Lucile narrowed her eyes at him, looking through a film of smoke. “Evalyn works at the office with me. She and Margo were never really close, and when Henri showed an interest in Margo they stopped seeing each other altogether for a long time.”
“Until Margo invited her to dinner?”
“Yes. I’m positive Margo had a reason. She wanted Evalyn to hear for herself that she was through with Henri.”
“What kind of man is Henri Desmond?”
“He’s a louse. He’s slimy.” She made a grimace of extreme distaste. “I never understood how Margo could stand him, except that she seemed determined to experiment. She believed that an author needed to experience everything. She used to say that it was important to find out what made men like Henri tick.”
“Sexual experimentation?” Shayne asked.
“I guess that was part of her plan, but I don’t believe she would have included Henri that way.” She lowered her eyes, raised them to see a crooked smile on Shayne’s face, then went on with simplicity and defiance. “I have an idea, though, that she planned some such experiment after she’d met you. That’s why she was so excited and happy. She told Evalyn and me that a flame leaped in her heart when you first looked at her.” Lucile laughed and said coquettishly, “There is something about you that gives a girl a warm feeling of wanting to know you better, Michael Shayne.”
Shayne grinned. “It’s my handsome face.” He gently touched the bump on his face. The swelling had gone down, leaving only a small knot directly beneath the broken skin.
“No, it isn’t that,” she said emphatically. “That was a terrible thing for me to say — with Margo dead — murdered.”
Shayne said, “Do you mind going into details about Henri Desmond? I’m trying to get a complete picture of Margo and her life here. All the little things add up to piecing together a composite picture of the causes which led to her murder, and to tracking down her murderer. In picking up a cold trail, the only logical starting point is the character of the victim.”