“No. There wasn’t anybody here when we arrived. Miss Dort arrived a little before seven. She says she always comes around that time to clean up the place and go over the appointments. She found you lying on the floor back there. No sign of Thompson.”
“That’s a preposterous story, Shayne,” said Painter. “Do you expect us to believe the house was ransacked before you got here?”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe,” Shayne said wearily. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said by way of apology to the nurse as she entered carrying a white enameled tray with a small glass containing a couple of ounces of brandy. “Do you know what anyone could have been looking for in the doctor’s study?”
“I haven’t any idea. Just his files are in there. I really haven’t had a chance to check up on what may be missing.” She handed him the glass and admonished, “Sip that slowly.”
Gentry said, “You’d better give us some background on this, Mike,” persuasively. “Arthur Devlin is missing. Do you think he was the man behind the door?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Shayne truthfully.
“I want all the information you have on this case,” Painter cut in. “Gentry has been stalling as to just what your interest is, but I’ll slap you in jail if you try to withhold information from me.”
“What sort of information would I have?” drawled Shayne. “If I knew who conked me, I’d certainly tell you. Maybe you’d like to give them a medal,” he added, grinning up at Painter, who stood stiffly before him.
Painter’s black eyes flashed with anger and irritation. “What connection is there between Devlin and the dead man — between Devlin and this Doctor Thompson?” he demanded.
“Didn’t Will tell you we got on Devlin’s trail through a taxi driver? I just followed along and don’t know any more about it than you do,” Shayne told him pleasantly.
“And I suppose you just followed along when you sneaked over here from the Clairmount. How did you know where to come when it took Sergeant Hopkins some time to check the telephone number and get this address?”
“You know I work fast, Petey,” Shayne said, deliberately antagonizing him. “If I gave away all my trade secrets people wouldn’t pay me fat fees for solving your cases for you.”
“Trade secrets, hell! You had inside information that brought you here. It’s perfectly evident that you knew Doctor Thompson had been Devlin’s visitor all along, yet you kept that information to yourself and hurried over here ahead of the authorities.”
Shayne shrugged and said, “Is it?”
“Is it what?” Painter asked in confusion.
“Perfectly evident.” Shayne turned an amused glance on Gentry. “Doesn’t Petey really know how I found this place?”
Gentry’s expression was one of cautious resignation. His rumpled eyelids were at half-mast, his slightly protruding eyes rueful. It was clear that he didn’t know either, but was determined not to give Painter the satisfaction of hearing him admit it. “I don’t believe he does, Mike,” he drawled. “But to hell with that. Where’s Devlin and where’s Thompson?”
As though on cue, the nurse hurried into the reception room and exclaimed, “There’s the doctor now!” She flung the front door open as a shiny black coupe pulled up behind the police cars outside and a man got out and slammed the door shut.
Doctor Thompson walked into tense, questioning silence in the reception room, his small black bag in his hand. He was bareheaded and perspiration streamed down his plumpish cheeks. He looked perturbed and worried and angry.
Dropping his bag onto an empty chair, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at the three men, then said, “What is the meaning of this, Miss Dort? You know no one is to be admitted before ten o’clock.”
“Doctor Thompson?” Will Gentry pulled his heavy body up from the deep chair and moved toward him.
“Yes. And who, may I ask—?”
“Police,” said Gentry quietly. “I’m from Miami and haven’t jurisdiction, but Chief Painter is with me.”
“Police.” Doctor Thompson echoed the word as though he had expected and feared it. “I see. Please take my bag in the office — and wait there.”
When she was gone he went over and closed the door, then asked stiffly, “May I ask why you are here?”
“First, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.” Gentry motioned toward Shayne. “Ever see him before?”
From behind the horn-rimmed lenses Doctor Thompson’s eyes studied Shayne’s bandaged face. “Not that I recall.”
“Are you positive you didn’t knock him out about an hour ago when you caught him ransacking your study?” Painter demanded, strutting forward.
“My study — ransacked? An hour ago? I don’t understand.”
“Where have you been?” asked Gentry. “And how long?”
“On a wild-goose chase,” Thompson said angrily. “If I had hold of the fool who pulled such a stunt, I’d wring his neck. I’ve been chasing all over this damned peninsula for the last two hours,” he went on indignantly, “trying to find a non-existent Hyacinth Island. Did any of you ever hear of Hyacinth Island?”
All three shook their heads, but Painter said, “That doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Nobody can keep track of all those new dredging developments in the bay. New islands are sprouting up all the time.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Thompson, “when I started out to find it. But there isn’t a Hyacinth Island. But you haven’t explained why you’re here to see me,” he broke off abruptly.
“Right now I’m interested in this call you’ve been on,” Gentry told him. “Tell us all about it.”
“The telephone rang about five. I’d just gotten to sleep soundly after another late call. It was a man, excited and in a hurry. He seemed to know me and I had a feeling the voice was familiar, though I couldn’t place it — and he didn’t give me a chance to ask questions. Just said there’d been a terrible accident on Hyacinth Island and two men were dying. He begged me to come at once, and hung up.” The doctor shrugged his heavy shoulders. “What else could I do? I thought I’d have no trouble finding it. But damn it, there is no such island anywhere around Miami Beach.”
“Are you sure about the time, Doctor?”
“I looked at my watch when I was dressing. It was five after five.”
“It was five-thirty when you left me at the Clairmount,” Gentry said to Shayne. “How long were you getting here?” At the word Clairmount, Shayne, who had not taken his eyes from the doctor for a moment, noted that he started slightly and his eyes took on an owlish glint of understanding.
“Not more than fifteen minutes,” Shayne told Gentry readily. He asked Thompson, “Do you always leave your back door wide open when you go out on calls?”
“Certainly not. I didn’t go out the back door. I left my car parked in front when I came home earlier.”
“From visiting Arthur Devlin at the Clairmount?” Gentry rumbled.
Doctor Thompson pursed his lips and a harried look settled on his face. He moved to one side and seated himself, placed both hands on his knees and told Gentry quietly, “Yes. I saw Art earlier. About two o’clock. Did he send you here?”
“We’ll ask the questions,” Painter snapped, interposing himself between Gentry and the doctor. “Why did Devlin call you to his apartment?”
“Ask him.”
Gentry walked back to his chair and sat down while Painter planted himself in front of the doctor. “None of that,” he said. “We intend to have the truth.”
Doctor Thompson drew in a deep breath and said forcibly, “I have no intention of discussing one of my patients with you.”