“I forgot you didn’t know about my visit with her. On account of her son, Cecil.” Shayne spoke the name with distaste, using a short “e.” “That’s how Fritz Harlan got mixed up in the deal.”
Two sidecars were set in front of them and Lucy took a sip of hers before saying, “I didn’t understand that very well when Mr. Lincoln tried to explain it over the phone. Did he take a picture of them?”
“He hired George Bayliss to. But he recognized Dr. Ambrose at once, and because he had been a participant in the old scandal that was behind the blackmail, he got frightened and went into hiding instead of turning the picture over to Cecil.” This time he pronounced the name with a long “e.”
“Mrs. Montgomery was afraid he had killed the doctor and might implicate Cecil,” Shayne added, lifting his glass and drinking deeply.
“Like me to take a picture of you and the pretty girl, Mister?” a wheedling voice asked beside him, and Shayne turned to see one of the strolling photographers, who infest Miami during the tourist season.
He grinned widely and said, “This is where I came in last night. Sure, take a picture. We’ll send it to her husband back home for a souvenir.”