“What the hell else could I do?” Shayne demanded angrily. “You saw how Will’s mind was working. With that to clinch it, he couldn’t have done anything else except arrest me. This is one time I can’t afford the luxury of going to jail. I’ve got a few hours, maybe, to find out who murdered Carrol, who left me lying for dead in my car this morning, and who is parading around as Mike Shayne.”
Gloom settled over Rourke’s cadaverous features. “That’s a fair-sized order. It appears no one has actually seen the guy. There are supposed to be those letters from him directing that payment be made in cash, but now they’ve disappeared. Where do you start?”
“With Ralph Carrol’s murder.” Shayne’s voice was abruptly vigorous and decisive. “In the end, everything must come back to that. You know anybody in Wilmington who can give me a hand getting the inside dope if I fly up there?”
The reporter thought for a moment, then said, “There’s Ed Smith on AP. He’s run their desk there for years. Want me to call him?”
“Sure.” The telephone rang as he spoke. He gestured to Lucy to take the call, saying, “Get rid of whoever it is. I think you’d better come with me, angel. Call the airport about planes, but don’t use my name for a reservation.”
Lucy drew her chair nearer the desk, picked up the receiver, and said sweetly, “Mr. Shayne’s office.”
“You stay here, Tim,” Shayne said to the reporter. “Keep an eye on things and dig everything you can out of Will.”
He turned as Lucy said into the mouthpiece, “Hold on a moment, Mr. Margrave. I think Mr. Shayne will be most interested.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Would you be interested in investigating the murder of Ralph Carrol? A Mr. Margrave is very anxious to retain you in that capacity.”
She covered the mouthpiece with her palm when Shayne said, “Frankly, this is one time I can be had, and I won’t argue about the size of the retainer.”
He took the phone and said, “Mike Shayne speaking.”