In answer to Shayne’s unspoken question, he said, “That was a report on your friend at the Roney. He claims he was in bed early last night, but no one can verify it. I’ll get after the airlines and see if I can get witnesses up here.”
“And check on a later flight,” said Shayne. “Anything after four-thirty that stops in Wilmington. Maybe you can put it closer.” He added to Bates, “Did Granger contact you this morning?”
“Yes. He phoned about ten, after hearing the news about Ralph. When I told him I was flying down, he invited himself to join me.”
“Any flight between four-thirty and eight, then,” he told Gentry. “I don’t suppose he used his right name, or that the stewardess will be back in Miami yet but someone in the ticket office might remember him.” Shayne stood up and started for the door.
“Where you headed, Mike?” Gentry asked.
“To have a talk with the widow and her boy friend from Wilmington. Then I’d like to see Ann Margrave again and find out where she was at two o’clock this morning.”
Chapter thirteen
A vagrant idea was nagging at the back of Shayne’s mind. It wasn’t clear, yet. He didn’t know exactly what it was or what he hoped it might prove but it was a point that had subconsciously bothered him ever since early in the morning when he and Gentry talked by telephone to Bates in Wilmington.
Upon reaching his car he got in and sat for a moment before starting the motor. In the rush of events since Carrol’s murder, he hadn’t had an opportunity to check at his hotel. This seemed a good time to do it, so instead of driving directly to the Commodore, he stopped off at his hotel.
The clerk on the desk had known the rangy detective for years and greeted him affably. “Bad business in two-sixteen last night, Mr. Shayne. Anything new on the Carrol murder?” His eyes flickered upward to the wound on Shayne’s head and a smile of admiration was forming on his lips when the redhead snapped at him in mock anger.