Free The Violent World of Michael Shayne by Brett Halliday Page A

take drinks from strangers in bars. But this is an emergency! Washington’s reputation is at stake! You don’t want me to die of boredom, do you? How would that look in the papers?”
    He clutched at his chest suddenly and staggered, his face going blank. She clapped her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. Shayne was being watched closely by the bartender and the headwaiter. He laughed.
    “Relax, everybody. I’m in excellent health. Only clowning. I just mean,” he said to the girl, “it’s your duty, and if you have any stublic pirit at all—”
    He looked doubtful. “What did I say? That didn’t sound right.”
    She gave him a grudging smile, showing excellent teeth. “I think you said if I had any public pirit.”
    “I’m not drunk,” Shayne assured her. “I’m not exactly stone-cold sober either, but I want you to know that I’m hitting on all cylinders. What kind of nice first name do you have?”
    “Cheryl,” she murmured.
    “Cheryl! Did you hear that, bartender? Cheryl happens to be one of my favorite girl’s names. What do you say, Cheryl, are we getting out of here?”
    She studied him, smiling faintly. “I suppose if it’s my duty. I do know a place with a very gaudy nude floor show.”
    “Well, now,” Shayne said. “I’m not one of those people who slobber every time they see a female nude, but I’ve got nothing against them. What are we killing time here for?” He finished his drink. She wasn’t drinking fast enough to suit him so he took her glass out of her hands and finished it for her. The headwaiter was hovering nearby, in case he needed help making the door. Shayne brushed him out of his way and headed for the street in a stiff careful walk. The girl followed.
    Outside in the darkness, he wavered from the curb in to the storefronts and back.
    “This town!” he said in disgust. “With all the taxes we pay they can’t even get the sidewalks to stay level.”
    Cheryl, laughing, hugged his arm. He dragged her toward his Ford, continuing to weave and wobble while he examined both sides of the dark street. He spotted a motionless figure in a doorway across from his car. There would be one other somewhere. Shayne didn’t think this would be considered more than a two-man job.
    He wrapped his arms around the girl and attempted to kiss her. But Cheryl didn’t want to lose status by being kissed on a public sidewalk, and while they were pushing and tugging at each other Shayne lurched against his car and located the second man, crouched on the floor behind the front seat, his face hidden.
    “Baby, you’re gorgeous,” Shayne said with enthusiasm. “You’re the nicest thing that’s happened to me in months.”
    “Mike, behave yourself.”
    “What’s wrong with the way I’m behaving? Are you implying I’m not being respectful?”
    “Of course not.” She gave his waist a squeeze. “You keep in good shape, don’t you?”
    “I try to,” Shayne said modestly. “But I don’t get enough sleep. Too damn much else to do. You know what I like about you? The way you carry yourself. It’s the one essential thing I insist on in a dame. Instead of going someplace hot and stuffy, what we could do, let’s get in the back seat and stretch out.”
    She jerked his hand away from the door handle. “No!”
    “If you don’t want to, OK,” Shayne said, aggrieved, “but I didn’t like the way you said that.”
    “I need a couple of drinks first. You’re way ahead of me. I only just met you! Afterwards, if all goes well—” Reaching up with both hands, she pulled his head down, gave him a quick businesslike kiss and whispered, “But not now, darling.”
    Having disposed of that problem, she said briskly, “Get in this side. I’ll drive.”
    Shayne said dangerously, reeling away, “Are you trying to tell me I’m in no condition to drive? I’m the best driver you’ll ever see, drunk or sober.”
    Reeling back, he opened the front door for her and put her in. On his way