THIS WAY FOR A SHROUD
JAMES
HADLEY
CHASE
CHAPTER ONE
THE telephone bell rang sharply as Janey Conrad came briskly down the stairs. She was wearing her new evening dress: a strapless, sky-blue creation, the bodice of which was covered with silver sequins. She was looking her best, and she was aware of it.
At the sound of the telephone bell she stopped in mid-stride. Her animated expression turned to exasperated anger: a transformation as swift and as final as the turning off of an electric lamp.
'Paul! Don't answer it,' she said in the cold quiet voice that always came with her anger.
Her husband, a tall, loose-limbed, powerfully built man in his late thirties came out of the lounge. He was wearing a tuxedo and carried a soft black hat in his hand. When Janey had first met him he had reminded her very sharply of James Stewart, and the resemblance had been the main reason why she had married him.
'But I've got to answer it,' he said in his soft, drawling voice. 'I may be wanted.'
'Paul!' Her voice rose a little as he walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver.
He grinned at her, motioning with his hand for her to be quiet.
'Hello?' he said into the mouthpiece.
'Paul? This is Bardin.' The Lieutenant's voice boomed against Paul's ear and spilt into the quiet tense hall.
As soon as Janey heard the voice, she clenched her fists and her mouth set in a hard, ugly line.
'You'll want to be in on this,' Bardin went on. There's been a massacre up at Dead End: June Arnot's place. We're knee deep in corpses, and one of them is June's. Brother! Is this going to be a sensation! How soon can you get out here?'
Conrad pulled a face and looked at Janey out of the corners of his eyes. He watched her walk slowly and stiffly into the sitting-room.
'I guess I'll be right over,' he said.
'Swell. I'll hold everything until you get here. Snap it up. I want you here before the press get on to this.'
'I'll be right over,' Conrad said, and hung up.
'Goddamn it!' Janey said softly. She stood with her back to him, facing the mantelpiece.
'I'm sorry, Janey, but I've got to go . . .'
'Goddamn it, and you too,' Janey said without raising her voice. 'This always happens. Whenever we plan to go out, this happens. You and your stinking police force!'
'That's no way to talk,' Conrad said. 'It's a damn shame, but there's nothing we can do about it. We'll go tomorrow night, and I'll make certain we do go.'
Janey leaned forward and with the back of her hand she swept the ornaments, photograph frames and the clock off the mantelpiece, to crash into the hearth.
'Janey!' Conrad came quickly into the room. 'Now stop that!'
'Oh, go to hell!' Janey said in the same cold, quiet voice. She stared at Conrad's reflection in the mirror, her eyes hostile and glittering. 'Go and play cops and robbers. Never mind about me, but don't expect to find me here when you get back. From now on, I'm going to have fun without you.'
'June Arnot's been murdered, Janey. I've got to go. Now look, I'll take you to the Ambassador's tomorrow night to make up for this. How would you like that?'
'You won't take me so long as there's a telephone in this house.' Janey said bitterly. 'I want some money, Paul!'
He looked at her. 'But, Janey . . .'
'I want some money now: at this minute! If I don't get it I'll have to hock something, and it won't be anything belonging to me!'
Conrad shrugged. He took a ten-dollar bill from his billfold and handed it to her.
'All right, Janey. If that's the way you feel about it. Why don't you give Beth a call? You don't want to go alone.'
Janey folded the bill, looked up at him and then turned away. It was a shock to him to see how impersonal and indifferent her eyes were. She might have been looking at a stranger.
'You don't have to worry about me. Go and worry about your silly little murder. I'll get along fine on my own.'
He started to say something, then stopped. When she was in this mood there was no reasoning with her.
