By Brett Halliday
Mike Shayne has 2 hours to unravel a murder—or else watch his lover die
It’s 2 hours sooner than nighttime whilst the lady in room 360 calls front table to record a homicide. the home detective sprints upstairs, yet reveals room 360 absolutely empty: no killer, no sufferer, and no girl begging for aid. throughout city, Mike Shayne is riding again to his place of work after a romantic night with Lucy Hamilton. regardless of the quiet and the moonlight, in his bones he is aware that this isn't an evening for love. There’s loss of life within the air.
Later, a girl appears to be like at Shayne’s workplace, claiming her brother was once murdered on the Hibiscus resort. a guy follows in her wake, insisting that he’s her brother, and the girl is insane. Then a killer corners Lucy in her condo, giving Shayne till dead night to resolve the secret and shop his lover’s life.
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Extra info for The Blonde Cried Murder (Mike Shayne, Book 27)
Ok then. ” the driving force handed brightly-lighted Flagler highway and grew to become correct on the subsequent nook. a number of moments later he drew up in entrance of an condo lodge at the north financial institution of the Miami River and reached again to unlatch the left door. “You cross correct in right here, omit, and ask on the table for Michael Shayne. Nobody’s going to trouble you any in the following. ” beginning to get out, the lady drew in a deep breath and informed her significant other, “I can’t thanks sufficient. I—I simply can’t clarify, yet you’ve been awesome to allow me percentage your cab. I’ll provide the motive force adequate to hide at any place you must cross. ” “That’s now not priceless. It’s been a true pleasure—and very fascinating. ” because the woman slid out in entrance of the lodge, she pressed a five-dollar invoice into the driver’s hand. She breathed, “You’ve been extraordinary. ” He checked out the invoice and driven his peaked cap again to scratch his brow as he watched the woman hurry contained in the foyer. “Screwy dames,” he muttered. “It yes takes all kinds—” Then he shrugged and settled his cap down firmly, became to invite officially, “Where to now, leave out? ” 3: 9:39 P. M. The working guy slid angrily to a panting cease part a block north of the Hibiscus resort because the taxi prior to him collected pace and the crimson tail lamps grew dimmer after which disappeared round a nook. He gritted his the teeth jointly tough and slammed one fist into an open palm in a gesture of pissed off anger. within the gentle from the road lamp on the nook forward the place the taxi had stopped to select up its passenger, he had obvious the identify of the taxi corporation and the car’s license quantity. He hesitated just a second, then became and strode again to the lodge at the back of him. getting into the foyer, empty aside from the table clerk and switchboard operator whispering jointly excitedly, he glanced round and went on to a mobilephone sales space close to the door with an area listing at the shelf outdoor. He regarded up the road deal with of the taxi corporation he sought, made a notation of it and went out to a vehicle parked on the lower simply south of the doorway. He bought in and drove to the deal with he had written down, on Northwest eighth road, and located it to be a wide storage with taxis filling all of the parking areas in entrance. He parked up the road and back, discovered a wide, lighted place of work at the flooring point with drivers lounging approximately in entrance, part a dozen others seated in chairs opposed to the wall inside of. past, there has been a wide table with a burly, red-faced guy seated at the back of it conversing right into a mobilephone. past him, in a cubby-hole, a skinny, pale blonde was once conversing in a bored voice right into a microphone suspended from the wall in entrance of her. The lounging drivers checked out him interestingly as he entered and went on to the table. The burly guy placed down the telephone and referred to as again over his shoulder, “Number two-oh-three, Gert. Pickup at one-forty-seven Brickell,” and seemed as much as ask, “Want a taxi, Mister? ” “Not precisely. ” The tall guy with the scarred face frowned and leaned ahead along with his fingers flat at the table.