“Yes. I can see that. But I won’t be under any obligation to go on with it until I’ve seen and approved the plans,” said Anita a trifle sharply.
“Indeed not. There is no obligation whatsoever.” Lucy laughed flutingly. She stood up. “If you can just give me directions so I can find the grave myself…?”
Anita said, “I haven’t inquired directly of Charles myself… for the exact spot he chose. I was so overwrought last night that I trusted his taste and good judgment.” She dropped a languid hand to an ivory-colored telephone handset beside her and pressed a button before lifting the instrument.
Lucy stood back unobtrusively and watched her closely as she spoke into the mouthpiece. It seemed to Lucy her husky voice had a definable lilt to it and the tight serenity of her features relaxed a trifle as she said, “Charles? Would you please come upstairs?”
She replaced the instrument and said, “My chauffeur will take you to poor Daffy’s grave. And I am pleased that you came to talk to me, Miss Hamilton. I think the work you are doing is perfectly wonderful.”
“We like to think so, too,” Lucy told her. “I find it very… rewarding.” The final word almost stuck in her throat but she managed to get it out. Suddenly the overheated room and the presence of Mrs. Anita Rogell was almost more than she could stand. “Dear God,” she thought to herself, “the things I do in the name of loyalty to Michael Shayne!” But when she had gotten safely away, she knew she would be glad she had come. Because if John Rogell had been murdered, and if this sex-mouthed child-bride of his had had a hand in his death, Lucy knew that she would be happy to move heaven and earth to see that justice was done. She didn’t know exactly why, but she did know she had never before met a woman whom she detested so swiftly and so heartily. And even as she thought that about Anita, the unbidden question flashed through her mind: “Would Michael agree with me? How would he react to that almost angelic beauty and that mouth that promises so much? How would any man react to Anita?”
There was a light rap on the door behind her and she turned to see it open and a stocky young man in dark, green uniform with polished leather puttees standing there. He had heavy, cleanshaven features, with piercing black eyes beneath thick brows that met above the bridge of a blunt nose. His chin was square and his lips were full, though somehow they conveyed a hint of cruelty. His manner was informally respectful without being servile, and his voice was a well-modulated baritone as he said, “What is it, Ma’am?”
“This is Miss Hamilton, Charles.” Anita lifted her left hand toward Lucy. “She is from the Pet Haven Eternal, and I want you to take her out and show her the spot where Daffy is buried. I may decide to beautify the grave.”
He looked at Lucy and nodded gravely without speaking, and stepped back into the hall. Lucy went to the door, saying brightly, “Thank you very much for the time you’ve given me, Mrs. Rogell. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”
She stepped gladly out of the hot room into the dimly cool hall, and followed the chauffeur who stolidly led her to a narrow rear stairway that led out to the back of the house.
4
Michael Shayne was pacing back and forth between the waiting room and his inner office when Lucy Hamilton returned. He swung on her disappointedly and growled, “I’ve been waiting for a phone call to come and get the mutt. No soap?”
Lucy shook her head, lifting off her floppy hat and stripping off white gloves. “She wouldn’t buy it, Michael. She’s positive Daffy will be happier buried right there at home.”
“You did see her?”
“Oh, I saw her all right. And gave her the pitch. She just didn’t fall for it.”
“What’s she like, Lucy?”
Lucy Hamilton hesitated and took a deep breath before replying, “Like an angel infested with leprosy, Michael.” Her eyes were wide and troubled as they met his searching gaze candidly. “How can I say it? She’s devastatingly beautiful… with a diseased soul.”
Shayne said quietly, “You’re trying to say you wouldn’t put it past her to murder her husband and then try to murder Henrietta, if she decided the old gal was a nuisance.”
“I guess that is what I’m trying to say. Yet, I have nothing to go on… except for her mouth. And that, I’m not going to describe for you. I just hope I’m around the first time you see her.”
“Did you manage to see any of the others?”
“A maid named Maybelle who reluctantly let me in. Her charming brother, Marvin… and Charles.”
Shayne grinned slightly at the change in Lucy’s tone when she spoke the chauffeur’s name. “Tell me about Charles.”
“I got quite well acquainted with Charles in the space of about ten minutes,” Lucy said quietly. “He’s… got something, Michael. It’s so darned hard to describe…” Her voice trailed off as she turned toward the gate in the railing that led to her desk. With her profile to Shayne, she went on slowly, choosing her words carefully, “It’s a sort of aura about him. Almost a physical emanation. You feel he’s completely primitive. Animal-like.” She stopped at the railing and turned a flushed face to him.
“All right,” she said fiercely. “I’ll say it out loud. He makes a woman feel that loving him would be wild and free and wonderful. He makes you feel that he’s male and you’re female. Without touching me and almost without speaking, he managed to rouse instincts I didn’t even know I possessed. I didn’t lie with him there in the woods, but… for a moment I wanted to. And now…” Her voice sank. “I honestly don’t know whether I wish I had, or not.”
After this extraordinary outburst, Lucy dropped into her chair and covered her face with her hands, leaned forward while her shoulders shook violently.
Shayne stood very still and said, “Lucy.” When she didn’t lift her head, he turned into his office and reappeared in a few minutes with a half-and-half mixture of cognac and ice water in a paper cup. She was still leaned forward over her desk with her face in her hands, shoulders heaving.
His face was sombre as he went to her. He put a firm hand on her shoulder and tightened his fingers hurtingly. He said, “Sit up and drink this.”
She straightened slowly and took her hands away from tear-streaked cheeks. She looked up at him dully for a moment and then took the cup and obediently emptied it. She crumpled it with a long, shuddering sigh and said, “Now I know everything. I’m at least ten years older than Charles, yet he made me feel like a virgin maiden of sixteen.”
Shayne said quietly, “He must be quite a guy.”
“It isn’t anything he does or says, Michael,” she cried out despairingly. “It’s the way he is. You’ll never understand.”
“No,” said Shayne equably, “I don’t suppose I ever will.” He lowered one hip to the railing so he was close to Lucy, but he didn’t look at her. “You make it sound like a pretty explosive set-up, the way you describe the two of them.”
“Oh, I suppose I’m exaggerating horribly.” He heard Lucy blow her nose, and her voice became more normal. “Good heaven! How melodramatic can you get?”
“What about the brother?”
“Marvin? Oh, he’s a weak lush.”
Shayne tugged at his earlobe. “You make it seem more important than ever to get that dog’s stomach contents analyzed. Damn it, Lucy! Do you suppose she suspected what you were after?”
“No. I’m sure she didn’t.” Lucy was composed now, and when Shayne looked at her inquiringly she wrinkled her nose at him and smiled shyly. “I think I’ve made up my mind,” she announced. “I’ve been arguing with myself all the way back from the Rogell estate. Shall I tell Michael, or shan’t I? I know I shouldn’t, darn it. You’ll probably end up in a peck of trouble and it’ll all be my fault. On the other hand…” She paused disconcertingly and opened her leather handbag to rummage inside it.
“Should or shouldn’t tell me what?” demanded Shayne.
“Where Daffy is buried. If I do tell you, I know perfectly well you’ll be out there, as soon as it’s dark, digging her up. You’ll be trespassing and breaking I don’t know how many laws… and if Charles should catch you at it…” She shuddered and then looked down into her bag with a frown.