and forth rhythmically against Shayne’s shoulder. “He was pretty,” she said with sudden enthusiasm, as though she had just remembered.
“Did you like him?”
“Sure I did. Who wouldn’t? But he wouldn’t hardly look at me. Not with Matie chasing after him the way she did.”
“Albert’s wife?”
“Uh-huh. It was right after he went away that she went off to Reno to get her divorce.”
Shayne considered this bit of information for a moment. “Was Albert jealous of them?”
“Him?” Her voice became venomously scornful. “If he was he certainly never dared show it in front of Matie. She had him right under her thumb, I can tell you. Now why don’t we just go to bed for a little while?” she ended plaintively.
Shayne sighed and stood up. He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Not here in your house, Beatrice. As much as I’d like to,” he lied. “Give me a raincheck, huh?”
“You’re mean,” she pouted as he released her and turned away to the balcony.
He said grimly over his shoulder, “It’s just that I never did like to foul another man’s bed.” He stepped out into the hot sunlight and hurried down the iron stairs to get into his car and leave the decaying old mansion behind him.
6
The office of Hastings amp; Brandt, Attorneys-at-Law, was on the fourth floor of a shabby office building on Flagler Street. The dingy front office was presided over by a gnomelike little man wearing a shiny alpaca coat. He was humped over a ponderous legal volume and looked up with near-sighted irritation when Michael Shayne entered. “Yes, yes? What is it?”
“I’m Shayne. Mr. Hastings asked me to come in.”
“Shayne?” The clerk pursed his lips disapprovingly over the name. He consulted a memo pad and said reluctantly, “I guess it’s all right.” He pointed to a door that was lettered Private.
Shayne opened the door without knocking. Hastings was seated behind an ancient rolltop desk with papers spread out in front of him. He still wore the black broadcloth jacket buttoned all the way up though the heat in the office was stifling. He removed a pair of rimless glasses from his bony nose and said dryly, “You are very prompt, Mr. Shayne.”
Shayne sat down in a straight wooden chair that creaked under his weight. He said, “The way I understand this case, there isn’t any time to lose.”
“What case do you refer to, Mr. Shayne?”
“The Hawley inheritance.”
“I see. Yes. What, precisely, is your interest in the matter, Mr. Shayne?”
Shayne leaned back and crossed his legs while he got out a cigarette. “You asked me to come in.”
“So I did.” Mr. Hastings settled the glasses firmly on his nose again and dropped his gaze to the papers spread out in front of him. “Your questions about Jasper Groat led me to believe you are in contact with the man.”
“Let’s say I’m looking for him.”
“You mean to say he isn’t to be found?”
“Not since last night. When he left home to keep his appointment with Beatrice Meany.”
“An appointment which he did not keep,” Hastings pointed out stiffly.
“So Beatrice says. Is it true that neither she nor other members of the family knew until this morning that the exact date of Albert’s death on the life raft was important to them?”
“In what way, Mr. Shayne?”
“In what way, what?”
“Important in what way?”
Shayne leaned forward and said wearily, “Let’s not waste each other’s time. Before you read Ezra’s will this morning did any of the Hawleys realize that the precise date of Albert’s death meant a difference of a couple of million dollars to them?”
“I have no idea where you got hold of that piece of information, Mr. Shayne. Certainly, I said nothing…”
“But Beatrice did,” Shayne told him coldly. “She said all of that and a lot more while we killed a bottle of whisky in her bedroom after you drove away.”
Hastings sighed and removed his glasses. “Beatrice is not to be wholly trusted.”
“Not with liquor or anything wearing pants,” Shayne agreed cheerfully. “But she gave me a pretty straight story about Ezra’s will leaving all his fortune to Albert… but not to Albert’s heirs and assigns if Albert predeceased him. In other words and disregarding legal jargon: The Hawleys get the money if Albert died on the life raft before Ezra died. But if he was alive at the moment of Ezra’s death, he legally inherited and the money passes on to Albert’s divorced wife.”
“That is… essentially correct.” The admission seemed painfully wrung from Hastings’ thin lips.
“I’m asking if any of them realized the situation before you read the will to them this morning.”
“I believe they were aware that Ezra had planned to leave at least the greater portion of his estate to Albert,” Hastings replied cautiously.
“And they also knew that Albert had made a will after his divorce leaving his estate to his ex-wife.”
“I think perhaps they did have that knowledge.”
“Then it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the obvious fact that they’d get the money if Albert died first, but wouldn’t inherit a cent if he lived five days on the raft.”
“An obvious fact, perhaps, to you or to me, Mr. Shayne, who are accustomed to legal matters. I’m not at all sure that they had the situation worked out so logically. Indeed, I had a distinct impression this morning that none of them realized the importance of the date Albert died until I explained it to them.”
“Beatrice says you’re very good at explaining things,” Shayne said casually.
“How’s that?”
“Things like how Ezra stole all the money from his brother while they were in business together.”
Hastings’ lips tightened distastefully. “There was no question of wrong-doing. Abel Hawley was a visionary and a poor businessman. He made bad investments and wasted his portion of the family fortune while Ezra cannily increased his own holdings.”
“And Sarah Hawley has been dependent on Ezra since her husband died?”
“He has been more than generous with her though he was under no legal obligation to provide for his brother’s family at all.”
“That run-down old house doesn’t evidence much generosity from a millionaire.”
“I fail to see what bearing that has on the present situation.”
“Just this: Will Mrs. Hawley and Beatrice actually be left destitute if Ezra’s money does go to Albert’s widow?”
“Practically speaking… I’m afraid the answer is yes.”
“Any chance that the widow will generously share with them?”
“I’m afraid I’m not in a position to answer that question, Mr. Shayne. There is no proof as yet that Mrs. Meredith will inherit.”
Shayne frowned. “Meredith?”
“Albert’s wife married a man named Meredith after their divorce.”
“You mean there is no actual proof yet whether Albert lived four days or five after the plane crashed?”
“That is precisely what I mean, Mr. Shayne.”
“There were two survivors who should be able to testify as to the exact date,” mused Shayne, leaning forward to stub out his cigarette in a spotless ash tray on Hastings’ desk.
“That is correct. If you have knowledge of their present whereabouts, I am most anxious to contact them.”
