"deaths_option" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barton Gary)

"Well--Goldswaite had Janet under contract," Lana said, and she reminded me
of a spinster at a Wednesday social. "A couple weeks ago Janet got an offer
from Hollywood. But she's Goldswaite's leading lady in his new show, and he
wouldn't release her. It meant about a thousand a week to Janet."

"I suppose you hadn't any reason for wanting to get rid of Goldswaite,' the
dark-haired fellow said. "You wanted him to release Janet. You wanted her
spot in the show. You were sore--"

That seemed to rub Gracey's fur the wrong way. He didn't like the dig at Lana.

"Lana had no reason," he snapped. "She's still here. That's one point that
isn't in your sister's favor," He said: "And being Janet Marsh's brother,
Wayne, I don't suppose you'd have anything to do with this I rather recall
your telling Lucius to release Janet from her contract--or else-"

This was getting to be a free-for-all. Not only was there a man dead, but
the guy's friends were all trying to pin it on each other. But that didn't
alter the fact that Janet Marsh had scrammed just after Goldswaite had dived
across the table. And she'd had a motive to kill her producer. What a motive!
Keeping an easy grand per week out of the hand of one of these Broadway gals
is a good way for any guy to commit suicide.

The boys from homicide were on the job by then. Someone, probably the
management, had put in the call.

"This how you spend your time off, Kane?"

I turned to look into the rough face of Lieutenant Haley of the homicide
squad. My chief. I ignored the crack. "Lucius Goldswaite, lieutenant.
Murdered--poisoned. He's the theatrical biggie." I thought about Janet
Marsh. Then I said, simply: "Better hold these two for material witnesses."
I motioned to Lana and Gracey. "I have a job to do."

I turned to Wayne Marsh and shoved him through the gathering onlookers to
the door. "We're going to find your sister. Where does she live?"

"But Janet wouldn't have done anything like that. I told you-"

"Well, if you're so damn sure she didn't, you have nothing to worry about.
I want to talk to her. And that won't be as bad as it will when the boys at
Centre Street start to work on her."

We hopped a hack and started uptown. Wayne gave the driver a Central Park
South address and we swung over Fifty-seventh. Wayne seemed plenty nervous
sitting next to me. What's more, he wouldn't open his mouth. Whether he knew
anything or not, he certainly wasn't going to spill. I tried to pump him
about that "or else" stuff he had pulled on Goldswaite. He was just dumb. I
started to get tough, then saw we were rolling into Central Park South. I