Death Has Three Lives

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Lucy Hamilton glanced quickly at the electric clock in her living-room when the buzzer sounded downstairs. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and Lucy frowned with pleased perplexity as she crossed the pleasant room to press the release catch on the front door of the apartment building.

Michael Shayne hadn’t actually said he would drop by this evening, though he had asked her casually if she had any cognac in the larder when they left his downtown office together at five o’clock.

She hadn’t really expected him, and certainly not so early as this. But she looked just right to receive an informal visitor, she assured herself with a sweeping downward glance as she turned the knob of her second-floor door and heard footsteps mounting the stairs. Michael hadn’t seen this hostess gown before. It was a shimmery blue, with a tight bodice and short puffed sleeves, a flaring skirt that fell in folds from her nice hips to just touch the tips of her blue satin mules.

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