Nora Carrol sprang to her feet, and said angrily, “You’re insufferable! You make my wanting Ralph back sound cold-blooded and bitchy.”
“Maybe,” said Shayne moodily. “I’m sore at being wakened so enticingly and so futilely. Call me tomorrow and let me know how you make out.”
“Thanks for releasing me,” she replied acidly, “and I hope I never see you again.” She took a couple of steps toward the door, but stopped abruptly as heavy, measured footsteps sounded in the corridor.
A knock sounded on the door, hard and insistent. Running to Shayne, she breathed, “Do you suppose they called Ralph from the desk to say you’d asked about him? If he finds me here with you like this—” Her eyes were frantic, and her gesture indicated Shayne’s pajamas and bare feet.
Shayne was on his feet. “Whoever it is,” he said swiftly, “get into the bedroom and keep out of sight.” He picked up her two glasses as he spoke and shoved them into her hands. Nora sprinted into the bedroom and closed the door.
A louder knock came, accompanied by a gruff voice that ordered, “Open up.”
Shayne glanced over his shoulder to make certain the bedroom door was closed, then opened the front door.
He scowled at the florid-faced, bulky man who stood on the threshold.
“Thought I recognized your voice, Will,” he said casually. “Come in and tell me what the hell keeps you awake at this hour of the morning.”