“Because I’m the best in the business.” Shayne sat down. “How long has Helen Stallings been missing?”
“I didn’t know she was missing. She’s usually missing around here. She wasn’t here for dinner tonight but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Can’t you give me anything that might be a clue?” Shayne persisted. “Mr. Stallings has reason to believe she’s been kidnaped.”
Mrs. Briggs said, “Humph! Kidnaped?” and shook her head. “I’m just the housekeeper here. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.”
Shayne inwardly agreed with her. He nodded impassively and stood up. Mrs. Briggs let him go to the door alone. As he went out he glanced back at her and surprised a look of dismay and fear on her dour features.
He closed the door and went slowly toward his car, puckering his lips to produce a tuneless whistle. The whistle echoed back from out of the enveloping island silence.
Turning his head, he saw a lighted upstairs window that had been dark when he approached the house. Lucile was leaning out, her head supporting the unlatched screen as she looked down at him in the moonlight. Her lips were softly echoing his whistle.
Shayne halted on the edge of the grass and lifted one hand in a mock gesture of farewell.
Lucile shook her head and gesticulated frantically, pointing toward the north side of the house. Shayne hesitated only an instant, then nodded and threaded his way between clumps of blooming hibiscus in the direction indicated.
Lucile withdrew from the window, and her light went out. A concrete driveway led along the north side to a separate garage in the rear. Near the front of the house an iron-railed outside stairway led up to a hanging balcony of Spanish design.