Murder Spins the Wheel Read Online Free Page B

you don’t want to talk to the cops or sign a complaint right away, we’ll give you a nice bumpy ride out in a golf cart.”
    “Mr. Shayne, be serious,” Theo said. “Look at him.”
    Harry pulled away. “Not the first time in my life—”
    Shayne caught him as he pitched forward. “All right, we’ll take the golf cart. You’ve put on some weight.”
    “Hell I have,” Harry mumbled. “Maybe a couple of pounds.”
    Shayne turned him so he could look at the flashlight. “How many lights do you see?”
    Harry stared at the flashlight, then waved in disgust. “How can I count them when they keep moving around?”
    Shayne laughed. “All you need is a couple of weeks in bed and you’ll be out here swinging a golf club.”
    He supported the gambler to the cart and helped him up. Harry slumped forward, his head on his folded arms. Theo stood on the ledge behind him, to hold him in.
    “How much did you lose, Harry?” Shayne asked before starting the motor.
    For a moment he didn’t think Harry had heard him.
    “Two hundred G’s,” Harry said softly.

4.
     
    SHAYNE STOPPED HIS BUICK behind Doc Waters’ Thunderbird. Waters had been watching for them. He came down the porch steps, a drink in his hand.
    “This surprises the hell out of me,” he said, looking in at Harry. “You let a couple of punks stick you up?”
    Harry took Waters’ drink out of his hand and emptied it in a long swallow. He handed it back.
    “I don’t remember asking you here, Doc,” he said evenly.
    “Well, for God’s sake,” Waters said uneasily, “if I need an invitation after all these years—I waited a solid hour. I’m under pressure, Harry. I told you that.”
    “You’re a rat and a son of a bitch,” Harry told him. “It’s your own fault you’re under pressure. You know what I’m talking about.”
    His secretary and Shayne helped him out of the car and up the steps. Waters tried to get in on it but Harry twitched away.
    “I don’t want your crummy hands on me.”
    Shayne maneuvered his friend through the front door. He looked at Theo, who said helplessly, “Put him in here, I guess.”
    Shayne steered him into the living room and lowered him onto a broad sofa. Harry touched his head and groaned.
    “Give me another jolt of whiskey before that last one wears off. What happened to Billy?”
    “He was on the right side of the wall,” Shayne said, “so he probably traveled by ambulance. Look at this cigarette.” He held a cigarette in front of Harry’s eyes. “Can you focus?”
    After trying for a moment, Harry shook his head slightly. “OK, call a doctor. But I want to get you moving first.”
    Waters said behind them, “I’ll call him, Harry. Who do you use?”
    “Jason Goldstein, in Surfside.”
    Theo ran in with a pan of warm water and towels, and knelt beside the sofa. “You look awful,” she said with an attempt at lightness. “Hold still, I want to clean you up a little so you won’t scare the doctor.”
    “You’re a cute-looking kid, Theo,” Harry said. “Especially the one in the middle.”
    She wrung out a washcloth and began sponging his forehead. “Don’t do too much talking.”
    “Kiss me.”
    Her hand stopped. “Now Harry.”
    “Mike won’t mind. No, not there,” he said as her lips approached his cheek. “On the mouth.”
    The expression on her face was hidden from Shayne. He lit a cigarette. Putting down the washcloth, Theo took Harry’s face in both hands and kissed him gently and thoroughly, without hurrying. Shayne had ample time to snap his lighter shut, to put it away, to examine the pictures on the walls. She lifted her head.
    “I think I feel better,” Harry said. “Let the washing go for now, Theo. I’m clean enough. Get Mike some brandy. There’s a bottle of Cordon Bleu around somewhere.”
    “He can wait a minute,” she said calmly, and finished sponging the blood and dirt from his face.
    Harry’s hair, the small amount he had left, was graying over the ears.