Rourke was waiting to talk to Shayne. When the reporter drove off to turn in his story, Shayne went out to the parking lot to pick up his Buick. He was oddly restless. He drove into town, found his radio-telephone and antenna on the floor of Adele’s Chevrolet, and reinstalled them in their usual place.
Checking the connection, he was surprised to get his usual daytime operator.
“Are you still working?”
“Overtime,” she said. “I just listened to the news, Mr. Shayne, and you were magnificent! I think I helped a little, didn’t I?”
“The phone service was very good, as usual. You’ll be hungry when you go off. Would you be interested in a couple of drinks and dinner?”
There was a brief pause.
“You don’t even know my name. What if I’m fat and bowlegged?”
“Are you?”
“Well, no, but if the supervisor ever found out-On the other hand, she’s away for the weekend, isn’t she, and if you’re really serious-”
“Damn right I’m serious. I’d like to talk to somebody normal for a change.”
She hesitated. “I wouldn’t say I was all that normal.”
Shayne laughed. “Where do I meet you?”