Chapter one
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.