way?”
Shayne chortled. “Not that I’ve learned. Some people do it by sitting around and adding up the answers, but I’m not smart that way.” He patted her hand and added in a lighter tone, “Don’t worry about me, Lucy. Lots of jobs nowadays and you can always get another one.”
Lucy swung from the desk. “I hate you,” she said succinctly, “and I hope the girl’s boy friend has a gun next time he comes in unexpectedly.”
Shayne grinned at her stiff straight back as she walked out and slammed the door. He went to the window and stared out for a long moment, then turned abruptly and strode out to Lucy’s desk.
“Call up the Dragoon Hotel and get Drinkley on the phone,” he directed. “When he answers make your voice husky and talk fast. Tell him it’s Lana and to come to your apartment quick. The back way-same as he used last night. Hang up as soon as you’ve told him that.”
“Lana? Who’s she?” Her brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you up to now?”
“I’m going to check on a hunch and have a showdown with Drinkley. Go ahead and make that call.” Shayne put his coat over his arm and picked up his hat.
Lucy was mumbling some words. She wrinkled her nose and rehearsed aloud, looking at Shayne for approval before dialing.
“That’s it-and call him Ted,” Shayne said, standing on widespread legs while he waited.
When she finished the call her hand shook when she replaced the receiver, and her face was pale. “I-did it-”
“Swell job,” Shayne said. “I’ll get you a Hollywood contract. If Gabby Lane comes have him wait here for me.”
“All right… But I still don’t believe-”
Shayne didn’t wait to hear what she didn’t believe. He went down to his car, drove to the Armentieres Apartments and parked near the alley at a point where he could watch the outside stairway leading up to the rear entrance of Lana’s fourth-floor apartment.
He sat hunched behind the wheel dragging on a cigarette while he waited. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe it hadn’t been Drinkley who had socked him last night. His head ached with a steady, dull pain, and he was tired of too much thinking.
He threw the cigarette away when he saw a figure coming furtively down the alley wearing a khaki overcoat and a cap pulled low down over his forehead. The figure went hurriedly up the stairs and stopped at the fourth floor.
Shayne waited until he went in the door, then followed. The door leading from the balcony into the bedroom was open and he stepped inside to hear angry voices in the front room.
“I didn’t telephone you,” Lana was declaring vehemently. “You’re acting crazy, Ted. I covered up for you this morning-”
“That’s right-and in a big way,” Shayne said pleasantly, strolling forward to stand in the doorway.
Lieutenant Drinkley let go of Lana’s wrists and whirled to face him. His thin face was pinched and white and his eyes were hot with fear. He took a wavering step backward and muttered, “Shayne.”
Shayne said, “Don’t blame Lana for this. She even committed a neat bit of perjury this morning to keep you in the clear.” To Lana he said, “Sit down. We’ll all talk this over.”
Lana tossed her head angrily. “Nothing would suit me better.” She pushed a chair close to the couch and sat down.
Shayne sat on the couch and Drinkley brought a light occasional chair and placed it to form a semicircle.
“You’re both in this pretty deep,” Shayne warned them. “It wasn’t smart to bop me last night, Drinkley. What were you afraid I was going to learn?”
Drinkley’s hands trembled and he bit his bloodless bottom lip. “I didn’t-I don’t know-what you mean,” he stammered.
Shayne said mildly, “I don’t mind the beating so much, but I hate being framed for murder. That’s what your perjured denial of my alibi did this morning, Lana.”
Lana gave Drinkley a quick calculating glance, shook her tawny head from side to side and said, “If you mean that crazy story you dreamed up about getting attacked here, you’re nuts.”
Shayne touched his injury lightly. “For a dream, it hurts like hell.” He shrugged and said, “All right. This is off the record. I talked myself out of the murder frame for the time being. Now I want to get some things straight.”
He eyed Drinkley angrily. “How deeply are you involved with Lana?”
“I’m not. It’s all over. I swear it is. It’s been over since I met Katrin. Ask Lana. She’ll tell you.” Drinkley jerked in a breath between each statement and wet his dry lips when he finished.
Lana’s smile was contemptuous. “She’s dead now, Ted. You don’t have to keep on pretending you loved her.”
“But I did. You know I did. I told you I loved Katrin. My God, Lana, if I thought-”
“You do think it,” Shayne said harshly. “That’s what’s eating your guts, isn’t it, Drinkley? You think Lana told Katrin about you two. You’re afraid that’s why Katrin committed suicide.”
Drinkley winced as though a sharp whip struck him, but he said nothing.
“What kind of evidence did Lana have on you? A tape recording or something?” Shayne’s words lashed at the young lieutenant.
“Yes-that damned recording.” Drinkley cowered back. “She got me drunk up here once and I made a recording with her. And she wouldn’t give it back to me.”
“So you destroyed all the recordings last night?”
“I guess so,” he said wearily. “I destroyed all I could find. Katrin was terribly sensitive, Mr. Shayne. If she ever heard that awful recording-knew I’d been drunk-there’s no telling how she’d take it.” He covered his face with his hands.
Lana’s hands were folded in her lap and her tawny eyes were full of contempt for Drinkley. She said quietly to Shayne, “I didn’t believe he’d go through with it. I still don’t believe he would have. He was just infatuated with her.”
“You lied about getting in Thursday morning,” Shayne said to Drinkley. “You spent the night with Lana, didn’t you?”
Drinkley jerked himself from his slumped position and exclaimed, “No! That’s a lie! I was up here, all right- early in the evening. She wrote me that I had to see her before Thursday. I came to beg her to let Katrin and me have our happiness. I begged her to return the recording to me. She refused.”
“So you were here-in New Orleans-while Katrin was dying alone in her locked room,” said Shayne thoughtfully.
“Yes. That’s why it’s so terrible. I believe Lana did it to her, Mr. Shayne. And that makes it my fault. I believe Lana called her after I left here that night…”
“You fool!” Lana burst out. “I told you I wouldn’t lift a finger to keep you if you insisted on going through with it. I think your conscience is hurting you. Didn’t you call Katrin that night? Didn’t you finally realize you couldn’t live without me?”
Drinkley jumped up, his face livid and his fists doubled.
Shayne hastily intercepted him and pushed him back in his chair. “Stop accusing each other,” he growled. “None of this stuff can turn murder into suicide.”
Both of them stared at him fixedly.
“Don’t try to look shocked or surprised,” Shayne snapped. “I said last night Katrin was murdered. That’s when you couldn’t stand any more and hit me,” he told Drinkley. “Were you afraid of what I was going to find out?”
“I-don’t know,” he answered meekly. “I guess I went crazy when I heard you say Katrin-was murdered. Lana had called me from the Laurel Club and said she was going to bring you up here. I didn’t know what she would tell you.”
“And you didn’t want me to find out you had lied about the time you reached New Orleans.” Shayne’s angular jaw was set, his tone grim.
“I didn’t know what to think. I was-scared.”
