“Ludlow. You know.” There was a gasp, then a pause. “This ain’t Shayne,” he yelped. “The cops are already—” A sharp click stung his eardrum.
Shayne cradled the receiver slowly and sat tugging at his ear lobe, trying to remember someone named Ludlow, when the telephone rang again.
He picked up the receiver and heard the substitute operator on the lobby switchboard saying, “Here’s Mr. Shayne now.”
“I’ve been trying to get you,” a husky voice complained. It was furred with sleep or with too many drinks, “I’ve just heard the shocking news about Ralph Carrol over the radio. Nora’s name wasn’t mentioned. Do you think she is involved?”
“Who’s calling?” Shayne asked.
“You wouldn’t know my name, but it’s very important that I see you at once, Mr. Shayne. If the police don’t already know, we’ve got to keep Nora out of it. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to forget everything you know about tonight.”
Shayne said, “Ten grand is a nice round sum. Who’s offering it?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I have the cash. All I need is your assurance that you won’t tell the police about Nora.”
Shayne said, “I think we’d better talk this over. Where are you?”
“Not so fast,” the furry voice objected. “How do I know you’re not already in touch with the police?”