“I needed something to wake me up,” he confessed. “Twenty-four hours ago I didn’t believe I’d ever be interested in another case.”
“I’m glad if I’ve helped.”
“You’ve helped plenty.” Shayne went into the breakfast nook to get the cognac bottle, asking, “Want some of this stuff straight?”
“No, thanks. That hot mixture was pretty insidious. If I had another drink I’d probably insist that you make an honest woman of me.”
Shayne took a drink and replied seriously. “A little while ago I was going to suggest that as a possible out if things go wrong this afternoon.”
Lucile laughed lightly. “It won’t be necessary. I feel completely honest.”
Shayne looked at his watch. The time was ten o’clock. “I’m going to make a long-distance call.”
He dialed the operator and said, “I want to get Timothy Rourke in Miami, Florida. Person to person.” He gave her Tim’s residence number and waited, explaining to Lucile, “Tim Rourke is a reporter who’s always played ball with me in Miami. If this story breaks the way I hope it will—”
He was interrupted by the operator. “Here’s your party — go ahead.”
“Tim?” Shayne said into the mouthpiece.