"deathhastwohands" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blackmon Robert C)

The second man drove another slug at Moran, but the shot went wild as the detective's second
bullet caught the man squarely in the knot of his tie, even as he fired. Ho dropped his gun,
folded at the middle as though to make a very deep bow, then went on over on his face and fell
in the doorway, half in the apartment and half in the hall.


Moran became aware of the fact that Wilma Trent was screaming shrilly, a high, thin sound that
made him squint his eyes. He didn't remember hearing her scream before, though she had been
screaming since the first shot was fired. He crossed the apartment toward the two men on the
floor, stepping lightly for all of his solid weight. His gun was up and poised warily.

The first man, in the outside hall, was entirely silent and motionless. He was dead. The
second man was twitching oddly and making wet, choking sounds. He would be dead within a few
seconds.

Moran heeled around and ran toward the chair behind which Wilma Trent was crouching. The
girl was still screaming. She started fighting wildly, blindly, as Moran caught her arm and
pulled her to her feet. He shook her, hard.

"Come on!" he all but yelled in her ear. "There might be others! We've got to get to Charlie
Ricker before--"

He stopped yelling and, pulling Wilma Trent along, ran toward the apartment door. She stop-
ped screaming as he forced her to step over the dying man in the doorway. Hurrying her out into
the hallway, he urged her to the left, toward an open window at the end of the dimly lighted
passage.

Two men and a woman were in the hallway, standing outside open doors, staring. Moran yelled
loudly and waved the gun in his right fist. The men and the woman popped back through their
respective doors, clearing the hallway almost instantly.

Moran grinned tightly and rushed Wilma Trent on along the hall to the window and helped her
out onto the iron platform of the fire escape. Her heels clicked sharply on the iron as he hur-
ried her down the structure. Then he was pulling her along the uneven pavement of the alley that
ran along the rear of the Fairview Apartments building.

"My car's parked in front," he panted as they reached the street. "We'll get it and head
for the Eagle Hotel before the homicide gang gets here. They'd hold us for hours before--"

"Miss Trent"

A short, dapper man in a gray suit and hat stepped out of a shiny blue sedan parked at the
curb near the alley mouth and came across the sidewalk toward them. He looked about forty years
old.

"Mr. Rayburn!" Wilma Trent broke away from Moran and ran across the sidewalk to the man.
"Mr. Rayburn, I have a letter that proves Frank didn't do it! A man at the Eagle Hotel sent it!
He said--"