“But the one he gave you in Miami, Mike. I saw it when he handed it to you.”
“Only a glimpse,” Shayne reminded him. “I remembered afterward that he was careful not to let you look at it. And if you wonder why I didn’t have Veigle take your prints with the others, Tim — I was playing with dynamite. I couldn’t remember whether you took a drink out of that bottle in Miami or not.”
Rourke’s sharp nose twitched. “You mean that’s the same bottle? The one Little drank from in your office?”
“Sure. That’s when his prints got there. The poor devil framed himself trying to put on a near-fainting act in my office. Go ahead and get on a phone, Tim. Call me later.”
“Same number?”
Shayne looked around for Lucile. She was standing close to him, her eyes starry. Shayne lifted his brows. “Will I be there — later?”
She nodded emphatically. “You still don’t know what I can do with a real steak.”
Shayne went back to confront Denton and Soule on their way out. He said, “I guess this round was a draw, Denton. I’ll come out swinging next time.”
Captain Denton scowled. “Next time? I thought you were moving on after this was over.”
Shayne rubbed his lean jaw. “I’m beginning to like it here. I may open up an office and stick around.”