Chief Gentry called the homicide squad in, then said to Shayne, “That’s all for us here, Mike. Margrave is probably at headquarters by this time.”
On their way to the elevator, Gentry asked with interest, “How does it look to you now, Mike? Anything smell about this setup?”
“No,” said Shayne honestly. “Everything Mrs. Carrol said checks with what little I heard outside the door. Of course, we’ve only her word for any of it, but if everything else checks out, I don’t see how we can disprove it.
“But there’s still a guy around Miami who’s been taking my name in vain,” he went on angrily, “who gave her the wrong key and the wrong number last night. He’s the man I want to get my hands on right now.”
Gentry was quiet in the elevator, but when they were in the lobby and moving toward the front door, he said, “I still like Margrave.”
“But why, Will? When I gave you Margrave, I was postulating the whole hoax on the belief it had been a deliberate and carefully premeditated plan to get rid of Carrol. But if Granger is the killer, that knocks Margrave out. He had no motive for impersonating me.”
“We’ll know more about that if the airport employees identify him. Coming along?” he asked when they reached the sidewalk.
“In a few minutes,” Shayne hedged, going to his own car. “I still want to have a go at finding out one thing from Ann Margrave, and I only hope she’s still sober enough to tell me.”
Chapter fourteen
The waiter in the small bar off Collins Avenue recognized Shayne with a broad grin when he entered. The place was now well filled with late lunchers; but the waiter led Shayne to the rear where Ann Margrave still sat at the same table where they had talked earlier. She was leaning forward with her left elbow on the table, her chin cupped in her palm, the remains of a highball close to her right hand.