'I know that,' said Paulson impatiently, 'but I also know something about the way hotels are run. The bellboys and the maids and the clerk. They always know pretty well what's going on. Whether there're late parties and how many drinks they take up, and who has visitors and how long they stay. That sort of stuff.' He smiled win-ningly at Patton. 'You're the house detective, aren't you? Don't tell me you didn't ask around and check up on my sister's conduct during the past two weeks when this thing happened tonight.'
Patton clasped his hands together in front of his paunch and looked down at them studiously. 'I wouldn't say I didn't. But it still isn't the kind of information we give out.'
Paulson grimaced and got out his wallet. He half withdrew a ten and glanced covertly at Patton, then sighed and made it a twenty instead. He folded the bill lengthwise four times and said, 'I wouldn't expect you to give it out to anyone except her brother. But I certainly have a perfect right to know. I tell you I've been worried about the way she's been acting-and now with this thing tonight-and her not being here to meet me as she promised-'
Patton unclasped his hands from in front of his paunch, and the bill was whisked out of sight. He said, 'Sure. Being her brother and all, I guess it wouldn't be right not to tell you.
'Well, your sister has been mighty pleasant. and quiet in the hotel, and minds her own business. I did go over the room service charges on her bill tonight, and most nights she's had ice and sometimes soda up. A bottle of whisky twice in two weeks.' He spread out his hand. 'No, I'm not denying the bellboys and maids, like you say, notice things that go on. They can't help it, having eyes and being human. But the way I get it, your sister has entertained men frequently, but never too late. And never no commotion or trouble at all. Just the sort of thing any nice, attractive girl in a hotel in Miami on her own might be expected to do.'
He nodded benignly at Paulson. 'Mostly one particular fellow, the way I get it. With maybe a couple others off and on. But she minds her own business, and so do they. She paid up her first week's bill promptly and we haven't any complaints at all. That the sort of stuff you wanted to know?'
Paulson wet his lips and nodded. 'Exactly. Thanks, Mr. Patton.' He arose. 'And now is it all right for me to go up to her room to wait?'
Patton arose with him. 'Sure. I'll go up and let you in myself. Give me a chance to check around a little more to be plumb certain she hasn't got any bodies concealed. That's strictly against the rules, you know.' He winked jovially at his own joke. 'And then I reckon I might just as well wait there with you until she does come in. Ask her a couple of questions there in private, just to get everything real clear.'
Paulson said, 'That'll be fine. Glad to have company while I wait for Nellie.'
They went out and strolled toward the elevator together, and Paulson stopped abruptly in mid-stride. 'It's getting so late maybe I'd better get my baggage and check into a room of my own. Take me half an hour perhaps. I had a little accident outside of town and had to leave my car at a garage. If Nellie comes in before I get back, tell her to stay put, will you?'
'Sure.'
Oliver Patton fidgeted painfully on his bunion-infested feet and watched Paulson's tall figure striding across the lobby with a speculative frown. Maybe it wasn't anything, but the young fellow had appeared to lose interest abruptly in waiting in his sister's room when Patton suggested that he would go up and wait with him. And it was funny the way he suddenly remembered that he hadn't got his baggage with him and decided to go fetch it. Why hadn't he thought about that when he left his car? He must have known he'd be spending the night at some hotel in town and would be needing it.
Starting to turn back to his office, Patton saw Bill signal to him from where he stood beside the open elevator. He plodded across to him and Bill said eagerly:
'Joe, here, swears he's seen that guy in here before. Some time this evening, he thinks, but he's not sure.'
'That's right, Chief.' Joe scratched his head dubiously. 'I know I've seen him. In the elevator, I reckon. Seems like I noticed him special because I thought he was trying to hold the scarred side of his face away from me. Like maybe he didn't want to be recognized.'
'This evening?' demanded Patton tautly.
'I just don't disremember for sure,' groaned Joe. 'You know how it is, Mr. Oliver. Up and down. Down and up. You don't really notice. But that man with the scar on his face-he's been in this here elevator last day or so, and that's a fact.'
Patton said, 'Let me know if he shows up again.' He went to the desk and gave the same instructions to Dick. 'And have Ewie give me an open wire if he calls, or if anybody calls for Miss Paulson.'
Then, remindful of Mike Shayne's previous interest in the girl, he lumbered back to his office to telephone the red-headed detective. Unfortunately, Shayne's telephone was not answered.
TEN: 10:34 PM
Before starting out to look for answers, Michael Shayne telephoned Lucy.
Her voice was acidly sweet as she replied in mock surprise, 'Not finished with the blonde so soon, Michael?'
'All finished,' he told her cheerfully, 'so I decided to sick her onto you. She's not there yet?'
There was a tiny pause, during which he knew Lucy was trying to decide whether he was kidding or serious. Then she said, 'Not yet.'
'She should be showing shortly. Be nice to her, angeL She's really in a state.'
'Because you got rid of her so fast?'
Shayne growled, 'This is serious, Lucy. Her name is Nellie Paulson-at least, I guess maybe it is. I don't know whether she's actually nuts or not, but she's on the fringe. Scared out of her wits. There's a guy out on the town hunting her with a gun who claims he's her brother and wants to take care of her. But she claims this guy murdered her brother and is after her now.'
Lucy said pleasantly, 'What interesting people you do meet, Mr. Shayne. Just what am I supposed to do with this damsel who doesn't know whether her brother is a murderer or murderee?'
'Just keep her quiet there and take care of her,' growled Shayne. 'Put her to bed if you can. And don't let anyone get to her. Call me as soon as she gets there,' he added hastily. 'I'll be at police headquarters. In Gentry's office, if he's still there; if not, check with Sergeant Jenkins.'
Luqr said, 'Yes, Michael,' in a subdued tone. Then, 'And-Michael?'
'Yes?'
'Your glass of brandy is still sitting here and it's-still an hour and twenty-five minutes until midnight.'
'Save it,' he said blithely. 'Our date is still on.'
He hung up and got his hat, went down to drive directly to Miami police headquarters.
Will Gentry was still in his private office. He was closeted there with Timothy Rourke, reporter on the News and one of Shayne's oldest friends in the city.
Will Gentry was a big, square man, with a florid, open countenance. He sat behind a wide, bare desk, chewing vigorously on the short butt of a black cigar; while Rourke was tilted back in a straight chair against the wall, just finishing what he considered an extremely funny story, as Shayne walked in.
'— And so the gink said, 'What cow are you talking about?' ' concluded Rourke, and began laughing uproariously.
Chief Gentry said, 'Ha-ha,' while looking at Shayne. 'Anything up, Mike?'
'He is, damn it,' said Rourke. 'Just in time to spoil the point of my story. Thought you had a date with Lucy tonight?'
'1 did. A blonde came between us.' Shayne grinned at him and pulled a chair close to Gentry's desk. 'Had any unexplained corpses tonight, Will?'
'No corpses of any sort. You?'
'I'll be damned if I know,' said Shayne, feelingly. 'Had any sort of report of trouble at the Hibiscus Hotel?'
'I don't think so.' Gentry looked at the reporter. 'You had anything, Tim?'
'Not a thing all evening to make the Night Edition.' Rourke tilted his chair forward so all four legs were on
