Shayne signaled for him to keep his voice low and glanced significantly at Lucy. “Are they saying that?”
“And more,” Rourke assured him. “No one seems to know what any of it is about, and Gentry refuses to make any statement. I’ve got to have something, Mike, to combat the Herald’s extra.”
“I’ll give you something just as soon as I get it myself,” Shayne promised. He paused abruptly and listened to heavy footsteps in the outer office.
Will Gentry rumbled, “Making any headway, Benton?”
“Not much, sir,” Detective Gene Benton replied. “Shayne has been throwing his weight around and refusing to help any.”
The chief came stolidly through the inner doorway.
His face was gray and rumpled, and his suit looked as though he had slept in it. “Where in hell have you been, Mike?” he demanded.
“Places,” he replied.
“You damned sure ducked out of sight in a hurry. You knew I’d be right back when I left your apartment, but you were gone when I got there.”
Shayne shrugged and said, “Someone has to solve your murder cases for you.”