Tickets for Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

agony when I listened to them take their places beside the door and wait to hear you knock.” He paused to pluck a small piece of cotton from his tongue. Shayne wondered
     if that accounted for the high-flown manner in which he spoke and concluded that it didn’t. “When the shooting began I couldn’t conceive how you might escape with your life. If they had succeeded in killing you, I would certainly have been next.”
    “It’s lucky for you they left the door open a crack so you wouldn’t smother,” Shayne interposed gravely when the man stopped for a long-drawn breath.
    “You can’t imagine my relief,” Hardeman continued, “when I heard the others enter the room and I gathered that you had actually turned the tables on those murderous rogues. I must confess, though, no one seemed unduly curious as to my whereabouts,” he ended with a reproachful glance at the men standing around the room.
    “Did the thugs do any talking that made sense?” Shayne demanded. “Could you gather who or what was behind the attack on me?”
    “Very little.” Hardeman pursed his lips, spat out another small piece of cotton, then shook his head. He whipped out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “They assured me that I would not be harmed if they succeeded in their designs on you. I didn’t put any trust in their promise. The motivation behind the attack was evidently your appearance here in Cocopalm to investigate the counterfeit racing-tickets.”
    “It seems a reasonable assumption,” Shayne conceded dryly. “And I think I can thank our crusader editor for arranging things so neatly in my behalf. His front-page story was an invitation for something like this.”
    “Don’t thank me,” Matrix protested with a thin smile. “It was printed as a public service. Hardeman has been reluctant to take the bull by the horns and call in outside help, and I forced his hand by making you front-page news after he agreed to ask for your help.”
    “And making it impossible for me to get any line on who was behind the attack,” Shayne pointed out harshly. “Instead of having those directly interested know I was coming, you made it common knowledge.”
    “I certainly had no intention of broadcasting it,” Hardeman avowed. He shot a malevolent glance at the editor. “I might even suggest that Matrix hoped for some such result when he printed the story.”
    “You’ve got to admit it worked, if that was what I wanted,” Matrix chortled. “This little affair is going to sell a lot of papers tomorrow.”
    Shayne turned away from him with a grunt of disgust. “Let’s go to my room for our conference, Mr. Hardeman.” He stooped to pick up his automatic, which still lay on the floor, but Chief Boyle stopped him.
    “Better let me have that gun. I’m not rightly sure but what I ought to lock you up to boot.”
    Shayne straightened up with the weapon dangling from his fingers. “I told you I had a permit to carry it.”
    “There’s been killing done,” the chief persisted doggedly. “Don’t you go trying to push me around like you push the cops in Miami. Inciting trouble, that’s what you’re doing, coming in here and stirring things up.”
    Shayne snorted and thrust the gun in his belt. He turned to Hardeman and asked curtly, “Are you coming?”
    “See here, now,” the chief began, but Shayne strode past him to Phyllis, who held out both her hands as if she doubted her strength to stand alone. He lifted her from the chair and held her firmly by the arm, steering her from the room.
    Hardeman followed after a moment’s hesitation, and Matrix edged past Boyle, chuckling maliciously. “You’d better call up Grant MacFarlane for further orders. He’s likely to be very unhappy about all this.”
    At the door of their suite Shayne stood aside while Phyllis and Hardeman passed through. Gil Matrix came up behind them and aggressively caught the door knob as Shayne started to close the door.
    “You’d better let me