She stood like that without turning while he strode back to the table and picked up the pearls. He came back and slid them over her head, growling, “Go out and grow up. Then come back, and we’ll do something constructive about it—if you still feel the same way.”
Her hand went up to touch the pearls. “But you—you can’t afford to take cases for nothing,” she faltered. “And the newspapers didn’t even give you a line of credit.”
“I’ll get along,” he assured her, “without the credit. But—if you insist—I will collect a slight fee.”
His one arm turned her slowly so her luminous eyes gazed unflinchingly into his. She swayed back against his arm and trustingly lifted her lips. Shayne leaned down and collected more than a slight fee, then sent her away with a little push, closing the door behind her.
His face was morose as he went back to the table and poured himself another drink. Something new had come into his life—and gone out of it.
His brooding gaze fell on the folded sheet of paper listing his cash receipts on the case just finished. He opened it out and read the items slowly. The muted beat of evening traffic drifted up from the street below and into the room through an open window. The sound was not unlike the rumble of a distant drum, but Shayne’s mind was occupied with other things, and he paid no heed to it.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
Dividend on Death Page 17
