Shadows Everywhere Read Free

perils of making the description so general , Garvy thought. Only this time it hadn't been general enough.
    Sitting back from the paper, Garvy tossed down his steaming coffee in one long gulp. It helped jolt him into a frame of mind where he could think more clearly, try to reason out the mess. The paper had said that Sanders was married and the father of three daughters, the oldest one sixteen. The man was wounded only superficially in the arm and side, and from his hospital bed he was denying everything found in the suicide note of his secretary's husband.
    Garvy walked to the electric percolator and slowly poured himself another cup of strong coffee. Would anybody believe Sanders? His wife? Friends? Business acquaintances? Some would, some wouldn't; but enough wouldn't. The main thing was whether the police believed him, and whether they would track down Garvy's connection with the murder-suicide. If that happened, Garvy had to be prepared to testify that he'd observed Sanders and Janet Windemer conduct an illicit affair.
    The story made good newspaper copy, and for the next week or so it occupied a position of prominence on the front page as Raymond Sanders' personal life was dragged out and shaken before the eager public. His neighbors said that he'd always seemed a loving husband and father, but on the other hand there'd been a coolness about him, and he was seldom home. At the end of the third week the papers reported that Sanders' wife had left him.
    At the beginning of the fourth week a mustached homicide detective named Soreno knocked on Garvy's office door. They had found the report beneath one of the floor mats in Dan Windemer's car.
    Somehow the newspapers got hold of snatches of the report, and they appeared in the evening edition alongside Garvy's photograph. Garvy stood by his report, signed a statement for the police, and refused adamantly to talk to reporters.
    That Friday, as he was eating lunch in a small quasi-western steak house near his office, Garvy was surprised to look up from his sirloin and see that Soreno had taken a seat across the table. The dark, mustached detective was looking at him with professional blankness, but Garvy disliked the faint glitter in his brown eyes.
    "Mr. Garvy," Soreno said evenly, "you are one rotten operator."
    "I've been told that several times," Garvy said calmly, taking another bite of steak.
    Soreno's large eyes were fixed like painted mannequin eyes . "We checked out that report of yours. A girl named Fay Colter says she was with Janet Windemer all that evening. The waitress at Harmon's Restaurant remembers serving them because they forgot to leave a tip. The barmaid at Rico's Lounge remembers serving them whiskey sours. The desk man at the Kingsland Motel doesn't remember either of them at all– or Mr. Raymond Sanders."
    "The world's a busy place–who pays attention?"
    "Mr. Galloway does."
    Garvy sipped his iced tea. "So who's Mr. Galloway?"
    "The man Raymond Sanders was talking business with most of the evening of your report," Soreno said, a brittle note of hatred edging into his voice.
    Slowly Garvy chewed another bite of steak, then just as slowly dabbed at his mouth with his white napkin. "Okay."
    "Okay what?"
    "I lied. It isn't a crime to lie, only a sin."
    Soreno stared at him now with open disgust. "It's a sin and a crime to murder, Mr. Garvy!" he said in a low voice. "Sure as that two-dollar steak is tough, you just murdered two people and almost ruined a man's life!"
    "Not technically," Garvy said, matching Soreno's rigid stare. "Not legally, either."
    "After the publicity you're going to get, you won't be in business in this state tomorrow!" Soreno said viciously. "You won't have an investigator's license or a shred of professional respect! The law can't touch you because you didn't pull the trigger, but you're a murderer all the same!"
    "You're getting carried away," Garvy said. "It was Windemer who killed his wife and himself. He was