“Sort of nuts,” she answered, snuggling against him. “I don’t get her at all. And the way I’ve seen the old man looking at her— well!”
“Stallings?”
“The old goat.” Lucile pursed her lips resentfully. “If he gave me the eye like that—”
“You’d give it right back to him, I’ll bet,” Shayne told her cheerfully. “You can’t blame Stallings so much. Helen’s only his stepdaughter.”
“Sure. But you’d think with his wife sick and all—”
“I wonder if she is a hophead,” Shayne muttered. “That might be an angle.”
“There you go,” the girl complained. “I knew you were just after information. You don’t care a thing about me.”
“Give me a chance to show you. At two o’clock. You don’t think there’s actually anything going on between Helen and her stepfather, do you?’
“I wouldn’t know,” Lucile answered resentfully. “Their rooms are right next to each other. And it’s a cinch she doesn’t care much about the old lady. I haven’t caught her going in to see her mother once since they moved in. But let’s talk about you and me.”
The lights of an automobile crossing the bridge cut a white swath across the garden. Lucile jumped up with a startled cry. “I’ve got to get in before they find out. Two o’clock — across the bridge.”