With a far-away look in his gray eyes, Shayne said, “No, I wouldn’t know about that. Put a call through to the warden of the state penitentiary. While you’re waiting for it look in the directory and see if you can find a man by the name of Lane listed under private detectives. Alex Lane,” he added after a moment’s thought.
She typed the instructions as he gave them, looked up at the knot on his head and said, “Before I do anything you’re going to tell me what happened to you. Why do you always forget to duck?”
Shayne said gravely, “I made a pass at the wrong girl.”
“No girl did that to you.”
“Her boy friend came in at the wrong time.” He got up from the desk and said, “Shake it up on those calls,” and went into the inner office.
He was somberly contemplating the bare clean walls, when Lucy came in and perched herself on the corner of his desk. “Your call to the warden is in,” she said, “but the operator said the lines were all busy and it would be at least an hour before they’d be ready on it. And there’s a Lane and McGregor Detective Agency listed. Will that be the one?”
“Might be. Gabby Lane was on his own when I knew him. Try them.”
Lucy referred to a number on a paper in her hand, pulled his desk phone toward her and dialed. She said, “One moment, please,” and handed the receiver to Shayne.
He asked, “Is Alex Lane connected with your firm?”
A girl said, “Yes. I’ll put him on.”
Shayne waited until a heavy voice said, “Yeah?”
He grinned at Lucy and said, “Gabby?” into the mouthpiece.
He got a “Yep” this time.
“This is Mike Shayne, Gabby, and I wish you wouldn’t be so damned garrulous.”
Gabby Lane said, “What’s that mean? Read about you this morning. Trouble, huh?”
“Plenty,” Shayne told him. “I need some help from a man who’s kept up his contacts here.”
Gabby Lane didn’t say anything.
“On your regular basis,” Shayne told him impatiently. “I’ll pay the bill.”
“Twenty-five and expenses for an op?”
“I don’t want any damned op,” Shayne shouted. “I want you.”
“Fifty. Part days count full rate.”
Shayne said, “That Scotch partner of yours has got you trained. Fifty’s all right. Can you come to my office in about an hour?”
“See you,” said Gabby, and hung up.
“Some day,” Shayne told Lucy, “Gabby is going to choke himself trying to find one word that’ll do the job of two.”
Lucy was excited. “What’s the rush about, Michael? Is it the necklace?”
He nodded absently.
“What about Trueman’s murder? Did you threaten him last night over gambling-or something?”
“Don’t ever read the papers,” he advised slowly. “I didn’t kill Trueman and Quinlan knows I didn’t. I just came from his office.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she breathed. “When I saw you come in looking all beaten up-all I could think of was the newspaper story.”
He touched his bruised and swollen head and asked, “How does it look? Feels like the lump’s getting smaller.”
Lucy chuckled and cocked her head sideways, “Looks as if you were trying to grow another head-or a blunt horn.” She leaned toward him and ran the tip of her finger over a portion of his face and added, “There’re three purplish streaks on your face.”
“I must have fallen on my face when the guy bopped me. It’s nothing.”
“Why do you always have to get so rough solving a case?” she asked, annoyed. “Isn’t there some other way?”
Shayne chortled. “Not that I’ve learned. Some people do it by sitting around and adding up the answers, but I’m not smart that way.” He patted her hand and added in a lighter tone, “Don’t worry about me, Lucy. Lots of jobs nowadays and you can always get another one.”
Lucy swung from the desk. “I hate you,” she said succinctly, “and I hope the girl’s boy friend has a gun next time he comes in unexpectedly.”
Shayne grinned at her stiff straight back as she walked out and slammed the door. He went to the window and stared out for a long moment, then turned abruptly and strode out to Lucy’s desk.
“Call up the Dragoon Hotel and get Drinkley on the phone,” he directed. “When he answers make your voice husky and talk fast. Tell him it’s Lana and to come to your apartment quick. The back way-same as he used last night. Hang up as soon as you’ve told him that.”
“Lana? Who’s she?” Her brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you up to now?”
“I’m going to check on a hunch and have a showdown with Drinkley. Go ahead and make that call.” Shayne put his coat over his arm and picked up his hat.
Lucy was mumbling some words. She wrinkled her nose and rehearsed aloud, looking at Shayne for approval before dialing.
“That’s it-and call him Ted,” Shayne said, standing on widespread legs while he waited.
When she finished the call her hand shook when she replaced the receiver, and her face was pale. “I-did it-”
“Swell job,” Shayne said. “I’ll get you a Hollywood contract. If Gabby Lane comes have him wait here for me.”
“All right… But I still don’t believe-”
Shayne didn’t wait to hear what she didn’t believe. He went down to his car, drove to the Armentieres Apartments and parked near the alley at a point where he could watch the outside stairway leading up to the rear entrance of Lana’s fourth-floor apartment.
He sat hunched behind the wheel dragging on a cigarette while he waited. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe it hadn’t been Drinkley who had socked him last night. His head ached with a steady, dull pain, and he was tired of too much thinking.
He threw the cigarette away when he saw a figure coming furtively down the alley wearing a khaki overcoat and a cap pulled low down over his forehead. The figure went hurriedly up the stairs and stopped at the fourth floor.
Shayne waited until he went in the door, then followed. The door leading from the balcony into the bedroom was open and he stepped inside to hear angry voices in the front room.
“I didn’t telephone you,” Lana was declaring vehemently. “You’re acting crazy, Ted. I covered up for you this morning-”
“That’s right-and in a big way,” Shayne said pleasantly, strolling forward to stand in the doorway.
Lieutenant Drinkley let go of Lana’s wrists and whirled to face him. His thin face was pinched and white and his eyes were hot with fear. He took a wavering step backward and muttered, “Shayne.”
Shayne said, “Don’t blame Lana for this. She even committed a neat bit of perjury this morning to keep you in the clear.” To Lana he said, “Sit down. We’ll all talk this over.”
Lana tossed her head angrily. “Nothing would suit me better.” She pushed a chair close to the couch and sat down.
Shayne sat on the couch and Drinkley brought a light occasional chair and placed it to form a semicircle.
“You’re both in this pretty deep,” Shayne warned them. “It wasn’t smart to bop me last night, Drinkley. What were you afraid I was going to learn?”
Drinkley’s hands trembled and he bit his bloodless bottom lip. “I didn’t-I don’t know-what you mean,” he stammered.
Shayne said mildly, “I don’t mind the beating so much, but I hate being framed for murder. That’s what your perjured denial of my alibi did this morning, Lana.”
Lana gave Drinkley a quick calculating glance, shook her tawny head from side to side and said, “If you mean that crazy story you dreamed up about getting attacked here, you’re nuts.”
Shayne touched his injury lightly. “For a dream, it hurts like hell.” He shrugged and said, “All right. This is off the record. I talked myself out of the murder frame for the time being. Now I want to get some things straight.”