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

"Since I don't know," Cranston said, pushing her into the elevator, "who
Johnny is, I can't tell you very much."
The elevator zoomed up to the twenty-fifth floor. She said, "He's an
actor... he works in television. He had a show tonight. A mystery show. It's
on
sustaining every week. It's the Bob Dorry show."
"What part did your Johnny play tonight in the show?"
"Why..." She looked at him incredulously, amazed that he didn't know her
Johnny. "He's Bob Dorry! Johnny Brokaw! He's one of the best known
tele-stars!"
"Far as I know he's all right," Cranston said as the elevator door opened
at the twenty-fifth floor. He ushered the girl out of the car. As he exited,
he
saw the elevator boy grin at him. The boy winked, a man-of-the-world wink. It
said, clearly, little thing like a gal with no clothes on don't surprise me
none. I seen plenty in my time. Puhlenty.
Cranston looked up and down the hall. He said to the girl, "What studio
was the Bob Dorry show due to be televised from?"
"Studio C, right there." She pointed.
Behind that door, Cranston thought, was a dead man. A corpse who had been
murdered in full view of at least ten thousand people. This was going to be a
nasty one. He could feel it in his bones. The killer must have been awfully
cocksure, to plan his murder under such circumstances. With a sigh, Cranston
pushed the door open.
A heavy cynical voice said, "Well... that's the fastest I ever heard of a
cop showing up when you wanted him..." The man who spoke saw the girl on
Cranston's arm. "What goes? Isn't this the cops, Carol?"
She said, "No, Danny, it's Lamont Cranston." She paused. "Where's
Johnny?"
"In with the stiff," the man said. Cranston looked at him and didn't
particularly like what he saw. The man was a little above medium height. He
wore extravagantly draped clothes. The padding in the shoulders of his blue
serge coat hung off his real shoulders by about three inches. The front of his
jacket bloused almost the way a woman's would. He was wearing a crimson shirt
with broad checks of white on the red. A big knotted heavy blue knitted tie
and
brown suede shoes completed his costume. And it really did look like a
costume,
Cranston thought, not at all what you'd expect to see a man wearing on the
street.
He asked, "Carol what, Danny what?"
Carol said, "How stupid of me! My name is Carol Sterne and this is
Johnny's agent, Danny Depper."
"Johnny's agent?" the man said. "I'm the ten percenter for most of the
people in this cast!" He turned the corners of his full lips down. "I was even
the agent for the stiff. Now I own a fast ten percent of a grave." He turned
away. "Big deal! I'm gonna get rich this way!"
Cranston listened, but his eyes were busy. A screen now cut off his
vision
from the corner of the set where the corpse was. The rest of the set was