“Come on out, then, but make it snappy. We’ll hold off until you get here.”
Shayne emerged from the booth and grinned at Timothy Rourke. “It’s your turn now,” he said. “Call Painter and tell him I’ve just slipped across to Swordfish Island with murderous intent. Tell him to throw a cordon around the island so I can’t get away. And have him bring Whit Marlow along if he knows where the lad is.”
“I hope,” said Rourke, “you know what you’re doing.”
“So,” said Shayne gravely, “do I.” He gave Rourke a shove toward the phone booth. “Get in there and do your stuff. You can explain that your friendship with me stops at being an accomplice to murder.”
Rourke nodded when he came out of the booth. “He’ll have the island surrounded in ten minutes.”
“Come on. We’ve got to get over the bridge before the police get here. Wouldn’t do to disappoint Petey.”
They drove across the bridge, and Rourke parked in front of the house. They withdrew to the shelter of some shrubbery instead of entering the house at once, and watched while the procession began to arrive.
Dr. Patterson came first, with Burt Stallings right behind him. Arch Bugler was next, followed in a few minutes by Jim Marsh.
As Marsh went up the walk, Shayne nudged Rourke and grinned. “Time we were getting in on this. It ought to be good about now.”
They hurried up the walk behind Marsh, and Shayne caught the door as it swung shut behind him. He and Rourke entered in time to see Marsh following the maid out of the small anteroom. They trailed along to the library, a spacious high-ceilinged room already vibrating with loud questions tossed among the trio who had entered first. Marsh contributed to the general consternation when he entered and nervously asked for Shayne.