Murder Is My Business by Brett Halliday Page B

set his glass on the table, and pulled up an ottoman and sat down. A silver cigarette box stood open on the table. He took two cigarettes from it and reached a long arm out to put one between her lips. She lay back and watched with halfclosed eyes as he struck a match. After he put the flame to her cigarette she said softly, “I’ve been lonely, Michael. So damned lonely.”
    He asked abruptly, “How did your father take the news tonight?”
    “I wasn’t here when they came for him.” She pushed herself up with both hands on the arms of the lounge. “Don’t tell me,” she said drearily, “you came here just to talk about Father and the case, Michael.”
    “Was that all Lance wanted tonight?”
    She winced, and her black eyes widened to stare at him. “What do you mean?”
    “You know what I mean, Carmela.”
    She said vehemently, “I haven’t seen Lance — since today in your hotel room. You saw how he looked atme then. He hates me. He thought he had caught us having an assignation.”
    “I met Lance driving away as I came up.” She lowered her eyes until her long black lashes veiled them. “You’re mistaken,” she said. “Lance hasn’t been here. No one has been here. I waited—” She reached for her glass and emptied it without opening up her eyes, set it on the table, and folded her hands laxly in her lap.
    “What do you think of Josiah Riley’s story?”
    She twisted her mouth bitterly. “Do we have to talk about that?”
    “I’ve got it on my mind,” Shayne confessed. “It’ll stay on my mind until you’ve answered a few questions — and I don’t want anything else on my mind when I kiss you again.”
    “Are you going to kiss me?”
    “Let’s talk about Josiah Riley first. Do you know him?”
    She moved restively. “I used to know him quite well. Pour me another drink, Michael.”
    He put ice and a lot of whisky in her glass, and a little soda. He put the glass in her outstretched hand.
    “When he was working for your father?” he prompted.
    “Yes. Just a little while before I went to Europe. I remember when he reported to Father that the vein had mined out, and how low Father was. And how angry he got when he investigated personally and discovered Joe Riley was mistaken.” She drank half the whisky from her glass and relaxed against the cushions.
    “Do you think it was an honest mistake?”
    “I think so. Father didn’t. He was convinced thatJoe hoped he would abandon the property so he could later buy it cheaply and pretend to rediscover the vein.”
    “That has been done,” Shayne agreed.
    “But not by men like Joe Riley.” She opened her eyes wide, but her voice was thick and lifeless. “I’m sure he was honest in his report.”
    “All the more reason for Joe to hate your father for ruining him in the mining business.”
    “He does hate Father. He has never tried to hide that.”
    “What about his accusation today?” Shayne persisted. “What do you make of it?”
    Carmela mumbled, “I don’t know. What does it matter what I think?” She lifted her head and finished the last of the whisky, carefully set the glass on the table, and fell back inert. “I’m getting drunk. Really drunk, Michael. I’ve never done that with any man before. I’ve always been afraid I’d act awful. You won’t mind, will you? If I get drunk and awful?”
    Shayne said, “I won’t mind.”
    “It’s good to just — let go.” Her black eyes were wide and staring again, covered with a film of tears. “I’ve held in — too long. I’ve always thought—”
    “That Lance might come back?” Shayne supplied.
    She nodded, closing her eyes and forcing two tears onto her thin cheeks. “I’ve been an awful fool, Michael.”
    “You were a fool ten years ago.”
    “And I’ve been one ever since.” She pulled herself up with an effort, and cried wildly, “I’ve kept myself for him! Do you know what that means? Do you know what it means to be a woman of thirty? I’m