No Pockets In a Shroud by Richard Deming

Author:Richard Deming
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery;detective;pulp;hardboiled;handicapped
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2018-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

In the Line of Fire

Eleanor’s car—she was “Eleanor” instead of “Mrs. Wade” since our momentary love scene—was a Zephyr convertible. She drove as though she were part of the car, and kept her eyes on the road.

As we turned on to the main highway, she said: “I’m a fool. Why should I drive you to a date with another woman?”

“Why not?”

She frowned without moving her eyes from the concrete strip. “Do you think I throw myself in the arms of every man I meet?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

Her face flushed and her eyes angrily flicked sidewise, then returned to the road. “I happen to be slightly in love with you, you ugly ox!” Her chin set and she pressed down on the gas pedal.

Neither of us spoke again until the car had swept up the broad drive of El Patio and come to a smooth top below the bronze doors.

Then she said: “Old ladies, children, and dogs. How does this blonde Italian qualify? As a child or a dog?”

“Don’t nag,” I said.

“Are you in love with her?”

“I’ve known her for years.”

“I didn’t ask that!”

I examined her set face curiously. “I’m not in love with her.”

Immediately she smiled. “I’m not jealous really. But I do like you. I have since the minute you walked in Louis’ office. We’d make a good team.”

“You’re on a team already.”

“Byron? I’ll leave him tomorrow, if you want.”

She looked up at me seriously and I doled her out a wary grin.

I said, “I’ll think it over,” stepped out of the car and let the door swing shut. “Thanks for the ride.”

A small crease appeared in her forehead and her lower lip thrust out. “You’re laughing at me again. I really mean it.”

“I really mean I’ll think it over.”

She made a face, shoved the car in reverse and backed down the drive toward the highway at forty miles an hour.

It was eight minutes to nine when Greene let me through the great double doors.

“Fausta ain’t down yet,” he said.

“Then I’ll look around Louie’s office again while I’m waiting,” I told him.

Wandering around the office, I noticed that whoever had cleaned up the mess Bagnell’s blood made had done a thorough job. No trace remained, not even a discolored spot on the carpet. I moved on into the bathroom and pulled the light chain. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular; I was just looking. Getting down on my knees, I lit a match and peered under the tub. Nothing was there except a little lint. I glanced into the tub, into the commode and then into the washbowl. The oil beads I had previously noticed still ringed the drain. I touched the brass strainer ring and it moved slightly, for it was the type that lifts out for cleaning.

I don’t know whether instinct, a shadow or a slight sound warned me, but suddenly I had the impulse to duck and I obeyed it.. As I threw myself backward and down, sound bellowed in the small room and the mirror over the washstand shattered, showering me with pulverized glass.

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