Brett Halliday - One Night with Nora

The night was hot, humid, and still in Miami. Clad only in pajama bottoms, Michael Shayne lay spread-eagled on the double bed, hoping for a vagrant breeze to cool his rangy body. For hours he tossed restlessly, and at last fell into a fitful sleep.

A slight sound awakened him. He opened his eyes and lay motionless, listening. The dim light of a waning moon shone through the open windows. He wondered what time it was and how long since he had fallen asleep. He turned on his side, and yawned groggily. He was about to close his eyes again when he saw the rectangle of yellowish light coming through the bedroom doorway.

A shuffling, slithering sound reached his ears. Wide awake now, and alert, he swung his long legs cautiously over the edge of the bed and stood up. Two steps took him to the bedroom doorway. The living-room door was ajar, and the light from the hotel corridor faintly outlined objects in the room.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Shayne observed a sexless, shapeless figure seated in a chair near the wall. The figure was bent double, fumbling with something on the floor. Then it stood up, and hands caught at the hem of a garment, raised it; and when the garment was removed, the slender, curvaceous form of a woman stood before him. Her hair had fallen over her forehead. She tossed her head to fling it back, ran fingers through it, and glided noiselessly to the living-room door.

Briefly, her body gleamed like ivory in the yellowish glow. She eased the door shut. There was a slight click. She turned the knob, made certain the latch had caught, and then turned toward the bedroom guided only by the moonlight from the open windows.

Shayne took a quick step backward, frowning in deep perplexity. He felt a strong desire to stride forward, grab her, and demand the reason for her intrusion; but he did not move. He watched her glide past the door and go on to the bathroom a few feet farther on. She went in, closed the door, and snapped on the light.

Stepping forward again, Shayne stood for a moment watching the rim of light under the bathroom door. A muscle twitched in his angular jaw, and he rubbed it meditatively. In all the years he had been a detective this, he decided, was the most fantastic thing that had ever happened to him. Passion, anger, astonishment, and curiosity intermingled in him as a grin spread his wide mouth.

He crept back to the bed and stretched out on one side. As he waited for the woman’s next move, he tried to identify her silhouette, tried to figure how and why she had gained entrance to his apartment. He looked at the luminous dial of the electric clock on the bedside table. The time was 2:20.

Listening to the trickle of water in the bathroom, he concluded that he had never seen her before. He had no female acquaintances who would act in this manner, and there were no keys to his apartment in circulation among any persons of either sex.

Yet, this woman seemed to know her way about. She had ignored his open bedroom door and gone straight to the bathroom. She acted, in fact, exactly like a wife who had returned from an extra-marital assignation and did not want to awaken her husband.

Shayne’s body tingled again. He would be less than human, he told himself, if he were not intrigued by the situation. He found it extremely pleasant to lie there, in the dark with the knowledge that a naked woman was within a few feet of him, and that, in a few minutes she probably would slip quietly into his bed.

Shayne didn’t have long to wait. He heard the bathroom door open, the click of light, and the slow tread of bare feet coming toward him. His muscles stiffened involuntarily, and through half-closed eyes he watched her go around the bed. With difficulty, he kept his breathing deep and regular.

She smoothed the pillow on her side, then eased herself onto the far edge of the mattress. For a while she lay motionless, flat on her back, her arms circled above her head.

Presently she stirred, turned toward him and moved nearer. He heard the softly whispered word, “Darling,” and her finger tips trailed lightly across his chest.

Shayne gave up all pretense of sleep. He reached out a long arm, clamped a palm on her bare flank, and said, “Hi.”

Her muscles contracted convulsively under his grip. She raised herself on one elbow, and cried out in surprise and fright, “You’re awake!”

“How long did you expect me to keep on sleeping under these circumstances?” Shayne said in an amused voice.

She screamed, and leaped from the bed.

“You’re not Ralph!” she shouted in alarm.

“No,” he agreed. “I’m not Ralph.”

“Then who are you? What are you doing here?” she gasped, backing away. With one arm and hand she tried to cover her breasts, while with the other hand, she attempted to conceal the spot that Eve once covered with a fig leaf.

“Why shouldn’t I be here in my own bed?” Shayne demanded reasonably.

“But this is Ralph’s room. Where is he? What kind of trick is this?” The woman moved around the foot of the bed as she spoke. Her voice was strained with fright and anger. She grabbed at the top sheet to cover her nakedness, but it was firmly tucked in and did not give.

Shayne sat up and propped both pillows behind him. “This,” he told her coolly, “has been my apartment and my bedroom for more years than I like to remember. I’m turning on the light,” he warned. “Let’s see who you are and what this is all about.”

The woman sprang through the doorway as the light came on. Shayne glimpsed a heart-shaped face framed in brown hair, and a slender, youthful body only partly concealed by arms and hands.

“Please, please stay in there until I can get some clothes on,” she begged. “I’ll only be a minute. There has been a terrible mistake. I thought you were my husband. Please stay there.”

“Like hell I will,” Shayne grated. “And let you run out on me before I find out what this is all about?”

“No! I tell you it’s all a horrible mistake!” her voice was sincerely pleading. “I’ll get dressed in the bathroom and then I want an explanation. I don’t understand any of this, but I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

“I could do with an explanation myself,” Shayne growled. He glanced at the clock again. The time was 2:26. He was amazed that only six minutes had elapsed since he last noted the time. He retrieved his pajama top from the floor where he had tossed it earlier and pulled it over his tousled red hair. Then be lit a cigarette and leaned back comfortably against the pillows.

Shayne crushed out his cigarette, got up, and padded into the living-room in bare feet where he turned on the ceiling light. A black suède slipper and a gossamer bit of blue nylon lay on the floor beside the overstuffed chair where the vision had sat a short time ago. He picked them up, strode to the bathroom door, and knocked. “Don’t you dare come in here!” she screamed.

“I wouldn’t intrude for the world,” he retorted amiably. “You overlooked your brassiere and a shoe. Open the door a crack and I’ll hand them to you.”

She opened the door a trifle. Her hand groped through the aperture and he put the apparel in it. She drew back hastily, saying, “It was so dark out there.”

“Then why didn’t you turn on the light? You seem to know your way around pretty well.”

“I still think this is Ralph’s apartment,” she snapped angrily, “and that you’re playing some sort of—”

“Trick,” Shayne supplied ironically. “You’re beginning to sound like a broken record, baby. Get dressed and get out here, and we’ll talk about it.”

Shayne strode to the front door, opened it, and examined the lock carefully. There was nothing to indicate that it had been tampered with. He clicked it shut and went into the kitchenette where he switched on the light and tried the door leading to the fire escape. It was securely locked, and the key hung on the nail where he always kept it.