Framed in Blood Read Online Free Page B

“He wanted it for her,” she told him in a dull voice. “So he could leave me. What did he say about Tim?”
    “That he hadn’t seen Tim for several weeks. I gathered they aren’t friends any longer.”
    Betty Jackson buried her face in her hands for a moment. Her cheeks were streaked with tears when she took them away, and there was a wild glint of hysteria in her eyes. “Something happened while Bert was still on the News,” she cried. “I don’t know exactly what, but it gave Bert this crazy idea he has now. Something about a story that Tim got paid money for covering up. Bert accused Tim of it, I guess, and Tim got him fired. All he’s talked about since then is how he was going to do the same if he ever had the chance.”
    “What’s Tim Rourke to you?” demanded Shayne.
    “Just—a good friend.” Color flooded her pale face under Shayne’s searching gaze, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “Tim has been like a brother to both of us.”
    “Does Tim buy you champagne?”
    “Sometimes,” she answered aloofly.
    Shayne studied her for a moment, allowing himself to wonder. He knew Rourke’s weakness for beautiful women. Then he made an impatient gesture and growled, “All this stuff about your personal life doesn’t interest me. Why did you come here?”
    “I want to find Bert.”
    “Start looking in the nearest bars,” Shayne advised her callously. “It’s not more than an hour since he left here. I doubt if he’s gotten far.”
    “Tim said he would check the places where Bert usually goes,” she said dubiously. “But we’re both afraid he’ll try to do—that other—by himself.”
    “You mean the extortion deal?”
    “Yes. He’s been getting up his nerve for weeks. I’ve tried to make him see how foolish it is, but he insists.” She paused, and again her voice rose hysterically. “It’s that other woman! She’s driven him to it—wanting money—offering to go away with him.”
    “That’s twice,” said Shayne patiently, “that you’ve mentioned some other woman in connection with your husband. He gave me the impression he wanted the money for you.”
    “Then he lied! All this last month—”
    Her mouth trembled, and she was making a supreme effort to control herself when Shayne got up and said, “Let me get you a drink.”
    “No thanks,” she said angrily, then added with heavy sarcasm, “You probably haven’t any champagne.”
    Shayne was at the liquor cabinet reaching for a bottle of cognac, his back turned toward her. He grinned briefly. Along with her beauty, he decided, Betty Jackson appeared to have spirit and courage. “No champagne,” he told her evenly, “but I could mix a cocktail. Sherry?”
    “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Sherry will be fine.” She was relaxed with her hands folded in her lap when he came back with two glasses. He gave her the sherry and resumed his seat, took a sip of cognac, and nursed the glass between his palms.
    Betty Jackson sipped her sherry, then said, “I want to tell you everything and get your help. Tim says you’re perfectly wonderful.” A wan smile flitted across her lips and she added, “You know, we always call you Mike when we speak of you.”
    “Tim Rourke is full of blarney,” he replied. “Call me Mike if you like, and I have just fifteen minutes to listen before I have to go out.”
    She moved to the edge of the chair and leaned toward him, her eyes wide and hopeful, her lips parted, as though she considered her thoughts carefully before speaking.
    Her expression disturbed him. He said impatiently, “Let’s get down to cases. I gather you know about the scandal your husband has dug up and hopes to sell for a big price.”
    “Yes. He’s been gathering the data for weeks, but it’s only lately that he’s been talking about holding it back from the paper.”
    “Who’s the man in the scandal?” he asked bluntly.
    “I don’t know. But when I told Tim about it he said it was crazy and about as safe