Picking her up, he carried her into the small bedroom, dumped her onto the unused bed, and stood back for a moment staring down at her face. A Mickey Finn, he guessed. Perhaps a couple of them. There was no use hoping for an explanation until she slept it off.
He was turning away when he heard a hesitant rap on the outer door and Phyllis’s clear young voice calling, “Mike, may I come in?”
He reached the bedroom door in three long strides, went through, and closed it softly behind him. “Sure, Phyl,” he called cheerfully. “I was just coming.”
Phyllis entered and glanced around the office, then lifted dark, surprised eyes to his when she saw him alone. “Oh, there’s no one here. I thought perhaps—”
“My client just left.” Shayne grinned reassuringly. He saw her looking at the water glass and the wet splotch on the carpet near the desk. “The guy was drunk,” he explained hastily. “Knocked over my chaser as he was leaving.”
“Oh.” Anxiety gathered in her eyes as she watched him pick up the glass and remnants of ice cubes from the rug. “You took so long,” she said, “and the train leaves in twenty minutes.”
Shayne took the bottle of cognac from the desk and carried it to the wall cabinet. With his back turned toward her, he took a long time adjusting the bottle in the proper niche, then turned slowly, went to her, and put both hands on her shoulders. Looking into her upturned face he said, “As a matter of fact, angel, I can’t go with you. You’ll have to catch the train alone. Something has come up—” His gray eyes were bleak and there were deep hollows in his gaunt cheeks.
“Oh, no!” Tears covered her eyes and choked her voice. She clung to him, crying passionately, “I knew it would be like this. Why does our trip have to be spoiled?”
“God knows, I’m sorry, Phyl.” He held her tight against him, pressed his cheek against her smooth black hair while he spoke rapidly and persuasively. “It’ll only be for a couple of days. You go on. I should have known I couldn’t get away before election. Marsh is up against something that means defeat if I don’t pull him out.”
“Does the election matter so much?” Phyllis sobbed. “Suppose Marsh is defeated?”