"RICHARD_M_ELLIS_-_THE_DARK_WELL" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ellis Richard M)

Carson glanced at me, his eyes twinkling. I had an idea he was thinking, as I was, that we'd finally reached the cause for Blanche Ames' violent disapproval of this girl.

"You say you work in a cocktail lounge?" I asked.

Sheila Reynolds bristled. "Something wrong with that?"

"Not a thing."

"Okay. Well, that's all there was to it. After she left here, I tried to phone Lloyd but I couldn't reach him. No answer either at his home or his office. I never did get him." Tears suddenly welled in her eyes.

"What time did she leave?"

"Right around eight-thirty sooner than she expected to be leaving, no doubt. Thought she could bully me!"

"Uh huh. How was Mrs. Ames dressed, Sheila?"

"How was I didn't really notice. A light tan polo coat over a dark brown, woolen sheath, with a silver brooch at the neck, low-heeled brown pumps."

"Yeah, all right," Carson broke in. "We may want to see you again, if you don't mind stickin' around a day or two."

She said grimly, "I'll be here. Don't worry about that. My full name is Sheila Reynolds Parmeter. Lloyd and me were married last week, in the city. He wanted to keep it quiet until he could talk his sister around. Fat chance!"

The sun was almost overhead when Carson and I left the motel and drove back toward the downtown area.

"So much for that," I said. "Blanche didn't want her poor little brother to get tangled up with a barmaid. She went out last night to try to buy the girl off."

The sheriff nodded absently. "Ain't hard to see why Lloyd went off the deep end, even to marryin' the gal."

I agreed. Remembering her red hair and snapping green eyes, I added, "It also isn't too hard to imagine her putting a shiv in someone if she got stirred up enough." Carson didn't answer. We reached the courthouse square in the center of Monroe's meager business district. Since it was Saturday, the ancient courthouse was closed, except for the sheriff's office on the ground floor, but there were a good many people milling around outside. It wasn't every day that two more or less leading citizens got themselves murdered, and there was something of a holiday atmosphere among the crowd. Carson and I managed to get inside before we were spotted, and went along the echoing corridor to his office.

Buck Mullins was on the phone when we entered the outer office and crossed to the sheriffs private cubbyhole on the far side. The deputy joined us a minute later.

"I been usin' that phone so much my ears is ringin'," Mullins grumbled. "For all I found out, I might as well not've bothered. A lot of nothin'."

Carson leaned back in his swivel chair and propped a size twelve on the edge of his desk. "Let's hear it."

Mullins scowled at a scribbled notepad in his hand. "I couldn't get a line on where the old lady went last night."

"We dug that up."

"Huh. Well, Parmeter closed his office about five-thirty and drove over to a private bottle-club he belonged to. Avery's out now checkin' with the guy who runs the joint. Ought to be back any minute."

Carson nodded. "Anything more from Doc Johnson?"

"He called a while ago. Says the old lady's skull was cracked, and that she was for sure knocked out before she was killed. And the slug from Parmeter's chest is a twenty-two. Bent up some, but prob'ly not too much for ID, if we should find the gun. He also kind of closed in the time. Now he says those two died right around nine o'clock, give or take an hour on either side."

"All right. What else have you got?"

Mullins growled, "I told you, nothin'. Nobody I talked to had a bad word to say about Mrs. Ames. Parmeter ain't quite so popular but it don't appear he had any particular troubles, outside this business with his sister him wantin' to get married." Mullins suddenly chuckled lewdly. "You believe ever'thing you hear about him, he must've played footsie with half the females in Monroe."