"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 318 - The Television Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

On the street he stopped for a second as a gust of icy wind cut at his
face. Having stopped, he made up his mind. He spun around and faced the girl
who was hurrying up the stairs.
"Want to talk to me?" he said.
"Oh!" She was surprised. "Mr. Cranston... you are Mr. Cranston, aren't
you?"
He nodded and took her arm. He didn't want to waste any more time than he
had to. If she wanted to talk to him she could do it on the way to the
television studio.
"I need help... pretty badly. I've read about you."
He waited. No sense in probing. They got to the point faster if you
didn't. She was pretty, he saw on close up inspection. Black hair, shiny as
good grooming could make it, a pert nose, big wide eyes, well set, a generous
full mouth... yes, she was pretty all right.
She said, "I've been following you all night."
He hadn't been conscious of it. Was she lying?
"I saw you go into that bar... you stayed in there so long I thought I'd
freeze. I waited out there in the cold thinking... trying to get my thoughts
in
order. Trying to get up courage to come in and talk to you. I might have, but
that was such a tough looking bar. I was afraid of what you'd think."
She knew he'd been in the bar. So she wasn't lying. Funny, he hadn't
noticed her. But then, on second thought, it wasn't. He'd been chilled and
miserable. He hadn't been keeping his eyes open.
"Mr. Cranston." She was breathless from trying to match his long legged
stride. "I..." She stopped and looked at the building to which he had been
hurrying. "Why this is the television studio! Are you going to the station?"
He nodded. He hurried her in the door. Inside, the warmth hit them like a
benefaction. She shuddered and pulled her coat around her even tighter. The
warmth didn't do her any good, Cranston noticed.
He stepped toward the elevator. She said, and her voice was thin, close
to
hysteria, "Has... has anything happened?"
He turned and looked closely at her again. "What do you know about it?"
"I don't, but has anything happened? It has... it has! I can see from
your
face!"
She turned from him to hide her face. As she turned, her ankle turned on
a
lump of ice that someone's foot had kicked loose. She spun on it and fell. As
she fell the elevator door opened.
So it was both Cranston and the elevator operator who saw her fall.
They saw too, as her coat flew open, that she had nothing on under the
coat but a bra and panties.
No wonder, thought Cranston, she was cold.
She hurriedly pulled her coat around her, and as Cranston bent over to
help her up, her face was scarlet. She blushed all the way down to her
shoulders.
She shook her head as though to put everything out of her mind but the
important thing. She gasped, "Is Johnny hurt? Is he?"