Framed in Blood Read Online Free

way with you a while ago, and I’ve been hanging around the lobby waiting until he left. He’d be sore if he knew I came here.”
    “Why?”
    “Because—well, look, Mr. Shayne,” Brooks said nervously, “Bert and I have been teamed on a story for some time. I know he’s got onto something big down at City Hall, and he’s holding out on me and the Trib. I want to know why—what’s he planning to do.”
    “What makes you think I know?”
    “Because of hints he let drop,” said Brooks, folding his arms across his massive chest. “It’s my story as much as it is his, and I have a right to know why he doesn’t break it into print.”
    “Why don’t you,” Shayne parried, “ask Bert?” He remained solidly in the doorway and showed no inclination to invite the reporter in.
    “I have. But he’s gotten funny lately. I’ll tell you why I think he was here, Mr. Shayne, and if I’m wrong you can say so, and I’ll beat it.”
    Shayne turned and waved a big hand toward the chair Bert Jackson had vacated and said, “I’ve got a few minutes to waste.”
    Ned Brooks sat down carefully to preserve the sharp creases in his slacks. “I think Bert’s got some crazy idea of selling the story for cash instead of turning it in and he came to you for help in putting over some sort of deal.”
    Shayne lowered one hip to the scarred desk. The blank expression on his face told the reporter nothing.
    Brooks wet his lips nervously and went on. “You can see why that worries me. We’re working on it together, and anything he does reflects on my integrity, also. Don’t let him do it, Mr. Shayne. You can prevent it if you will. Aside from my own personal connection with it, I hate to see Bert get mixed up in a shady thing like that. He’s married to a nice girl and he’s got a big future in the newspaper business if he’ll just be patient.”
    “What’s come between Bert and Tim Rourke?” Shayne asked abruptly.
    Ned Brooks hesitated, shifting his gaze from the detective’s. “They had a bust-up. About a year ago when Bert got fired from the News.”
    “What do you know about it?”
    “Well, I—not too much,” Brooks hedged.
    “Do you know Bert Jackson’s wife?”
    “Sure. Betty’s a swell kid. I’d feel sorry for her if anything happened to Bert.”
    “That’s not exactly the way he told it to me.”
    “You mean Marie? What did Bert tell you about her?”
    “Not much,” Shayne said, and it seemed to him that Ned Brooks was faintly relieved by his reply.
    The reporter leaned back and produced a neat leather case from an inner pocket. He took some time selecting a cigarette, lit it, and asked anxiously, “Was I right about what Bert wanted from you?”
    “I don’t discuss the private affairs of my clients,” Shayne told him shortly.
    “Then Bert is a client? You agreed to help him?”
    “Or the private affairs of people who come to me, whether I take them as clients or not.”
    “Would you tell me this one thing?” urged Brooks. “Did he mention my name at all?”
    Shayne considered for a moment, then said flatly, “No. And now I’ve wasted all the time I have to spare.”
    Ned Brooks arose swiftly, and was overprofuse in his thanks and apologies as he went to the door.
    Shayne waved him away impatiently, and frowned when the door closed behind him. He wondered who Marie was, then angrily pushed the question from his mind, reminding himself that it was absolutely none of his affair.

 
Chapter Two
    FRIGHTENED FEMALE
     
    MICHAEL SHAYNE WAS STEPPING from the shower half an hour later when his phone rang. He snatched up a heavy towel and dried himself sketchily as he went to answer it.
    A throaty female voice with a suggestion of tears came over the wire. “Mr. Shayne? Can I see you?” There was a faint note of familiarity about the voice, but he couldn’t place it.
    “Where are you?” he asked.
    “Downstairs. May I come up?”
    “Who are you?” Shayne said swiftly, dabbing at his wet body