"twogirlsmissing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oliphant Ronald)

I grabbed up the gat he'd dropped, shoved it into my pocket, and then cut Shirley loose.

"You little fool!" I whispered in her ear. "What'd you shoot him for? Everybody'll be
wise to us!"

Shirley's gray eyes twinkled at me, with malice in them. "Wait and see!"

The door behind me swung open. I could feel the draft it created. I whirled about. The
waiter whom I'd called Rudolph was standing there. His soggy face still wore its gray pallor
his upstanding blond hair looked like a dirty brush; his forehead was still beaded with sweat.

"Who...who fired that shot?" he demanded, in an unsteady voice. "The patrons...they must
not be thrown into panic. The boss told me--"

The proprietor of the restaurant, whose name was Scalisi, now spoke. "Yes, I told you
not to let the customers be frightened--to act as if there was no trouble back here in the
kitchen."

"I tried to--" Rudolph began.

"Go back and tell them there is nothing wrong!" the proprietor ordered; "that a light
bulb got broken."

Rudolph nodded, and passed through the swinging doors again.

I poked Thick-neck with the toe of my shoe. "Who's this rough little playmate?"

"That," Scalisi said, "is my brother. He thought this young woman was acting suspiciously
--that she was not really a singer seeking employment, but--"

He stopped and gulped words down in his throat. A guilty flush overspread his sallow-
skinned face. His eyes took on the sullen look of a man who has said too much

I caught the thick-necked man by his coat collar and dragged him to his feet. He was
bleeding.

"What," I asked, "did you do with the other two girls--Kay Kelly and Vera Lane? The ones
who came here to work as hostesses during the past month, and then disappeared?"

I watched his face as I spoke. It was twisted with pain. He was moaning quietly, and
didn't look as if he had an ounce of fight in him-which is where I made my mistake.

For, instead of answering, he suddenly lashed out at me with his right foot, and his
uninjured left hand plunged into his coat and came out with another gun, snatched from an
under-arm holster.

A stabbing pain tortured my shins, as his kick landed. Then I felt a flame of burning
powder scorch my face, as he fired at pointblank range.

Something crashed against my forehead. I felt as if the roof of the building had caved in