“Wonderful. About three eggs for me, Lucy.”
“All right, you two.” She got up with an air of offended dignity which did not fool either of them. She took Shayne’s empty mug and headed for the kitchen with her firm chin uptilted. “Keep your secrets and see if I care.”
While she was refilling Shayne’s mug, Rourke asked him suddenly, “When did you first catch on, Mike?”
“When I saw her IOU and recognized the handwriting as the same as the note she’d given me signed Vicky.”
Lucy Hamilton came back with another mug of coffee for him, and he caught her hand and detained her as she set it down.
“How’d you like to go to a wedding, Lucy?”
“What on earth are you talking about now?”
“A big social affair on the Beach this afternoon.
Maybe you read about it in the society section a couple of days ago. A girl named Vicky Andrews who is marrying a state senator. Her mother is a Hollywood script writer.”
“What are you getting at, Michael? It happens I did read about it, but how on earth do you think we can get an invitation?”
“Want to bet?” he asked her confidently.
“No. Not when I see that gleam in your eye.”
“Call the Encanto Hotel,” he suggested, “and ask for Miss Andrews. I’ll take it from there.”
She hesitated, not knowing whether to take him seriously or not, and then released her hand from his and went to the telephone stand where she looked up the telephone number. Timothy Rourke sat there finishing his drink and looking mystified while Lucy dialled the hotel number and said crisply, “Miss Andrews, please.”
She turned and held the receiver out to Shayne, “They’re ringing her.”
He went across the room and took it from her. He heard a young girl’s voice say, “Hello? Yes?”
“Is that Vicky?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” she caroled. “Who is this?”
“Could I speak to your mother, Vicky?”
“Sure. Hey, Mom! It’s for you.” Shayne waited until an older, more resonant voice came over the wire: “Yes?”
“Is that Carla Andrews?”
“Why… yes.” The voice sounded doubtful. “Who is this?”
“I’m Michael Shayne, Miss Andrews. Brett Halliday has told me…”
“Michael Shayne?” The voice was charged with surprise and happy recognition. “My Gawd! Now my visit to Miami is complete. When I was flying in yesterday, I thought about trying to call you. I’m so happy you did.”
Shayne said, “I want to ask you one question, Miss Andrews. This may come as a surprise, but think about it for a moment. Do you know… have you ever known… an actress named Vergie Powers?” Evidently Carla Andrews didn’t have to think very long. “Vergie? Sure. I haven’t heard from her for years. But she played some bit parts in a few of your television shows while I was writing some of the scripts. What’s with Vergie? She was a pretty good actress…”
“She’s one hell of an actress still,” Shayne told her. “It’s a long story, Carla, which I think you’ll enjoy hearing. In the meantime… how difficult is it to get invited to Vicky’s wedding this afternoon?”
“Michael… Shayne?” Carla’s voice was laughingly affectionate. “We’d be honored. Vicky will be delighted. Do you mean to say you really want to come?”
“My secretary would love to.”
“How absolutely wonderful, Mike! Lucy Hamilton! My Gawd! The lines of asinine dialogue I’ve put into her mouth. Of course, you must both come. I’ll apologize to both of you for those lousy scripts the producer made me write.”
Laughing, Shayne told her, “We’ll be there, Carla. Until this afternoon.”
He hung up and turned to tell Lucy, “I hope to God you’ve got something appropriate to wear to a very fancy wedding.”