Shayne nodded happily. “Right on schedule.” He sat down with his drink.
Phyllis came over and insinuated herself into his lap. She rubbed her cheek against his, and teased, “Tell me, Mike. About the worms you’ve been gathering while I slept.”
“The blow-off is set for seven o’clock tonight. You don’t deserve a preview.”
“Then you’ve solved it?” Phyllis cried delightedly.
“With a few ifs and buts and ands and maybes. Some few of which I hope to clear up before tonight.” His fingers drummed impatiently on the arm of his chair and his eyes suddenly took on a faraway look.
He said, “Do you know something, Phyl?”
“How can I?” she pouted. “You never tell me anything.”
He said, “Honest to God, angel, this is the first time I’ve stopped to ask myself why I’ve been running around working my head off on this case.”
“Because you’re a famous detective and people expect you to solve it.”
Shayne shook his head angrily and drank some cognac. “I’m slipping, all right. I’ve figured every angle except my own pay-off. Damn it, Phyl. I haven’t even thought about collecting a fee.”