Brett Halliday: One Night with Nora

“You actually sound serious,” Nora broke in, bewildered and frightened. “How can you possibly believe all that nonsense? I had no way of getting into Ralph’s room. That key doesn’t fit his door. You and the chief tried it last night.”

“No,” said Shayne grimly. “That was a big break for you. The merest chance, but it almost put you in the clear. The police had jammed the lock on Ralph’s door when they broke in, and we brought his key down here to try it on my door. It didn’t fit, of course. But we didn’t try this key on my door. You said you’d come in the front door and we assumed you had, and it didn’t occur to us to test it.

“But after it was all over and you had Ted Granger conveniently dead and framed for the job, you realized that I still had the key. ‘One of these days,’ you must have thought, ‘he’ll absent-mindedly try to open his door with that key I left behind, and it won’t open’

“You knew that would be the payoff. I’d immediately know your entire story had been a lie. But if you could get hold of this key, and get rid of it before I happened to try it on my door, you’d be clear. And you tried, honey,” he went on, his voice suddenly sympathetic. “God knows you tried. That’s why I expected your call tonight. I knew you’d call.”

Nora Carrol had been leaning back listlessly as he spoke, nervously toying with the suède purse in her lap. Her hand dived inside as he ended, and came out with a tiny.25 automatic. She sat up with teeth bared and her finger tight on the trigger.

“All right, you smart bastard,” she grated. “Once that key is gone you’ll never prove a thing. Give it to me.” Shayne shrugged and tossed it into her lap. “You can have it. I didn’t mention that you forgot something else. Your fingerprints are on Ralph’s back doorknob and on mine. If you had wiped those off—”

“I did wipe them off. You’re lying—”

Shayne jerked his right foot, that had the toe of his shoe under the edge of her chair, just as she realized what she had said. She pulled the trigger of her automatic, and the small bullet went over his head into the ceiling. He had her in his arms, with one hand clamped over the gun, while his other reached for the telephone to call the police to take her away.