Shayne said, “This is a friend of Margo’s.”
“Margo Macon?”
“That’s right. I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but it’s really important that I see you at once. May I come up?”
“Why should you? It’s past midnight.”
“I’m sorry. It’s still important.” He paused briefly, then added, “I gather that the police haven’t got to you yet.”
“The police? Why should they?”
“There’s no use discussing it over the phone,” Shayne said brusquely. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.” He hung up and went out to find a cab.
Chapter nine
The address on North Rampart street was a neat brick apartment house. Shayne found Lucile Hamilton’s name above a brass mailbox in the small entrance hall and pressed the button above it. He had his hand on the doorknob when it clicked. He opened the door and went up the carpeted stairs, turned right when he saw a girl peering anxiously from an apartment at the end of the hall.
Lucile Hamilton had a sweet, rounded face, and her clear brown eyes were wide with anxiety as she greeted Shayne from the doorway. “Are you the man who telephoned just now?” she asked softly.