom, a comfortable room with sofas and easy chairs, and at one end a pool table. Nearby a TV set was going, with nobody watching.
    Doris glanced up, her expression enigmatic, her eyes flickering from me to Colin. “You have beautiful nights,” I said to her; “it is no wonder you like living here.”
    Colin had started away, but he stopped and looked back. “My people built this place, Sheridan, built it from scratch, and we’ve reason to love it. Nobody is going to take it from us. I mean…
nobody!
”
    Lacking anything else to say, I commented, “If you can keep the real estate people away, you should be all right.”
    Mark Wilson, talking to a big young man at the other end of the table, faced around. “What do you mean by that remark?”
    Belle interrupted, ignoring him. “Real estate people in Arizona aren’t as bad as in Los Angeles, Mr. Sheridan. Out there they seem to be trying to buy every empty piece of land for a subdivision.”
    “Dinner is on the table,” Doris suggested. “If you boys can stop talking real estate, we can eat.”
    Belle got up at once. “You must be hungry,” she said to me, “and I certainly am. Come on!”
    As we reached the table, Belle turned. “You haven’t met Colin’s brother. This is