“Now look here, Mike, if you think I’m going to have her found on my—”
“That’s just the place,” Shayne interrupted. “No one ever goes there. Better not use your car, though,” he decided. “After you collect the pix from the News, rent a U-Drive-It and come back here.”
Rourke started for the door, saying, “Well, so long, Mike. It was nice to’ve known you.”
Shayne reached out two long arms and caught his shoulders. Whirling him around, he continued. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked, and you can come up the fire escape. I’ll decoy any watcher away — and give him the slip — meet you out along the Tamiami Trail, say at the Wildcat.”
Timothy Rourke sighed lugubriously. “If I get a headline out of this I’ll earn it. Maybe I’ll have a chance to write up some firsthand prison stuff. I’ve always had a hankering for that.” He went to the door with a sickly smile that tried to be jaunty, waved his hand, and went out.
Shayne went to the bedroom and switched on the light. He bent over the girl’s body and gently drew her hand down from her face, studying the contorted features and impressing them on his memory.
He went out and got a clean glass from the kitchen, came back, and pressed the tips of her fingers against the glass, hesitated, then pulled down the sheet and spread to get at the other hand which was edged under her body.
He sucked in his breath swiftly and audibly when he saw the tiny beaded bag clenched between her fingers. It was very small and dainty, such as one might carry to a formal evening affair. He closed his eyes and visualized the scene that afternoon when she had come stumbling up the corridor to him. She did not have such a bag in her hand then.
He got a handkerchief from his pocket and dropped it over her hand and the bag, bent each finger back until he could lift it away.
In the living-room he opened it and examined the meager contents. A jeweled compact bearing the initials H. S. Lipstick and some small change, and a tiny mirror with an identification card on the reverse side. The identification card stated that the owner was Helen Stallings.