“Shouldn’t we stay to hear what Ralph says? Did he kill the man in the motel?”
“If he did, Will can get it out of him without any help from me. If you told the truth, it’s a cinch he didn’t kill Baron McTige.” He was hurrying her down the corridor.
“I did tell the truth, Michael.” Lucy tried to pull her arm away. “If you and Chief Gentry are going to doubt my word, I think I have a right to stay here…”
“You heard what Will said. That was a direct order. I’m taking you home, angel, and you’re going to stay home until we get a couple of messy murders cleared up.”
“All right,” Lucy Hamilton said meekly. “Heaven knows, I was just trying to help you do your job out at the Bright Spot. And heaven knows,” she added more forcibly, “I’ll be glad to get home and lock the door behind me.”
“That’s just where we’re going,” Shayne assured her, leading her out a side door to his car. “After we make one stop to check up on one little thing.”
“What’s that, Michael?” Lucy moved over to press against him as he got under the wheel.
“The doorman at the Bright Spot.” Shayne put the heavy sedan in gear and pulled away from police headquarters into a street almost empty of traffic at this hour. “The way you told it to Will, you left Mrs. Shephard… let’s call her by her real name… in front of the club waiting for you while you went back to try and see Sloe Burn yourself. And when you came back with Ralph to prove you weren’t Mrs. Shephard, she had disappeared. And the doorman denied there had ever been a woman waiting there for you to come back. Is that right?”
“That’s just the way it happened, Michael. That’s why Ralph was sure I was lying and that I was Mrs. Shephard.”
“None of the rest of it would have happened if the doorman had told the truth.”
“Of course not. That’s what really convinced Ralph. I still don’t know why the doorman lied. He saw us there together.”
Shayne said, “That’s what we’re going to find out.” He turned south into Miami Avenue, headed toward the Tamiami Trail.
It was just a little before midnight when they reached the Bright Spot again. The same parking attendant came up shaking his head when they stopped in front of the canopied entrance, and the same doorman stood back under the canopy and watched with supreme disinterest as they were told, “We’re full up, Mister. If you wanta come back in abouta hour…”
Shayne turned off the ignition and shook his red head. He unlatched the door and pushed it against the attendant, and reminded him, “You tried to pull that on me once before tonight.”
The man recognized him, then, and stepped out of the way hastily without protesting further. Shayne went around to Lucy’s side and opened the door. He helped her out with his hand on her elbow, led her up to the doorman and asked her, “Is this the fellow?”
“Yes,” she declared positively. “He’s the one who lied when Ralph asked him about Mrs. Shephard whom I left standing here waiting for me.”
“How about it, bud?” Shayne’s voice was harsh. “You heard the lady. Ever see her before?”
The doorman had a sallow face and pinched eyes. He blinked and looked nervously away from Shayne over his shoulder at the entrance, but this time no tuxedoed bouncer showed up to help him. “I dunno,” he muttered. “People coming and going all night. How’m I expected to remember…”
“You remember all right.” Shayne slammed his left hand onto the man’s shoulder and slapped him hard with his other hand. “Out of all the people that were here tonight, there weren’t very many ladies. When Miss Hamilton came back from the stage-door with Ralph Billiter, why did you tell him she hadn’t left another lady waiting in front when she went back?”
“Because I got paid to, that’s why,” the doorman whined. “Twenny bucks, she gave me, to say I hadn’t never seen her.”
Shayne’s heavy fingers tightened crushingly on the frightened man’s shoulder. “Tell us all of it.”
“That’s all. She stood here while this lady went back. And she said would I get her car for her while she waited. She give me her ticket and I had her car brought around. Just when it got here she saw Sloe Burn go streaking by in her car from where it was parked in the back where all the performers park. She jumped like she was shot and shoved a twenny-dollar bill in my hand, and says, ‘I ain’t been here at all tonight. Don’t tell nobody you saw me.’
“Then she takes off like a bat out of hell right behind Sloe Burn. And I swear honest to God, Mister, I ain’t seen neither of ’em since. Another thing, Mister, I’m telling you I don’t want no messing around with Ralph Billiter nor that Sloe Burn. Them conch shells they carry all the time! I’d rather face up to a razor. So when he come and asked me, I just didn’t want no part of it.”
Shayne released him with a shove that sent him sprawling back through the open door. He led Lucy back to the car and slammed the door when she was inside, stalked around to the other side where the attendant was discreetly keeping out of sight.
Lucy sighed as he drove away, and said in a small voice, “So you found out I was telling the truth, Michael. What else did you accomplish?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “Except the small pleasure of slapping the truth out of that punk. So now you are going home, and let’s hope Will Gentry hasn’t sent around for you yet.”
At her apartment building, Shayne got out and went in with her, explaining, “I need a drink and I want to call Tim. Then I’ll get out of your way.”
“You needn’t sound so defensive about it,” she told him merrily as she unlocked the outer door and preceded him inside. “You can have two drinks if you want… and make two telephone calls.”
When she opened her own door and turned on the light, the first thing she saw was the telephone pad with his message where he had left it lying on the floor. She picked it up and read it, then suddenly turned and crumpled against him. “Oh, Michael. I was so damned scared.”
“So was I.” He held her tightly, looking down at the top of her smooth brown head just beneath his lips, and thinking how very dear Lucy Hamilton was to him.
Her telephone started ringing as his arms slowly tightened around her taut body. She said, “Oh, damn!” and moved out of his arms to answer it.
He chuckled and went to the coffee table to pour himself a drink, listening unashamedly to her end of the telephone conversation.
“Oh, Tim. I just this moment got in. I know Michael was worried, but I doubt that you were. Yes, he’s right here. He was just going to call you, believe it or not.” She turned and extended the telephone toward him, saying unnecessarily, “It’s Tim.”
Shayne took a sip of cognac and put the instrument to his ear and said, “Yeh?”
“Mike. Have you got the word on McTige? Your fellow Eye from Chicago?”
Shayne said placidly, “I’m ’way ahead of you on him. I found the guy.”
“You what? Oh, hell, I might’ve known. An anonymous telephone call they said. All right. Trump this one too. Go on and tell me you found Shephard also.”
“Shephard?” Shayne didn’t try to keep the astonishment out of his voice.
“I just got the flash from headquarters and I’m on my way out.”
“Where?”
“About two miles west of the Bright Spot on the Trail. He got it just like McTige, Mike. A conch shell into his temple.”
Shayne said, “I’ll see you,” and pronged the instrument. He turned, tossing off the rest of the cognac, and met Lucy’s anxious eyes.
“Shephard is dead, too. That makes three in one evening, angel. Two of them with a conch shell, according to Tim. Put the chain on your door.” He was on his way out as he finished.
17
Shayne had no trouble locating the murder scene. Driving west on Tamiami Trail, he saw a collection of
