"William G Bogart - Killer 'Round The Bend" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bogart William G)

KILLER 'ROUND THE BEND

Crime on an Ohio River boat!

by William G. Bogart

FOG rolled in from the murky Ohio River and crept over Front Street, making saffron disks
of the dismal street lamps. Bill Shane, detective, striding a]ong the water-front district
of old warehouses and cheap beer joints, hunched his lean shoolders, pulled his head deeper
into the upturned collar of his topcoat.

Bill Shane wondered if there'd be any trouble when he sought out the man known to him as
Benny Smith.

An hour earlier he had received the phone call from the Levee Bar, and Benny, the informant,
had said to look for him there. Benny had information about the murder of Andrew Benson.
Information that meant plenty to Bilt Shane.

For Andrew Benson was the man Bill Shane had been assigned to accompany on the slow trip down
the Ohio River!

Ahead, through the wet gloom, Bill Shane saw the small red neon sign: THE LEVEE BAR. Just
another beer joint in a row of smelly river-front hang-outs. He moved ahead quickly.

Inside the place, there was thick smoke and the smell of beer coils that needed cleaning. The
short bar was crowded with burly stevedores and workers from the river packets; big men, solid
and unsmiling and seamy-faced from years on the river.

Benny--whom Bill Shane had yet to meet--had said on the phone: "I'm a little guy that don't
look like much. Look for me in the first booth past the bar."

Faces turned toward Bill Shane as he picked his way carefully past beer-slopped tables. The
detective realized that his quick manner, his business suit marked him as a city fellow.
Those here wore rough jackets, sweaters. They talked with a slow drawl.

He saw the thin, sickly-faced man popping up from a booth in the rear part of the place.
Nervous eyes sent an appealing look toward the detective, and the small man started to call,
"Here l am, Mister Shane. I was--"

And instantly others moved around the speaker, circted him and started walking him toward a
rear doorway.

Bill. Shane rapped, "Say, what is this?" and followed.

But only for two or three long strides. Immediately he found himself likewise in the center
of a grim-jawed group. He was aware of breaths that were sour with beer, of sweaty, wide-
shouldered bodies. A big fist clamped on his arm and a man said, "Outside, you damned Yankee!"

Perhaps none saw the sudden change in Bill Shane's eyes. They grew a shade darker, became
cold steel.