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After a moment of shocked silence, Rourke whirled to face his old friend and said, “Then your story about getting shot was a phony?”

“No, there was nothing phony about that,” Shayne told him grimly. “But we know now that there is some guy, representing himself as Michael Shayne right here in Miami, impersonating me! It’s dollars to doughnuts he flew up to Wilmington for the express purpose of removing the files on Bates’s correspondence with him from Bates’s office.”

“Then he must be the man who threw the blanket over my head in Mrs. Carrol’s hotel room last night,” Lucy said excitedly.

“Probably,” Shayne interrupted her. “We can assume he was there searching for the same letter I hoped you’d find. Picking up the pieces and destroying all the evidence after he learned that Carrol was dead and there would be an investigation that would surely point to him as an impersonator, if nothing else.”

“But you just got through proving to Will Gentry that such a thing was physically impossible,” Rourke protested.

“I only pointed out how improbable it was,” Shayne told him moodily. “But this seems to eliminate the theory that Bates was lying. Wasn’t it Sherlock Holmes who said that after you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth, no matter how improbable?”

Rourke shook his head dubiously. “That’s a pretty important item of information to hold out on Gentry.”

“What the hell else could I do?” Shayne demanded angrily. “You saw how Will’s mind was working. With that to clinch it, he couldn’t have done anything else except arrest me. This is one time I can’t afford the luxury of going to jail. I’ve got a few hours, maybe, to find out who murdered Carrol, who left me lying for dead in my car this morning, and who is parading around as Mike Shayne.”

Gloom settled over Rourke’s cadaverous features. “That’s a fair-sized order. It appears no one has actually seen the guy. There are supposed to be those letters from him directing that payment be made in cash, but now they’ve disappeared. Where do you start?”

“With Ralph Carrol’s murder.” Shayne’s voice was abruptly vigorous and decisive. “In the end, everything must come back to that. You know anybody in Wilmington who can give me a hand getting the inside dope if I fly up there?”

The reporter thought for a moment, then said, “There’s Ed Smith on AP. He’s run their desk there for years. Want me to call him?”

“Sure.” The telephone rang as he spoke. He gestured to Lucy to take the call, saying, “Get rid of whoever it is. I think you’d better come with me, angel. Call the airport about planes, but don’t use my name for a reservation.”

Lucy drew her chair nearer the desk, picked up the receiver, and said sweetly, “Mr. Shayne’s office.”

“You stay here, Tim,” Shayne said to the reporter. “Keep an eye on things and dig everything you can out of Will.”

He turned as Lucy said into the mouthpiece, “Hold on a moment, Mr. Margrave. I think Mr. Shayne will be most interested.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Would you be interested in investigating the murder of Ralph Carrol? A Mr. Margrave is very anxious to retain you in that capacity.”

She covered the mouthpiece with her palm when Shayne said, “Frankly, this is one time I can be had, and I won’t argue about the size of the retainer.”

He took the phone and said, “Mike Shayne speaking.”

Chapter nine

Shayne listened attentively for a while, then said, “I understand perfectly, Mr. Margrave, and I’m glad to say I’m free to go right to work on it. I’ll want all the information you can give me about Carrol the first thing.”

He paused again to listen, and said, “The Roney Plaza. In about half an hour. It will be a pleasure.”

He hung up and grinned exultantly at Lucy and Tim Rourke. “Looks like I won’t need that plane reservation to Wilmington, for a time at least. Mr. Margrave is Ralph Carrol’s business partner. He happens to be vacationing on the Beach, and he’s quite displeased with the way the local police are investigating Carrol’s death.”

The lanky reporter’s brows were drawn together in a frown of concentration. “Margrave,” he muttered to himself, then suddenly jerked himself erect. “Wait a minute. I get it now. There was an interview with him in the Herald a few days ago. A blast at Big Business and the pernicious methods they use to run small competitors out of the picture. I think his firm faces a huge lawsuit brought against them for alleged stealing of patents or some such.”

Shayne thought for a moment before saying, “This gives me a basis of operation, anyway. A starting-point.”

“Does Margrave know you have a personal reason for taking the case?” Rourke asked.

“I don’t believe so. That’s something I haven’t thought through. How many people in this affair are contacting me in the belief that I’m the other one, the pseudo Mike Shayne, who was handling the job for Carrol? How about that, Tim? Has my name been mentioned publicly in connection with Carrol? I didn’t read the paper beyond the story of Lucy’s arrest.”

“I don’t think your name was mentioned in the Herald story about Carrol. There was just a short item about him.”

“Then it couldn’t possibly have been on the early newscast.” He paused, fingers drumming on the desk and his eyes thoughtful. “The two phone calls, they had to come from people who knew Mike Shayne was supposed to be smuggling Mrs. Carrol into her husband’s room. Have you heard the name of Ludlow mentioned in connection with Carrol?”

Rourke shook his head.

“Who’s he?”

Shayne related details of the first call he had received just as Mrs. Carrol and Gentry were leaving. “The man who called in the anonymous tip on Carrol, evidently. Beyond that I haven’t the faintest idea who Ludlow is or how he came to discover Carrol’s body.” He sprang up, and the swift movement brought a sharp throb to his injury. He touched the swollen area gingerly. “Does your car happen to be around close, Tim?”

“Right out front in the No-Parking zone.”

“How about loaning it to me for a run over to the Beach? If I pull mine out of the parking-lot before Gentry has gone over it, he’ll be sore and accuse me of hiding something.”

“He was going to send a man over to examine your head, too,” Lucy said anxiously. “Shouldn’t you wait here for that and let the doctor put something on it?”

“I really would need to have my head examined, if I hung around for that, instead of getting over to find out what Margrave knows. Where are your keys, Tim?”

Rourke came to his feet and suggested, “I’ll drive you over. I’ll hang around the Roney lobby while you see Margrave, and then brace him. He’ll be the lead for my story.”

Half an hour later the redhead and the reporter entered the luxurious lobby of the Roney Plaza Hotel. Rourke handed his car keys to Shayne as they crossed to the bank of elevators. “Go ahead and use my car, when you’re through with Margrave,” he suggested. “You may have a lot of places to get to. I’ll hop a taxi back to the office.”

Shayne pocketed the keys. “I’ll try to set it up for you when I leave.”

“I’ll be right here when you come down.” Rourke lifted a thin hand in farewell as the detective entered an elevator and went up, then he sauntered to a chair facing the elevators.