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Newlywed Judith Paige hires Nameless to find out if her husband is having an affair. Nameless follows Walter Paige to a motel room in Cypress Bay, where Paige is murdered. Nameless must found out who murdered Paige, and investigates. As he investigates, the list of suspects grows.
back of my mind all along, looking for a rational escape, about the paperback mystery novel I had seen in Walter Paige's overnight bag. I put voice to the recollection, and then I said, "Did the police ask you about the book, Mrs. Paige?" "No, they didn't say anything about it. What kind of book is it?" "A mystery novel—a thing called The Dead and the Dying by Russell Dancer." "The dead and the dying," she said. "That's very appropriate, isn't it?" "No," I said. I did not want her feeling
might have left it." "From what was found on the sheets," I said, "the two of them weren't doing any damned reading." "It could have been in her purse, and she could have put the purse on his bag, and it could have fallen out accidentally. That's just one possible explanation." I thought it over. "It could have happened like that, I guess." "I examined the book myself," Quartermain said, "after Lieutenant Favor got through taking print smudges off the covers. It's just a book, pretty well
I've got to go over to see him now, and there's the chance I'll have to stay on here for another day or so. If so, I'll call you and let you know—and I'm sure the Chief will assign someone to drive you to the airport in Monterey, and make arrangements for someone else to meet you in San Francisco and take you home." "All right," she said. "But why should you have to stay another day?" "I'm not certain that I will have to; it just may work out that way." I paused. "If it does, would you mind if
Eight-fifteen. There had been a high, early-morning fog, but it was lifting off now and the sky was a faded indigo to the east. Sunlight, the universal cleanser, washed the street and the houses in pale gold, and the neighborhood looked a little nicer, a little friendlier, and a little more hopeful. The smell of spring was thick and fresh in the air. Across the street a woman with reddish-gold hair that shone like distant fire came out of her house and went into a side garden; she carried a
the car. Quartermain said, "Maybe they're out to dinner, or a movie." "Maybe so. But why didn't they close the front gate then? Or put on the night-lighting?" "That doesn't have to mean much." "Just that they were in a hurry." "People are always in a hurry," he said. "We'll come back later, or in the morning. They'll be home eventually." "Do you know them well, Ned?" "Well enough. I thought I did, anyway." I had nothing to say to that. I fired another cigarette and coughed out the match