had been questioned at the betting windows regarding her age, in keeping with the state law against selling tickets to minors. She was clinging to Gil Matrix’s arm, her head level in height with his, though Shayne suspected she stood on tiptoe as she peered anxiously in all directions. When she saw him towering above the throng, she dragged the editor toward him. She laughed triumphantly up into his face and showed him a sheaf of bills in her purse, cajoling:
“Don’t take me away now, Michael. I’m having a wonderful time. I’m winning! Honestly!”
Shayne looked steadily at her, his eyes roving from the top of her little hat to the tips of her white sports shoes. His gaunt face softened and a smile quirked his wide mouth. He said, with excessive gravity, to Matrix, “We’d better turn her over to the police for investigation. The only way she could possibly win would be to get hold of a batch of counterfeit tickets.”
“Don’t you believe it, Mr. Matrix.” Her dark eyes danced merrily. “I met the most fascinating tipster-just a kid, and he looked like a jockey. He gave me a winner in every race, and he gets his dope right from the dogs.”
“So-o-o.” Shayne grinned. “He reads their mail, eh? Knows what their instructions are.” He circled the fur jacket sleeve with one of his big hands and led her toward an exit. “For once in your life you’re going to quit a winner.”
“But, Michael,” she wailed, then stole a look at his face. His features had hardened into set lines again. She made no other protest but went submissively with him.
“You look as though you’re on a hot scent,” Matrix suggested, stretching out his short legs to keep up with Shayne’s long strides.
Shayne grunted, “It’s getting warm,” and jerked open the door of his roadster. He helped Phyllis in, then went around and got under the wheel. Matrix got in on the other side beside Phyllis.
“I’ve got to see a lot of people in a hurry,” Shayne announced as he surged the roadster forward onto the highway.
“You should have to,” Matrix said shortly, “if you haven’t picked up any suspect besides me.”
“I was coming back to you.” Shayne’s voice crackled. “I want the lowdown on Edwards’s invention. The long- range camera that automatically shoots the interior of hotel rooms across the street. Is it a phony or on the level?”
“You’ve been listening to Mr. Hardeman,” Matrix shot back.
“By God, it was a relief to visit somebody who didn’t hedge. I want to know why Edwards refused to patent his invention.”
“What difference does it make now? After he’s dead?”
“It makes a hell of a lot of difference. He left a wife and kid, didn’t he? And it’s the key to four killings.”
“I don’t see how it can be. Just because Ben was a little cracked-shy of publicity-”
Shayne swore fervently, interrupting him. “I’ve been out to the Edwards house. I met Mrs. Edwards. She’s not cracked. They don’t live too well on the salary you paid Ben. There has to be a potent reason behind Ben’s refusal to commercialize his patent.”
They were approaching the spot where Ben Edwards’s body had lain. The road for blocks around was deserted except for one Ford which stood empty by the side of the road.
Matrix pulled himself up from the cushion and caught the doorlatch. “Let me out here,” he said hastily. “That’s my car.”
Shayne jammed on the brakes and the roadster slithered to a stop. “All right,” he said with deadly emphasis, “you know and you’re not telling. But the tide’s rolling in, Matrix. You can’t stop it. The undertow is going to suck somebody under and I don’t give a damn who it is.”
He waited until Matrix got out and slammed the door with unnecessary force and turned swiftly away toward his car, then Shayne gunned the roadster forward.
Phyllis started to speak but he silenced her. “Watch Matrix’s Ford in that rear-view mirror. I’m going to slow up. Tell me as soon as his lights come on and he turns around.”
She reached up quickly and turned the tiny mirror lower, watched tensely for a moment, then said, “His lights are on. Now, he’s backing around to head in this direction. He-he’s coming awfully fast.”
Shayne switched off the lights before she finished speaking. Light from the quarter moon sinking low in the west showed a side road shaded with a thick growth of Australian pines. He drove past it, then backed in to the thickest shadow, cut off his motor, and waited, signaling for complete silence to Phyllis.
The Ford whizzed by. Shayne waited a moment, then turned on his lights and drove out onto the highway. The taillight of the Ford showed faintly red a quarter of a mile closer to town.
Shayne put on enough speed to draw up within two blocks of the editor’s car and maintained that distance through the business section of Cocopalm.
Matrix swerved to the right on a residential street. Shayne followed, recognizing it as the street on which the Ben Edwards home was located.
The corner cottage was brilliantly lighted and there were three cars parked outside. Matrix sped by without slowing, drove on to a narrow paved road which paralleled the ocean shore, where he swung sharply to the left again.
Shayne slowed between rows of small beach cottages lining both sides of the road, with the surf rolling within a few feet of the foundations of the row to the east. He allowed Matrix to gain two more blocks while a deep frown of perplexity creased his forehead. The cottages became more straggling, and the pounding of surf on the shore was a low continuous rumble.
“Now, where would he be going?” Phyllis asked anxiously.
“I don’t know, but it’s important, angel.”
The Ford slowed, then stopped in front of a beach cottage where a porch light was burning. The light went off when the car stopped.
Shayne cut off his motor and his lights. He relaxed behind the wheel and crushed out his cigarette.
“So what?” Phyllis demanded in a taut voice. “Have you forgotten what to do when you park with me on the beach on a moonlight night?”
Shayne put his right arm around her and she relaxed with a brief sigh. While he continued to watch the cottage and the Ford, he muttered, “I don’t understand any of this any more than you do, angel.”
She shivered inside the circle of his arm. “Do you think Mr. Matrix is guilty?”
“Your guess is as good as mine right now,” he told her. “I’ll know more about that when I find out who lives in that cottage. I’ll give him a little more time-”
He swore softly when the lights of the editor’s Ford blinked on suddenly. Without turning on his own lights he stepped on the starter and pulled forward slowly. When the Ford’s taillight whisked around the first corner, back toward Cocopalm, Shayne stepped on the accelerator, then came to an abrupt stop in front of the cottage before which the Ford had been parked.
Phyllis put her hand on Shayne’s arm. “There’s a woman in that cottage,” she whispered. “I just saw her go past the window.”
“I suppose that means I’ll have to be chaperoned if I go in,” he said lightly. He opened the door and got out. Phyllis sat back against the seat pouting prettily.
“I mean it,” he urged. “I may need chaperoning if it’s who I think it is.”
Phyllis scrambled out and joined him on the shell walk leading up to the front door. “I’m so used to being left behind I didn’t suppose you’d want me along. I thought you were kidding me.” She gripped his arm with suppressed excitement as they stepped onto the porch. Shayne knocked when he couldn’t find an electric button to push.
Swift footsteps sounded inside. The door opened a crack and Shayne pushed it on open against Midge Taylor’s slight weight.
She exclaimed, “Oh! It’s you,” and stepped back, her wide blue eyes burning into his.
Shayne’s arm, to which Phyllis held tightly, pulled her forward. “I brought along my wife as a referee if you attack me again.” He laughed down into Phyllis’s surprised face. “This is Miss Taylor, Mrs. Shayne. Miss Taylor is responsible for these scratches on my cheek. She’ll tell you all about it.”
Midge stepped backward along the wall, groping with one hand like a drunkard searching for something to hold to. Her honey-colored hair was again coiled smoothly around her head in big braids. She was deathly pale. She had changed from the torn white silk dress to a clean wash frock with white ruffles on the sleeves and it made her look smaller and younger. The simple dress rid her of every hint of sophisticated poise and gave her an ingenuously
