His legs were shaky and there was a lump the size of a duck’s egg on the right side of his neck and his entire head throbbed painfully, but the three diagonal scratches on his cheek had stopped bleeding while he drove back, and he decided he was in pretty fair shape considering everything. The lobby was dimly-lit and deserted except for Dick, who stared at him with his thin face screwed up in an expression that was a peculiar mixture of awed sympathy and poorly-concealed mirth. “Gee whiz!” he exclaimed, “You look like…” “Like what?” demanded Shayne. “Well, like… doggone it, did she do that, Mr. Shayne? I wouldn’t have believed it. When you two came in together that second time and went up to your room she looked like… well… like you weren’t headed for that restful evening with a bottle of cognac you’d mentioned earlier. But that was before your cop friend barged in, wasn’t it?
What do You think about A Redhead For Mike Shayne?
