"searchlightsontheriver" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barton Gary)

case against Sloane, was found murdered in his apartment, tonight. The gray prison clothes
which Sloane wore when he escaped Lewiston Penitentiary earlier were also found in a closet
in Walters' apartment. Police have been ordered to shoot the convict on sight--"

I looked at Ricky, at the brown tweed suit, dripping wet, hanging loose on him. He must
have read the thoughts that were in my mind; but whatever he'd intended to do was halted by
the cry of a police-car siren far up the street.

Ricky whirled, his black eyes glittering feverishly, hunted.

"I'll give them something to shoot for," he snarled. He was backing toward the hall,
the automatic still steady in his fist. Without taking his eyes off me, he scooped my trench
coat from the floor. "I'll be back, copper," he said. Then he was through the door.


It seemed breathless hours that I stood there, cautious of the insane menace of Ricky's gun.
But suddenly I was moving. I heard Norma cry, "No, Johnny!" and I shoved her back into a
chair as she tried to block my way to the hall. I raced into the rain.

My detective cruiser was pulling away from the curb fast, Ricky Sloane crouched over
the wheel, as I hit the front walk. I remembered that the keys had been in the pocket of
my trench coat.

The police car braked to a stop with the sound of screaming rubber on the wet pavement
and its siren dying down.

"Johnny Renn!" one of the patrolmen gasped as I pulled open the door. "Johnny--we got a
call that you were dead."

"Then take the corpse for a ride," I snapped. I crowded into the coupe. "Follow that
cruiser up ahead, Murphy."

Murphy swung into the street after the sedan, now only twin ruby disks fading into the
tarnished darkness.

"Somebody lift your heap, Johnny?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I told him. "Ricky Sloane."

"Oh-oh!"

I felt the cop alongside me squeeze his hand back to his belt holster.

"Save it," I snapped. "He's my baby!"

"He won't be able to get out of the city," Murphy said. "The roads are blocked. The water
front's covered all the way to Maynardville."

"He's not fool enough to try," I told him.