“What have you done about it?”
“Nothing yet. I’ve practically blasted the telephone system trying to reach you.”
“Hell of a mouthpiece you are!” Shayne cut in bitterly. “Take your butt in both hands and get down there and release Lucy.”
“Sure, Mike.” The voice was placating, but worried. “What’s it all about?”
“What the hell do you care?” Shayne interrupted hotly. “Get her out of jail. I need her at the office.”
“Right. Where’ll you be?”
“At my office. I’ll expect her in half an hour.”
Shayne hung up. All through the Herald article he had felt sick with a sense of guilt and responsibility for Lucy’s predicament. Now that he had unloaded part of it on his lawyer’s shoulders, he managed a semblance of a grin for his secretary’s determination not to involve him.
“The crazy kid,” he muttered to himself as he returned to the table where the waitress had placed his breakfast.
The pain in his head had subsided to a monotonous throb, and the aroma of bacon and eggs reminded him that he was very hungry. He poured another cup of coffee and attacked his breakfast with relish.