“By the grace of God I had time to get her out of sight before anyone got there. But we’ve got to move her. She’s bound to be discovered if—”
“Not me,” Rourke demurred stoutly. “Not in my car, either. Damn it, Mike, rent a hearse if you insist on ghouling around with cadavers.”
“Come on,” Shayne growled. He caught the reporter’s arm and urged him on, occasionally turning his head and straining his eyes to see whether the wreck scene was deserted. “It may be too late already.”
“That’s my one fervent hope,” said Rourke. “What’s it all about? Why should someone snatch her from your room and then stage a wreck to toss her back in your lap? It doesn’t make sense.”
Shayne didn’t reply. When they reached Rourke’s car muffled sounds were emanating from the short-wave radio which the reporter had left turned on. Shayne jerked the door open and got in, turned the dial up just in time to hear the words, “… body of unidentified young woman. That is all.”
Rourke, behind the wheel, glanced sideways at Shayne. A look of defeat settled over the detective’s gaunt features. For a moment his defenses were down and he looked old and weary.
The expression on Shayne’s face shocked Timothy Rourke out of his flippant mood. Deprived of his aura of invincibility, Michael Shayne was no different from lesser men, and Rourke averted his eyes quickly, ashamed that he had witnessed the change. He felt as low as if he had peeped through a keyhole and watched a beautiful and glamorous woman become haggard with the removal of her make-up.
With as much cheerfulness as he could muster, Rourke said, “We’re jumping to conclusions, Mike. We don’t know that it’s Helen Stallings. Might be some other unidentified body.”
“Yeh,” Shayne agreed tonelessly. “Might be. Drive down the boulevard and we’ll see what’s happened. If she has been found there — that close to my car — I’m sunk.” He put a cigarette between his puffed lips and struck two matches before getting a light.
Rourke drove forward slowly. The crowd of spectators had disappeared from the scene of the wreck. A wrecking-car had hauled away the twisted ruins of Shayne’s car, and the only evidence in sight as they rolled slowly past was the glitter of splintered glass and the broken lamppost.