“I’m wondering about the laws governing buried treasure,” Quarrels said slowly. “The crypt has been sold to Mrs. Parchman but we still own the mausoleum. I think that we could maintain that the treasure was reburied on Florida-American property and that it consequently belongs to us. It’s a nice legal point.”
“A nice point!” Eda Lou cried. “It’s mine! I’ve got a paper to prove it!”
Shayne gave a short deliberate laugh. “My prediction is that most of it’s going to end up with the lawyers.”
Eda Lou must have been closer to the breaking point than Shayne had realized. She threw herself on the box. The box upset, sending gold and silver coins rolling in all directions. By the time the doubloons and pieces-of-eight were gathered up and put back in the box, she was quivering and helpless, her eyes glowing terribly in her pale face.
“I’ll get you, Shayne,” she muttered.
She went for the detective, screaming, trying to rake out his eyes with her curved fingers. It took two husky homicide detectives to pull her away. They heard her swearing and shouting all the way out of the building.
“And that leaves the two survivors,” Tim Rourke said slowly.
Barbara and Kitty, who had harbored murderous thoughts about each other but who were actually guilty of no more than a few minor misdemeanors, were eying each other warily, gauging the changed situation.
“Yeah,” Shayne said. “Anybody want to make book?”
