“True enough,” Pearson agreed. “That’s the final expedient I’m prepared to take if all else fails. But that would allow the foreign agent who engineered the coup to remain free to continue his subversive work. I had hoped Lacy or Morgan would lead us to him. We didn’t know until yesterday that Miami was the city to which the plans had been shipped. Now, however, with all three pieces of the claim check missing and probably in the hands of the spy ring, I imagine an immediate search of the local baggage rooms is our best bet.” He hesitated, looking at Gentry. “If you’re willing to co-operate-use your local authority-”
“I don’t see any reason to do that yet,” Shayne interposed. “As you say, Pearson, you’d throw away months of labor-your chance to round up the spies. In a case like this it’s important to get the head man. Maybe you’re jumping to a hasty conclusion when you decide that someone has got both Lacy’s and Morgan’s pieces of the baggage receipt. Lacy’s perhaps, but you went over Morgan with a fine-tooth comb. It wasn’t on him. That’s logical enough. He wouldn’t be likely to carry anything that valuable and dangerous around with him. He’d have it stashed. If you can find where Morgan was holed-up-” He paused, his eyes looking from Gentry to Pearson.
Pearson’s face brightened. “That’s good, logical reasoning, Shayne. If we can’t get hold of one piece, we needn’t give up hope.”
“That’s something I’ll get my department to work on,” Gentry said. He finished his drink and got up. “Maybe you can help me, Pearson, knowing what you do about Morgan.”
“Gladly.” Pearson swung to his feet lightly. He looked at Shayne and Tim Rourke. “I have to trust you gentlemen to keep this entire matter absolutely confidential.”
Shayne nodded, and Rourke said, “Not a peep until you give the word.”
On his way to the door with Pearson, Gentry asked, “Coming, Tim?”
“I’m sticking around.” Rourke stretched out his skinny legs and grinned. “There’s more liquor in that bottle than Mike should drink by himself.”
There was a long period of silence in the apartment after the door had closed behind Gentry and Pearson.
Then Shayne yawned and ruffled his coarse red hair with knobby fingers. He said, “I’ve had a tough day, Tim. Two corpses in the space of a few hours is more than I’m accustomed to. Believe I’ll turn in.” He stood up, yawning again.
Rourke did not look at him. He said, “Why don’t you tell Phyllis to come on out, now that they’ve gone.”
Shayne swung around. “What prompted that crack?”
Rourke shook his head. “It won’t wash, Mike. Why did you tell them you didn’t know where Phyllis was?”
“I don’t.”
“Yet you’re going to bed-just like that-and you don’t know where your wife is. You were in love with the gal last week.” Rourke popped his fingers loudly.
“All right,” Shayne snapped. “I’ll admit I am worried about her. I thought maybe you’d beat it and let me go on about my business if I said I was going to bed.”
Rourke shook his head sadly. His eyes were anxious. He said, “Maybe I shouldn’t butt in-but I’m afraid you’re going over your depth, Mike. Damn it, this is different from the other cases you’ve horsed around with. We’re at war. Vital plans for our defense are at stake. According to Pearson, those stolen plans mean a hell of a lot to this country.”
Shayne stood very still. “What’s on your mind?”
Rourke sighed. “I know Phyllis is here. Where is she? Under the bed? In the closet? You’ve got her hid out and I admit I don’t like it. Why, Mike? In the name of God, why were you afraid to have Pearson question her about Lacy?”
“That’s what you think?”
“What else can I think? You lied about her not being here.”
“What makes you think so?” Shayne’s voice remained dangerously even and low.
“Hell, I may not be a G-man but I’ve got eyes.” Rourke pointed to the open door leading into the bedroom. “I’ve been in and out of this apartment a lot since you and Phyllis were married. She’s one of the neatest housekeepers I’ve ever known. She’d never go out and leave the bed mussed and unmade. And I’ve never seen her clothes thrown over the back of a chair before, as many times as I’ve been around.”
“Maybe she went off in a hurry.” Shayne was wearily vicious.
“Yeh-she might. But I don’t believe she did.”
Shayne said, “That’s not much evidence to call a man a liar on.”
“All right.” Rourke made a gesture of disgust. He stood up and faced Shayne. “Here’s something else. Morgan was killed with a toy pistol. A twenty-two. That’s not your kind of a gun. It’s the kind a girl carries in her handbag.”
“Have you seen Phyl carrying one like it?”
“No. But if there was one like that around the place she’d be the one to use it-or some other dame.”
“You’re talking a lot without saying very much,” Shayne told his old friend.
“All right, think of an answer for this. Morgan had two bullets in his brain, Mike. I’ve been around with you plenty. You’re going to have to talk fast to make me believe you wasted bullet number two when number one killed the guy instantly.”
“So?”
“So it reads that you didn’t have hold of the gun at all. You’re covering up for Phyllis. There wasn’t time for her to get out of the apartment before Gentry arrived, so you told her to hide while you took the rap. Hell, Mike!” Rourke raved wildly, “I don’t blame you. The guy probably busted in while Phyl was in bed. She had to shoot him. I don’t doubt that at all. And you’d naturally want to keep her out of the picture. That’s all right, too. But you know me. If that’s the way it was, why not say so? I can pull the zipper on my mouth any old time.”
Shayne hesitated. He said, “You’re going to wish you had gone on and not played detective, Tim.”
Rourke shook his head stubbornly. “The only thing I don’t like is the way you lied to keep Pearson from questioning Phyl. I’d hate to go on thinking there was anything phony about that.”
Shayne’s face was bleak. He said, “I’m getting tired of being called a liar.”
He turned and strode to the closet inside the bedroom. He jerked it open and said, “You might as well come on out now, Helen,” and stepped aside to let Rourke see her emerge from her hiding-place, wearing Phyllis’s blue silk nightgown.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Timothy Rourke’s eyes bulged when he saw the girl. He took a quick backward step and opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.
Helen was evidently unaware of Shayne’s visitor. She flung herself against the detective, sobbing, “Oh, I’ve been so frightened. Is-is everything all right? Did they believe you about-about Mace?”
Shayne thrust her back against the closet door. “Put on a robe-or something,” he commanded.
“But, sweet,” she pleaded in a whimpering voice. “Why, you’re angry with me. You know I’m all yours-”
Shayne slapped her on the mouth. She cringed away from him, sobbing.
He said, “Come in the living-room when you put on a robe,” and strode away from her, slamming the bedroom door shut.
Rourke stood in the center of the room with his back to Shayne. He was pouring himself a drink. He didn’t turn his head when Shayne walked up behind him and said, “All right. Are you satisfied now?”
Rourke kept on pouring liquor in his glass. The glass ran over, but he kept on pouring.
Shayne grabbed the bottle. “Why don’t you say something?”
Rourke turned troubled eyes to his friend’s face. He shook his head with the tight-lipped explanation, “You wouldn’t want to hear anything I’ve got to say.”
“Go on, say it.” Shayne was breathing hard. “I’m a heel. A lecherous louse with naked women concealed all over the premises.”
Rourke lifted the brimming glass and held it to his lips until it was empty. He muttered, “There’s no use going into things. I’d better be going. I should have gone with Gentry and Pearson.” He took a step toward the door.
