deep in his pockets. He gulped when he saw the girl.
She ran the last few steps, one hand out, but stopped before she actually touched him. “Honey, I’m so sorry it had to happen! As sorry as I can be. You know you weren’t supposed to be in on it.”
His face contorted painfully. At a brusque signal from Shayne, she got in the Buick.
“Wait here for me,” Shayne told Despard.
Despard kept his head averted. While Shayne went through the pattern involved in starting the car with one hand, Despard said in a choked voice, “Don’t forget to put something on that cut.”
“On my legs?” she said. “No, I’ll take care of it. I won’t see you again, will I, so-well, goodbye.”
Despard didn’t trust himself to answer.
Shayne turned onto Biscayne Boulevard, then pulled over to use the phone. On the third try he found a friend who said she would be willing to put Deedee up for the night.
“Man or woman?” Deedee said when they were moving again.
“Woman.”
“And she’s probably just a bit dykey, huh,” Deedee said sullenly after another moment.
Shayne glanced at her and she said with spirit, “Don’t look at me. I happen to be heterosexual and proud of it.”
“You happen to be what?”
“Heterosexual. That means-”
“I know what it means.”
He delivered her to a Northwest address, promising to explain in the morning how he found himself the custodian of a high-school dropout wearing no underwear. He returned to the Buena Vista street corner. Despard, told by Shayne to stay put, hadn’t moved. He had pulled himself together to the extent of being able to fill and light a pipe. Shayne motioned him to the driver’s side.
“You drive,” he said. “First, hand me the phone book.”
Despard reached all the way over to the shelf behind the back seat. The detective looked up the address listed for Candida Morse.
“Coral Gables. Avenue Muleta. Go over to North Miami Avenue and pick up the Expressway.”
After knocking out his pipe, Despard made a U-turn to join the traffic on 4th Avenue. His narrow, balding head nodded and bobbed at the end of a stalklike neck. He was trying not to look at Shayne, but his head kept turning.
“What do I do, thank you?” he said bitterly. “Or didn’t you arrange that? What kind of a hold do you have over her?”
“I won’t try to figure out what you’re talking about,” Shayne said. “The cops probably gave you a rough time before they found out who you were. You happened to walk in at the wrong time, that’s all. But I doubt if you’ll have any more Wednesday-evening dates with the girl. Something’s missing there, Despard. Some vital little connection, and who’s responsible for it is none of my business, or yours either. If she had all the usual parts, she’d go out with teenage boys and be interested in whatever the hell teenagers are interested in nowadays. But then she wouldn’t have been interested in seducing you, would she?”
“I’m the one who did the seducing,” Despard said miserably.
“That’s what they wanted you to think,” Shayne said. “She was planted on you by Hal Begley Associates, working through a small-time crumb named Jake Fitch.”
“Jake Fitch!” The pale face bobbed around again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s her father.”
“They may be living together. He’s not her father.” For an instant Shayne thought Despard would lose control of the wheel. The Buick drifted across the line, narrowly missing an oncoming car. Sawing at the wheel, Despard brought it back. His Adam’s apple was working.
“I don’t suppose you’d say that so positively unless you know it for a fact. Something terrible must have happened to her when she was young. I thought-”
“You were wrong,” Shayne said briefly. “How did she get you alone?”
“She was sent by the baby-sitting agency. I drove her home. Her father was still working. Jake Fitch was still working. Fitch,” he repeated, pronouncing the name with revulsion. “Her lover? I shared her with Jake Fitch?”
“Move it along, will you, Despard?”
“She was afraid to go in alone. She thought she saw a shadow moving on an upstairs shade. She made me go up to make sure no one was there.” He swallowed heavily. “If that was acting, she did a good job.”
“I doubt if she had to carry you upstairs,” Shayne said dryly. “How much have they taken you for?”
“Not a cent! Oh, I’ve given her presents, perfume, a new dress. I leased the apartment. But my wife happens to run the checkbook in my house, and I assure you I couldn’t sneak any sizeable sum past her.”
“If that checks out,” Shayne said, “I’ll have to report I’ve located the man who sold the T-239 folder.”
The Buick slowed abruptly. “Shayne, you have to be joking. Damn it, I can’t talk and drive at the same time.”
They were on 43rd Street, between First Avenue and North Miami. At a signal from Shayne, Despard pulled over to the curb. Turning all the way around, he said passionately, using both hands, “I didn’t do it. I don’t care what kind of blackmail they tried to use on me, I wouldn’t-”
“What are the photographs like?”
“Photographs? You mean they have pictures of me? Of me and Deedee?” He covered his face. “My God.”
“They were taken the first night,” Shayne said. “Jake said they turned out well. What would your wife do if they showed up in the mail some morning?”
“God,” Despard said again.
“How old do you think the girl is?”
Despard raised his head slowly. “I don’t think. I know. I happened to see a form she was making out. She’s fourteen. But she’s mature for her age.”
“She’s seventeen,” Shayne said. “The form was a fake. The point of this whole operation was to make you think they could break up your family, get you canned from your clubs and slam you in jail for that fine old felony known as statutory rape. Not many people have a stiff enough spine to hold out against that kind of a parlay. Fitch is working for a blackmail and extortion outfit. You can’t tell me they had that kind of ammunition without intending to use it.”
Despard lifted both trembling hands. He worked his Adam’s apple for a moment before he could bring out any words.
“It’s-it’s absolutely the first time I’ve had the slightest hint of any such suggestion. I’ll repeat that under oath.”
“You may have to.”
Despard dropped one hand to Shayne’s shoulder. “You must believe me.”
“Take your hand off me,” Shayne said.
Despard pulled it back as though burned. “I see how you feel. I’m the lowest of the low. I have this-tendency. I love youthfulness. I don’t like to feel old. But with Deedee “it was the first time I ever-continued where I wasn’t wanted. She fought like a cat. And now you tell me it wasn’t real.” His eyes contracted. “Yes, there were signs. There were definite signs. A certain-lubricity. I thought afterward I was trying to fool myself, but perhaps-yes, if her resistance had been genuine, perhaps I would have stopped.” He seemed relieved.
“Let’s hope so,” Shayne said. “Do you play much golf at the North Miami Country Club?”
“Why, yes,” Despard said, the change of subject sending his eyebrows up. “I get in a couple of rounds every weekend, and I usually manage one or two during the week. Why?”
“That’s where Begley picked up the report.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Despard said firmly. “I had access to it, I won’t deny that. My secretary has a Thermofax machine, not that I know how to work it. I played a lot of golf last spring, trying to overcome a slice. But don’t stop looking for the person who really did it, because I didn’t.” He looked ahead through the windshield, holding himself erect. “It’s old-fashioned, but I like to think I believe in honor.”
Shayne made a rude sound.
Despard said stiffly, “You’re entitled to that response. I make this distinction. Despards have often been in
