get hurt if you do exactly as I say. Not until I can fix things up a little better anyhow. Then we'll see. Sit in that chair across the room and don't move out of it while I use the phone.'
Lucy stood up slowly, averting her gaze from the knife. She crossed to the indicated chair and sat down. She heard the girl dialing, and tried to concentrate on the clicking of the dial to try and get the number-although Shayne had often laughed at fictional detectives who were supposed to be able to accomplish that trick.
She heard the girl ask, 'Is Mr. Bert Paulson there?' and say after a moment, 'If he does come in soon, please give him this message. It's very important. He's to call his sister at this number.' And she read Lucy's number from the telephone.
Then she hung up and sat quietly for a moment, biting her under-lip broodingly and frowning across the room with eyes that seemed not quite to focus.
She nodded her blonde head slowly after thinking for a moment, dialed another number and repeated exactly the same instructions she had given on the first call.
After hanging up the second time, she got up from the chair and moved back a few feet, gesturing to Lucy with her knife. 'Sit down here by the phone and do exactly as I tell you if you ever want to see your precious Michael Shayne again. Wait a minute though,' she said rapidly as Lucy dragged herself up. 'Go into the bedroom first and get a sheet and bring it out. I'll be right behind you all the time.'
Lucy went into the bedroom and got a sheet from her linen closet. Her mind was working desperately to think of some ruse to escape or overcome her visitor, but even years of close association with Michael Shayne had not fitted her to cope with exactly this situation. She was bitterly certain he could think of all sorts of clever things to do under the same circumstances, but why, oh I why, had he sent this insane girl to take refuge in her apartment with a bloody knife in her handbag?
'Drop the sheet on the floor,' she was directed, 'and then sit in that chair beside the telephone. If any calls come, you'll have to answer them in case it isn't Lanny calling for me. And everything will be a lot easier if I just tie you up so you won't get any funny ideas. Don't think I care whether you keep on living or not,' the voice went on coldly as the girl picked up the sheet and slit strips in it which she ripped all the way across.
'It's just that you're my insurance, see? I've got to get that call from Lanny, and I figure this is just about the safest place to stay until it comes.' She giggled happily again as she came up behind Lucy with three long strips of sheeting trailing behind her.
'Who'd think of looking for me holed up cozily with the great detective's girl-friend? Put your feet back solid against the legs of the chair. And lay your right forearm on the arm of it. I'll leave your left hand free to manage the phone.'
Lucy sat tense and strained in the chair, biting her under-lip hard as the other knelt beside her and started winding a strip of cloth around each ankle and the chair-legs.
Now? Was this the moment? If she twisted quickly and tried to throw herself and the chair on top of the girl?
No. Her instinct for self-preservatioji was too strong. Something would happen. Something would have to hap pen. Michael would certainly come. He had sounded so terribly outraged and angry when she told him the girl had already left. Certainly he would be arriving in a few minutes to question her more closely.
It had all happened so fast. She'd had no chance to adjust her thoughts and think of something to say over the telephone that would indicate to him that she was talking under duress. But she had tried desperately to be flip about it and not even apologize for letting the girl go. That should be a clue he would understand.
But suppose he didn't? Suppose he thought she was just being jealous and irritated because he had gone off at the summons of an unknown blonde instead of staying with her? She hadn't tried to conceal her feelings earlier when he had dashed off, leaving his drink untouched behind him.
Now her legs and right arm were bound tightly to the chair and she was helpless. It was too late now to make any attempt. If Michael would only come or telephone againl She began thinking desperately of something she might say to him if he did call that would not arouse the girl's suspicions but would tell him what she wanted to convey.
Her captor stepped back coolly to survey her work, and she nodded with a smile that held more venom than humor. She walked across to the sofa to drop the knife into her open bag and sat down, saying, 'Now we're real comfy. Just so you don't try to say the wrong thing over the phone if it rings. If it's someone asking for Nellie or Miss Paulson, just say I'm here and I'll take it from there. But if it's anyone else, you be damn careful to stall them off. No matter what you scream over the phone or how fast they can get here-it'll be too late to do you any good.' She leaned forward to pick up her drink, and smacked her lips with relish as she sipped it.
'I just don't understand,' faltered Lucy. 'Why did Michael send you here? Why did you come when- when-?'
'When the police are looking for me for murder?' The question came equably and with frightening calm. 'You are perfectly right, darling. That is blood you saw on my little knife.' The words came out purringly with hidden, deadly menace. It rose suddenly on a note of shrill derision:
'Because he's a fool. Like any man I ever met, he falls all over himself for a smile and a sad story any girl wants to dish out. And by God, how I love to make suckers out of them. I'll tell you all about it because, you know, you're never going to repeat a word of it to anyone. I promise you that. Just something for you to think about, dearie, while I'm waiting for that phone call.'
Lucy sat straining stififly against her bonds. Get her talking! That was it. Keep her boasting and talking about what she had done. She might finally get hysterical and blow her top completely.
'I want to get it absolutely straight about the telephone call you're expecting,' she said as placatingly as she could. 'So I won't make any bobbles that'll get you mad at me. Is it someone named Lanny whom you expect to call?'
'That's what I said, isn't it?'
'But when you made your calls I heard you ask for someone named Bert Paulson. And leave word for him to call his sister here. But if it's really someone named Lanny you want, will he ask for his sister if he calls?'
'Never mind about whose sister I am or anything.' The girl on the sofa turned sullen. 'Johnny, what I said about answering the phone. If it's Lanny and if he asks for his sister or Nellie, or- Well, if he just says it's Lanny, you give it to me quick.'
She fumbled in her bag, took out the knife and studied it fondly. Then, unexpectedly, she giggled. 'Oh shucks, why don't I tell you who I really am, and Lanny and all? Just show you how dumb your silly Michael Shayne really is. Take this note he wrote to you to begin with-'
SIXTEEN: 11:20 PM
'By God!' said Will Gentry violently as Shayne reported what Lucy had said on the phone. 'By God, Mike. So that's the way you protect your client. Turn her loose to go out on the town and keep a tryst with a killer gunning for her with a forty-five?'
'How was I to know she wouldn't stay put once she was safe with Lucy? As for keeping any trysts with a forty-five- I'm damn sure that isn't why she went out. If you'd seen how frightened she was of meeting him at my place-'
'Playing God again.' Chief Gentry's fist thudded down angrily on his desk. 'If you'd come clean with me in the beginning, she'd be safe right now. You know that, don't you?'
'Sure, but-'
'But, hell!' raged the police chief. 'You never change, do you, Mike? You've got some kind of goddamned God-complex that makes you pull things like this. High-and-mighty Michael Shayne sitting back and pulling the strings. Manipulating people like puppets to make 'em jump the way he thinks they ought to jump. If for once in your life you'd come down to earth and co-operate with the police, things would be one hell of a lot better for everybody concerned.'
'All right,' said Shayne grimly. 'So hind-sight says you're right. But things are no worse ofiE right now than you thought they were ten minutes ago before I told you I had her stashed at Lucy's. You've got a pick-up on both of them. Chances are you'll have them both before he can get to her.'
