"murderjoke" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blackmon Robert C)

about five seconds apart. There were three knocks.

Sandy brows pulled into a frown, Ames got to his feet and groped his way across the un-
lighted apartment to the door. Either Bill Marsh had come back for something, he thought, or
one of the National Indemnity men had come with a message for him.


He reached the door, opened it--and gulped.

Standing in the dimly lighted hallway outside the door was a young woman. Her hair was
smoothly golden about her small head, and she was very pretty. The blue dress she wore clung
to her slender figure, and its color all but matched the blue of her incredibly large eyes.
Her eyelashes were long and dark; her mouth small and red and slightly pouting.

"You...you're a detective, aren't you?" Her voice was low and husky. She seemed to be
frightened.

"Well--yes, I...er...that is--" Fred Ames gulped again. He nodded. "Yes. I'm a detective."

"I thought you were."

The young woman flashed small white teeth in a quick smile; then she was frowning.

"I heard you knock on this door a little while ago, and I thought you were a detective. I...
I'm so glad you are a detective. I want you to help me. You've got to. I think there's a
b-burglar in my apartment. I heard something in there as I unlocked the door and I'm s-scared
to go in by myself. I want you to see if he is in there. Please! I am Gloria Camp, a singer at
the Blue Tavern. The apartment is just down the hall a few doors. It won't take you more than
a minute to look. You'll do it, won't you?"

"Well, I--"

Instinctively, Fred Ames looked over his shoulder toward the windows of Rick Ball's
apartment. He wet his lips.

If he left this crook unwatched for a few minutes and something happened while he was
gone, National Indemnity would break him. But Ball was still in bed, reading. He hadn't
moved for the past thirty minutes, except to turn pages in his magazine. He probably wouldn't
move from the bed within the next few minutes,

Gloria Camp was a very pretty young woman in trouble, and Fred Ames was single.

"Well, all right, Miss Camp." He stepped out into the hallway and closed the apartment
door. "Show me your apartment. I'll take a look for that burglar."

"Oh, thank you!" The girl flashed him another quick smile, and he grinned. "The apartment
is just a few doors down the hall."

She pattered off along the hallway, the blue dress fluttering about her.