“Hi, angel.”
“What’s up?” she asked. “Nothing important’s happened while you’ve been gone. A quiet day for a change.”
Shayne gave her the number of the Raymond house for emergency use and briefly outlined what he was up to. Lucy listened patiently.
“Do you think the old man knows what he’s talking about?” Lucy asked when he had concluded.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, he’s a likeable fellow so I’ll stick around for dinner and see what happens. He may be dreaming things up but I think I can find that out soon enough. And Lucy — there’s something I’d like to have you do for me!”
“Yes?”
“Call City Hall in Macon, Georgia and find out if they have a record of a marriage between Tod Bascom and Effie Raymond. That’s B-A-S-C-O-M. Call me here as soon as you get the dope.”
“Right, Michael — wait a minute. Effie can’t be a proper name.”
“I’m not worrying about her, angel. I’m mostly interested in Tod Bascom.”
Lucy Hamilton sighed and hung up.
Shayne went back to the living room. The old man and Tod Bascom were having a drink. A chrome decanter and glasses gleamed on an end table. Raymond waved Shayne to help himself, winking again.
“Help yourself, Mike. Twenty year old port. You look like a port man.”
Tod Bascom chuckled. “Mr. Shayne looks like he can drink anything, Grandpa.”
Shayne tilted his glass. “I consider that a compliment.”
Hat Raymond swallowed his drink, his eyes glowing.
“In my day, a man wasn’t a man unless he could down a gallon of cider without stopping. The Seminoles had a brand of firewater like to make your ears turn like spigots—” He rambled on, with gestures and eye-popping enthusiasm.
Shayne listened attentively, his eyes studying Tod Bascom. The man was a hard nut to crack. He seemed distant and aloof yet his face wore the right expression of interest though Shayne would have bet money that he wasn’t listening too carefully either. A man to watch, Shayne told himself.
At the height of the old man’s rambling, there was a crash of noise from the kitchen — a shattering of glass. Tod’s face broke apart with concern and he started for the door. Effie came to the entranceway, looking chagrined. The entire front of her skirt was dripping with water.
“What the devil!” Hat Raymond swung his stiff leg and stood erect.
“Sorry,” Effie said. “Stupid of me. Spilled a pitcher of ice water. I thought you might want something cool so I was making some lemonade for dinner. I’ll have to run upstairs and change my dress. Mr. Shayne, would you excuse me? Tod, would you come up with me? I can never manage that zipper on the dress I want to change into.”
“Quite all right,” Shayne said.
The old man mumbled under his breath and watched his granddaughter and her husband go up the stairway to the next level.
“Women,” Hat Raymond said. “Always mooning — always making mistakes.”
“Could be,” Shayne said, his eyes narrowing. “Now how about you showing me around this place. Might see a few things before they come on down.”
Hat Raymond slapped his good leg. “You’re right, Shayne. Come on. I’ve got a few knick-knacks I’ll bet you never saw the like of in Florida before. Been buying for many years some fine stuff from the dealers.”
Before they walked off to the other rooms, Shayne could hear water roar somewhere overhead. Somebody was obviously taking a shower. Effie Bascom, probably, before she changed into a fresh outfit.
There was no doubt that it was also a fine way to make certain that nothing they might be talking about could be overheard. As modern as the ranch style house seemed to be, the cascade of the steaming water filled the rooms with muted thunder.
IV
Hat Raymond asked, in a cozy den room, “Well, Mike, what do you think?”
Shayne made knobs of his hands. “I’m not sure. We could wait around for days before they made a move, and they’d get suspicious if I stayed too long. I haven’t got the time, either. But I have an idea. I’m going to try an experiment — with your help.”
The old man’s eyes glowed. “Such as?”
“I’m inclined to believe with you that your relatives are at the bottom of your troubles. But, frankly, they’re just a couple of rank amateurs and if we want to flush them out into the open, there is only one way to do it. We’ll play a little game, to force their hand. It’s the best way I know to bring matters to a head quickly. And I’m sure it’ll be all over by tomorrow. I don’t want to risk your neck either.”
Hat Raymond nodded. “Better right than sorry, Shayne. I want to make my mind clear about Tod. He’s no good for Effie. What do we do?”
“Just this,” Shayne said. “I’ll start talking at dinner or sometime later and whatever I say, you follow my lead. Get that?”
“I think I get you. You’re going to fake some kind of a real estate deal between the two of us to make them think they’re losing out. Is that it?”
“Yes,” Shayne said.
When Effie came into the den about fifteen minutes later, she found her grandfather and Mike Shayne engrossed in a survey of some Indian arrowheads.
“Gentlemen,” she said pleasantly, “dinner is served.”
Dinner consisted of turtle steak, boiled potatoes and a cream pie that was out of this world. Whatever else she might turn out to be, Effie Bascom was a superb cook. Shayne ate with relish. Hat Raymond, in spite of his troubles, had a hearty appetite. For all his years, he ate like a waterfront longshoreman. Tod Bascom ate delicately.
Effie had slipped on a green frock for dinner. She looked pretty, prim and every inch the granddaughter of an old timer like Hat Raymond.
“Some food, eh, Shayne?” Hat Raymond chortled.
“A feast,” the redhead agreed, keeping a close eye on the Bascoms. But nothing suspicious passed between them. Not by word or glance. Tod was politely listening to everything the old man said and deferring to Shayne in the conversation.
Effie smiled. “More pie, Mr. Shayne?”
“Please, no. I’m chock full of good food as it is, Effie.” The redhead leaned back in his chair.
Hat Raymond looked pleased. “Effie’s a fine housekeeper, Shayne.”
Just after dessert, the phone rang in the living room. Prim Effie Bascom answered it, nodding. “It’s for you, Mr. Shayne. It’s a Miss Hamilton!”
He took the call and turned his back on the dinner table. “Hello, Lucy,” he said. “Did that package arrive from my aunt?”
“Yes, Michael,” Lucy said crisply. “Tod Bascom was married in Macon, Georgia, to a Miss Effrella Raymond.”
“Fine, fine,” Shayne said. “When did the package come?”
“Just one week ago to be exact. That help you, Michael?”
“Yes. Thanks. I’ll pick it up when I get there. Say about ten o’clock tonight. You go on home, Lucy.”
“Michael, you’re sure everything is all right?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He hung up and returned to the table smiling.
“That’s a relief,” he said. “I’ve been trying to buy a special vase for my aunt. Miss Hamilton, my secretary, finally found the right piece. My aunt will be pleasantly surprised.”
Effie smiled. “I like vases too. They’re so graceful.”
“You should,” Shayne said offhandedly, tackling the dessert. “New bride like you.”
“Not new as all that,” she said. “It’s been six months now.”