heard the siren stop. He jabbed savagely at the button. The door opened and he pushed in, shoving the black-haired girl aside and slamming the door shut.
She had changed from the housecoat to a sports dress of powder blue that accentuated her curves and softened her whole expression. She said, “You certainly changed your mind in a hurry, Redhead.”
Shayne drew in a deep breath and said rapidly, “Madge is in there-dead. I think the police are coming. If you don’t want to get mixed up in this, let me out the back door in a hurry and forget I was here.”
A car raced up outside and they heard it screech to a stop. The girl’s pupils dilated until they almost covered the iris. She wrung her hands and moaned, “Madge? Dead? How did it happen?”
“Murder.” Shayne put an arm around her roughly and hurried her back toward the bedroom.
“Murder? You said the police were coming. Are you a cop?”
“Do I look like a cop? Why would I be running if I were?” He heard footsteps come up on the front porch. He pulled her inside the bedroom and shut the door. “What’s your name?”
“Helen. But I don’t-”
“I’m in a little jam,” Shayne said in a low, savage voice. “You don’t look like a stool. Madge has been dead a couple of days and God knows I didn’t do it, but you know how cops are. I’ll go out the back and you forget I’ve been here. I’ll circle down the alley to my car in the next block and drive up in front. I’ll ring your doorbell-”
He stopped abruptly and listened to the faint ringing of Madge’s doorbell in the other half of the duplex.
“And when you come to the door, call me Mike like you expected me. What’s your phone number?”
“Causeway 1286.” The bell in Helen’s living-room rang shrilly and insistently.
“Go out and answer it. You didn’t answer your phone when I tried to call you twenty minutes ago because you were in the bath.” Shayne gave her a shove. “Go on out and pull it off if you were really a friend of Madge’s.”
Shayne whirled away from her toward the back bedroom door. It was unlocked, and he quietly opened and closed it. He tiptoed down a flagstone walk identical with the one on the other side, ran across the grass to the alley and to his car.
Chapter Nine: JOHNNY ON THE SPOT
After circling around for several minutes, Shayne went back to Tempest Street and parked behind a Miami Beach prowl car in front of the duplex. The front door of 614 stood open and both units were brightly lighted. He got out and strode purposefully to the door of 616 and pressed the button.
The door opened almost instantly and Shayne said, “Helen!” in a loud, pleased tone. He was conscious of a man stepping out of 614 to look at him, but he kept his back turned, went inside and put his arms around Helen, held her close, and said, “Glad to see me, honey? After all this time?”
“Sure, Mike.” Her frightened eyes searched his as he bent to kiss her. There were footsteps on the porch behind them.
A gruff voice demanded, “Who’s that guy, Miss?”
Shayne turned with his arm around her to look at a burly policeman blocking the doorway. He scowled and asked Helen, “What are the cops doing here?”
“I–I don’t know,” she stammered, trying to follow his lead. “It’s something about the girl who lives next door.”
“What’re you horning in here for?” Shayne asked angrily.
“Wanta use your phone,” the policeman said, starting forward.
“What’s the matter with the phone in there?”
“Never mind about that.” He pushed on into the room.
Shayne winked and smiled reassuringly as the man went past them to the telephone. He said, “I tried to call you about twenty minutes ago, kid. You didn’t answer. Been two-timing me?” He made his voice harsh and edged with suspicion. The cop had lifted the phone, and sitting with his back to them dialed a number, but he had his head cocked in a listening attitude.
“No, Mike. There hasn’t been anyone else here. I must have been in the tub with the water running.”
The cop said, “Give me the chief.”
Shayne said, “I’d lost your street address so I had to get Information to look it up from your telephone number when you didn’t answer.”
“I got my phone too late to be listed in the last directory,” Helen said. “Shame on you-losing my letter. Suppose somebody should find it.” She laughed softly.
The cop said, “Hudson reporting, Chief. On that call to Six-Fourteen Tempest. Front door was unlocked. There’s a dame in there, Chief. Stiff.”
He listened for a moment and then said, “Martin and I didn’t see anybody when we pulled up. Dame next door has got a visitor just came in.” After a short pause, he said, “You bet,” and hung up.
Shayne turned to the officer and said, “Did you say there’s a-body next door?” with great interest.
“That’s what I said.”
Helen reacted swiftly and satisfactorily with a moan of astonishment and fright. “Is it Madge Rankin?”
“She didn’t tell me her name.” Hudson moistened his thick lips and leered at her. “What’s your friend Madge look like?”
“Why-Madge is blond and sort of tall and slim-and awfully pretty.”
“She ain’t so pretty now, lady,” he growled. “But she’s still got blond hair.”
She blinked her eyes and a mist formed over them. She sank down on the couch and wailed, “It must be Madge. She must have been there all the time-and I thought she was out having a good t-time.”
Shayne hurried to her and sat down beside her, drawing her dark head down on his shoulder. “Now, don’t go blaming yourself, honey. You couldn’t have even suspected.”
“The chief’ll wanta talk to you both,” Hudson said importantly. “See that you stick around.” He stalked out and slammed the door shut.
Helen looked up at Shayne tearfully. “What’s it all about? P-Poor Madge.” She sat up straight and stared into space.
Shayne said, “I don’t know anything yet. How long have you lived in Miami?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Almost five years,” she said. Her hand came up and she brushed his coat where her face had rested against it. “This darned pancake make-up-it rubbed off on your coat. I’m sorry.”
Shayne cocked his eye down and said, “You must lay it on pretty heavy. Just leave it there. It’s good evidence that you and I are-old friends.” He grinned crookedly.
“You know how it is,” she told him. “Everybody down here in Miami tries to look too-too sun-tanned.”
“Now let’s get this thing straight,” said Shayne. “I knew you three years ago. Did you live here then?”
“Of course not. I lived-”
“It doesn’t matter.” Police sirens were shrilling up Ocean Boulevard. Shayne knew he didn’t have much time. “Now listen carefully,” he said. “My name’s Mike Shayne and I’m a private detective. I got a tip there was trouble at Six-Fourteen but I can’t afford to show in it. I traced the address through the phone number, but I’m going to say it was your number and your address. I’ve been in New Orleans for two years and you wrote me there when you moved in here.”
Sirens were whining down to silence outside. Shayne pulled off his hat and tossed it on a table. “You’re in it now, too,” he warned. “If you change your story one bit they’ll be suspicious as hell.”
Heavy feet were pounding up on the porch outside. “They’ll be in here pretty quick. You mentioned a drink-or did you?”
She laughed softly and said, “I didn’t-but I can take a hint.” She stood up. Suddenly she turned to look at him. Her light-brown eyes were narrowed and cold, and she said evenly, “I think you’re okay, Redhead. I hope so. Madge was a good kid and I’m not helping you if-”
Shayne made an impatient gesture. “I just got in from New Orleans a few hours ago. I can prove it. Madge has been dead a couple of days. How about that drink?”
Helen smiled and her eyes opened wide. She said, “Sure, Mike,” and she moved toward the kitchen, swaying
