“Murdered? Oh, no!” Her voice cried out vehemently against the unfairness of it. “Not Margo! She was so vitally alive. How terrible!” Her eyes flashed angrily when she realized the full import of his words. “Tell me how it happened. Who murdered her?”
“I found Margo dead when I went to keep my date with her. I was detained until after eleven. It must have happened soon after you girls left. They don’t know who did it,” Shayne continued harshly. “Right now I’m the chief suspect. That’s why I want you to tell me everything you can — to help find her murderer.”
“They think you did it?” Lucile gasped.
Shayne nodded grimly. “They learned about our meeting this afternoon. The woman who served your dinner swears she saw a man leap from Margo’s balcony to mine just about the time the murder was committed.”
Tears filled Lucile’s eyes and overflowed on her cheeks, but she made no sound. Shayne sat down beside her, put an arm around her shoulders, and said, firmly, “I know this is tough on you, but you’ve got to help all you can. You’ve got to tell me about Margo — about tonight.”
She turned her face against him and cried for a while. After a few moments her slender body grew rigid. She lifted her face and said, “I’m sorry.”
Shayne got up and crushed his cigarette out in the ash tray. “Why don’t you try some cold water on your face? Then we’ll talk.”
“I will.” She went to a door beyond the end of the couch, and before entering, said, “I won’t be long.”
Shayne paced restlessly around the room, walking through an archway into a small breakfast nook and making a cursory examination of the tiny kitchenette.
He resumed his seat when she came out. Her clear skin was flushed from the cold water and she hadn’t put on any make-up. She said, “I’m all right now. I’m sorry I went to pieces.” She made herself comfortable on the couch with two pillows propped against the end. “Margo’s death tonight struck me as being particularly horrible,” she explained quietly, “because she was happier than she’s been since I’ve known her. I think you did that for her. Just the couple of drinks she had with you this afternoon. Don’t get me wrong,” she went on, “I don’t mean she was in love with you. It wasn’t anything silly, but it was what she had looked for here in the Quarter. She’s had a couple of cheap substitutes,” Lucile ended with a grimace, “and she was sure you were going to be different.”
Shayne asked, “What time did you leave Margo?”
“About ten o’clock. We’d had such a perfect evening until Henri came. Margo was bubbling over about you, and Evalyn was so happy — I suppose because she thought Henri would be coming back to her. It was like things used to be — before Henri and Margo met.”
“Who,” asked Shayne, “is Henri?”
“Henri Desmond. Why—” A thoughtful light came into her eyes and she drew her breath in sharply. “Don’t the police know about him?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but I’d be delighted to get hold of another suspect,” Shayne said.
“Henri could have done it,” she said doubtfully.
“Where does this Henri live?”
“Why, I don’t know, but I’m sure Evalyn does. I’ll call her.” She started to get up.
Shayne stopped her. “Wait,” he said. “Let’s get this straight first. You say Henri came to Margo’s apartment? What time was that?”
“Just a few minutes before ten. I remember because the phone had rung about nine forty-five. Margo talked to someone — you, I guess, and told us she had a date at ten-fifteen and we’d have to leave.” She laughed, her eyes bright with remembering, and said, “I scolded Margo about having an assignation with a redheaded stranger at that hour. Though I was glad for her,” she went on earnestly. “I’ve often told her that she needed to have an affair. A real one — and decent, of course. I honestly believe she was a virgin,” she ended pensively.
“Let’s get back to tonight,” Shayne said firmly. “Margo received a phone call at nine forty-five, you say? She didn’t tell you from whom, but intimated some man was coming in thirty minutes. Is that straight?”
“She didn’t actually say it was you who called. But she had been talking so much about you all evening, and she didn’t say it wasn’t. So I just supposed it was you.”
“And then Henri came?”
“Yes. It must have been about ten. Margo was terribly flustered when he knocked. I’m sure she thought it was you — ahead of time. She looked daggers at us for still being there when she went to the door. But it was only Henri.” Lucile sighed.
“What happened?”
“She didn’t ask Henri in. She talked to him in the hall, but the door was open a crack and Evalyn and I could hear them. She told him he’d have to go because she had this date with you, and he got awfully mad. He threatened her. He said he wouldn’t stand for any other man hanging around her.” She paused, then added thoughtfully, “I think it was only his pride — I’m sure he didn’t love Margo.”
“Then Henri went away?” Shayne probed.
“Yes. Evalyn was crying when Margo came back. She had heard it all, you see. Of course she knew about Henri and Margo, but I rather think she had pretended to herself that it wasn’t really serious. Then when she heard him talking like that—”
“Did Henri know Evalyn was there?” Shayne interrupted.
“No. I’m positive he didn’t or he wouldn’t have said what he did to Margo. You see, Evalyn has been supporting him for months, giving him money and letting him spend part of the time in her apartment. He wanted to hang on to Evalyn and try to have an affair with Margo.”
“Go ahead,” Shayne said patiently. “What happened then?”
“Henri’s coming spoiled our party. It was rather messy with Evalyn crying and all, so I came home.”
“And left Evalyn there — with Margo?”
“Yes. Margo was trying to convince her that there had never been anything serious between her and Henri and that everything was over. I thought they’d get things fixed up if I left them together.”
“Perhaps Margo and Evalyn quarreled after you left. Maybe Evalyn murdered her.”
Shayne watched her keenly, but her eyes were candid when she said hastily, “Oh, no! Evalyn wouldn’t — well, not when she’s—” She paused, and her face was troubled. Then she laughed lightly and said, “Not Evalyn.”
“You started to say something else,” Shayne said. “Not when she’s — what?”
Lucile studied his face for a moment, then asked abruptly, “Are you a detective?”
“I am right now, until I find out who killed Margo.”
“Well, you don’t need to be so grim about it,” she replied irritatedly. She sat up a little straighter and rearranged the pillows. “I suppose it’ll all come out anyway, especially if Henri becomes involved, so it doesn’t matter if I tell you. And it might help you a little. Evalyn takes things sometimes — you know, for her nerves. She gets terribly depressed.”
“What sort of things?”
“Some kind of drug. Henri gets it for her. I think that’s why she hangs on to him.”
“You think Evalyn might be capable of murder while under the influence of drugs,” Shayne summed up slowly.
Lucile made a slight gesture of dismissal with her hands and said, “Do any of us really know what we are capable of?”
Shayne took the hint and said nothing more about Evalyn. He asked, “How well did you know Margo?”
“Quite well. That is, we saw each other a couple of times a week. I suppose,” she went on slowly, “I was her best friend here in the Quarter. Neither of us make friends easily, and I think that’s why we were attracted to each other.”