Shayne considered for a brief period, then concluded, “I think we should clear up the Wilmington end first, Will. Why don’t you call Bates right now?”
“But it’s three-thirty in the morning,” Nora protested. “He won’t be in his office.”
“Then give us his home telephone number, if you have it,” Shayne cut in tersely. “He should be notified of Carrol’s death, anyway.”
She opened her purse reluctantly and took out a small address book. “It’s just terrible to wake him up like this and tell him Ralph has been murdered. Could I talk to him, please. The shock will—”
“After I’ve asked a couple of questions,” Gentry promised. “Have you found the number?”
She nodded and read it from the book through blurred eyes.
Gentry got long-distance and gave the number in Wilmington, Delaware. Shayne moodily poured himself more brandy, took a fresh handkerchief from his pocket, pressed it into Nora’s hand.
Only a few seconds elapsed before he said, “Mr. Bates? Chief Gentry calling from Miami. A man who is registered in a hotel here as Ralph Carrol of Wilmington has been murdered. I understand he was a client of yours.” He waited placidly while an excited voice crackled into the receiver and mingled with Nora’s audible sobs.
“No, we haven’t any real clue as to the killer yet. But there are a couple of questions you can answer. Is it a fact that you advised and aided Mrs. Carrol in coming to Miami yesterday to attempt a reconciliation with her husband?”
He nodded his head while listening to the lawyer’s reply, then said, “I see. Yes, she’s right here and wants to speak to you as soon as I’ve finished. It appears right now that her husband was killed before she was able to see him. The important thing I need from you right now, Mr. Bates, is the name of the private detective in Miami who located Mr. Carrol for you, and made the arrangements for Mrs. Carrol to enter her husband’s suite in the middle of the night.”