"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 327 - The Shadow Strikes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

changing fire even in the dark of the deserted highway. Finding nothing on the highway, The
Shadow bent down to the body. His long fingers darted out and picked up a small, gold, heart-
shaped watch charm.
The Shadow's glowing eyes studied the small trinket. It was engraved with the initials S.A.,
and was heavily scratched. The Shadow replaced the charm where he had found it on the road
near the body. His long fingers began to search the pockets of the dead man. Then he
straightened up and listened. Voices were approaching from the direction of the nearest house.
Two people, an older man and woman, were running across the lawn of the nearest house
toward the highway. The man was ten yards ahead of the woman, shouting back to her to hurry.
As the older man emerged onto the highway near the body he stopped. His eyes widened as he
saw the shrouded black figure of The Shadow bending over the dead man. The man opened his
mouth to speak, and stopped.
The burning eyes of the mysterious crime fighter stared at the older man from under the
slouch hat. The older man blinked, brushed his hand across his eyes, and shook his head. His
brain seemed suddenly foggy, clouded as if by a thick mist. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
There was nothing on the highway but the dead body and the pool of drying blood.
The older woman stood beside the man. The man seemed puzzled as he looked across the
highway to where the thick bushes were still moving as if someone had passed through them.
The woman touched the man's arm.
"Ezra? Why did you stop?" the woman said.
"I thought.." the man began, and stopped again. "How did you catch up to me, Mary?"
"You were just standing here waiting," the woman said. The man tried to think. He could not.
His mind, clouded by the power of The Shadow, remembered nothing but a vague sensation that
was already fading. His wife's words entered his brain, and he turned to her.
"Of course, I was waiting for you," the man said. "He's obviously dead. You call the police,
Mary. I'll stay here."
Less than an hour later the efficient Sea Gate police had come and gone and nothing remained
on the highway to show that a man had died except a small spot of dried blood. The Highway
Department would remove even that by morning. Sea Gate was an expensive resort, and blood
on the highway was not attractive to tourists.
At Sea Gate Police Headquarters Sergeant Fred Morgan assigned his men to make out their
routine reports on a hit-and-run accident, and to sort and record the effects of the victim. Morgan
took the statements of the only two witnesses personally. The sergeant was a small, dark,
efficient man.
4
"Mr. and Mrs. Ezra Bolger of Sea Gate, is that correct?" Morgan said.
"If you don't know by now, Fred Morgan, you never will," the older man said testily.
"It was one of those 'hotrods' the teenagers drive," Mrs. Mary Bolger said. "I can tell by the
sound. Those cars are a positive menace!"
The sergeant sighed with annoyance, and read from the typed statement of the Bolgers.
"You heard the motor very loud, then you heard the car come around the curve and you heard
the impact. Then the car stopped for a few seconds before you heard it roar away. You're sure it
stopped even for a second?"
"Of course we're sure!" Ezra Bolger snapped.
"And you don't recognize this watch charm?" Morgan said.
The sergeant held up the small, gold, heart-shaped charm engraved with the initials, S.A.
"No" Ezra Bolger said.
"Then presumably it belonged to the victim or the driver of the car," Morgan said.
"Or just about anyone else who drove along the highway in the last week!" Ezra Bolger said.
The sergeant disregarded that and continued to read the statement.