Murder Spins the Wheel Read Free Page B

antagonist, Chief of Detectives Peter Painter, he had as few dealings as possible with the cops on this side of the bay.
    He followed the directions of the red flashlights without objecting. A few minutes later he pulled into Harry Bass’ gravel driveway on the bay side of the island.
    The house was lighted up. As he went up the front steps he heard a typewriter clacking busily inside. A chime sounded when he rang the bell. The typewriter stopped. In a moment a girl came to the door.
    Harry had been married twice, and his second divorce had just become final. He had always had good taste in girls, and on the evidence of this one it seemed to be getting even better. She was blonde, probably in her late twenties, though Shayne was no longer much of a judge of women’s ages. She was wearing horn-rimmed glasses. A pencil with a large eraser was stuck in her hair and a light cashmere sweater was thrown carelessly over her shoulders. All Harry’s women had been sexy-looking. She was no exception, but she also looked interested and intelligent. That was new.
    “You’re Michael Shayne,” she said, opening the screen door. “I’m Mr. Bass’s secretary, Theo Moore.” She looked at a small wristwatch. “He’ll be back in a minute. I’m supposed to find you a drink and make myself agreeable.”
    She smiled at him when he stayed where he was. “Come in, Mr. Shayne. I won’t bite.”
    “Does Harry still drive that Ferrari?” Shayne asked.,
    She laughed. “No, these days he’s much more sober and sedate and respectable. They sold him a Cadillac, no less, with backseat television and a refrigerator. I was afraid it might change his personality, but he still seems to be the same man.”
    Shayne said grimly, “Was anybody with him?”
    She reacted immediately to his tone. “Yes, a man named Billy Wallace. Is anything wrong?”
    “If Billy Wallace is colored,” Shayne said, “wearing a white cap and a gun, yeah, something’s wrong. Somebody slugged Billy and set the Cadillac on fire.”
    She took a quick breath. “On fire! I heard the siren but it never occurred to me—Mr. Shayne, wasn’t Harry there?”
    “No. It looks as though he’s been jumped. Do you know where he was going?”
    She shook her head too quickly. “I really don’t.”
    “I don’t want to waste time going up blind alleys,” Shayne said roughly. “You must have some idea.”
    She hesitated. “I think he was taking money to somebody. I try not to know about that part of his business, but I can’t put stoppers in my ears. Apparently a football team won this afternoon when it was supposed to lose—or lost when it was supposed to win, I don’t know which. That’s why he wanted to talk to you. The phone kept ringing for two hours straight. I was in the office, typing up some things that have to be signed before Monday, but I did hear him say once, “How much do you need?’ He went up stairs and brought down a suitcase. Billy put it in the car. Mr. Shayne, what shall we do? The police—”
    “Not yet. I want to check something first.”
    When he started down the steps she came with him.
    “Stay here in case the phone rings,” he told her.
    She shook her head and said stubbornly, “No, I want to know what happened.”
    She got in beside him. They were halfway down the driveway when a car turned in from the road.
    “There he is!” Theo cried with relief.
    Shayne backed up to the doorway, letting the other car into the turnaround from the opposite direction. It was a black Thunderbird. The man who got out wasn’t Harry Bass.
    “Hey, baby,” he said to Theo as she stepped out of Shayne’s car. “Where’s the boss, inside?”
    Shayne recognized him in the light from the porch. His name was Doc Waters. He had recently returned to Miami after several years in the Caribbean and had bought into the lucrative Collins Avenue bookmaking, a district that included the biggest hotels. He was a short man, overweight, with a bright resort