“I won’t be home for a few days, Mr. Quayle. The Curtins are taking me to Havana. But if I can be of any help by staying ...”
“Now see here, young lady. You just go on to Havana and enjoy yourself. The FBI will find him, don’t you worry.”
Vicki thanked him and started to hang up, then she thought of something else.
“Did you find out anything about Mr. Duke and Mr. Eaton-Smith?”
“It appears that both of them are out of town ...”
“Gone?” Vicki almost shouted the word. “Maybe they forced Mr. Tytell to go with them! Maybe they ...”
Mr. Quayle’s good-natured laugh came over the wire. “Better not jump to conclusions, Miss Barr. Mr. Duke told some friends that he was going out of town on business. He didn’t say where. And Mr. Eaton-Smith’s office said that he had flown to Nassau. We’re making a check, of course, on the basis of the reports you made to me. But you have to remember that both men are respected businessmen here in Tampa and that the nature of their businesses compels them to travel a good deal. We can’t barge in with charges we have no way of proving. But again, don’t worry. If they’ve done anything unlawful, we’ll find out. Now you run along to Havana and have a good time.”
Vicki thanked him and hung up.
Early the next morning Mr. Curtin and the girls boarded a Federal Airlines plane for Havana. It was fun, she thought, as she leaned back in the reclining seat, to travel as a passenger. Both the stewardesses on the flight were old friends with whom she had flown many times. They made a point of waiting on her with mock pomp and ceremony, and referred to her, sometimes two and three times in one sentence, as “Madame.”