The woman screamed as he touched her... “Good God, you’re not Ralph.” Of course, he wasn’t Ralph. He was private eye Mike Shayne, trying to catch a little sleep in his own apartment-until a gorgeous doll slipped through the door, made herself delightfully at home, and then crawled into bed with him. Who was she? How had she known the layout of Shayne’s apartment in the dark? How had she gotten a key? And who, of all people, was Ralph? Shayne got the answer to the last question in a hurry. Ralph was the woman’s husband. He was in the apartment directly overhead — and he was dead... It was murder, and sleepy or not, Shayne was in up to his neck