The old man sprang to his feet and swung back a gnarled fist to strike the jeering face, but Shayne got between them, shaking his red head.
Quinlan ordered Jordan taken out, and advised Lomax in a kindly tone, “You’d better go home and think things over. I don’t know what the charges will be against you or your wife, but I’ll do the best I can for you.”
His buzzer sounded just as Nathan Lomax went out the door, thanking him in a shaky voice. He opened the connection and listened, then turned to Shayne and announced, “Looks like you’ve pulled another one out of the hat. That was a report from Craigville. They grabbed Anton Moe off the train. He admits escaping from the pen under the name of Hodge and that his sister Katrin gave him the ticket home. Now how in the hell did you figure that?”
“I added up some things,” Shayne said wearily. “Such as the price of a railroad ticket plus ten per cent tax, and it came out Craigville-which is where Katrin and her brother Anton once lived, according to the dope on her citizenship papers.”
He tugged his hat down over his eyes and moved toward the door. “That’s about everything-except the little matter of a twelve and a half grand fee. And I suppose the insurance company will try to hold out on a technicality after they learn the stolen necklace was synthetic.”
“That’ll be tough,” said Quinlan sympathetically, “after all the work you’ve done.”
Shayne said, “Don’t worry too much about it. I have a little document in my pocket that even an insurance company will have a hard time wiggling out of.”
Back at his office, Lucy greeted Shayne with a worried look and the announcement: “Lieutenant Drinkley called a few minutes ago. He’s suddenly decided to leave town and he wondered if you’d made any progress.”
Shayne said, “He can read about it in tonight’s paper.” Lucy looked up with eager surprise, and he nodded with a wide grin. “It’s ended. Wrapped up and put to bed.”
She said impulsively, “I’m so glad, Michael. I’ve been worried.”
“You needn’t waste any more sympathy over Neal Jordan being framed,” he told her. “He confessed both murders fifteen minutes ago.”
She bit her underlip and looked away from him. Then she stood up slowly and lifted her wrist to him. It was still red where he had twisted it that afternoon to bring her back from the edge of hysterics.
In an oddly tight tone, she said, “Kiss it and it’ll be well.”
Shayne bent his head and kissed the mark on her wrist with lingering tenderness. She was laughing when she drew back from him, and her brown eyes were starry.
“I’m still wondering about the Norwegians-the married virgins and all.”
Shayne shook his head and grinned. “It ain’t so. Not even Norwegians, I guess. Katrin’s brother was in the penitentiary under an alias and the only way she could get in to see him was to pretend a relationship that would fit his alias. So she called herself Mrs. Hodge when she visited him, and bought a wedding ring which she put on every Wednesday afternoon to strengthen the pretense.”
Lucy said, “You’ve still got a thousand things to tell me. Who stole the necklace, and-”
Shayne put a big hand firmly over her mouth. “To explain everything thoroughly I’ll have to relax with about six fingers of cognac in a washtub. Let’s close up the office for the day and-”
“Relax,” she finished for him, twisting away. “All right. Let’s. I know just the place. There’s even a bottle of cognac left in my apartment from the last time you were there.”
Shayne asked wryly, “Sure you haven’t any boy friends likely to slip in from the fire escape with a blunt instrument in their hands and lethal intent in their hearts?”
“No boy friends,” Lucy promised him gaily.
He said, “What are we waiting for then?”
She linked her arm in his and they went out of the office together.