“I was sure there was something wrong by that time. He acted more like a gangster than a detective. As soon as he left, I jumped out and ran up the street. I found a cruising taxi about half a block away and I came straight here. I’ve been waiting for you to come-hiding around the corner and watching your door.” She looked at Shayne with wide-open eyes as she ended. “Had you sent him to get me?”
Shayne shook his head. Her story sounded straight enough, and it tied in with Phyllis’s note. He asked, “You didn’t see who was in the cab behind you-nor what happened when your driver went back?”
“No. I didn’t look back. I was terrified. I don’t know why exactly, but there was something sinister about that man.” She shuddered. “Was he working for you?”
Shayne said, “Describe him.”
She described Leroy. Not too exactly, but with enough detail so that there could be no mistake.
Shayne rubbed his uninjured jaw thoughtfully. Helen waited for him to speak. After a moment he asked, “What about Gorstmann?”
Her look of bewilderment was good enough to convince Shayne that she had never heard the name before. “Who?”
He shrugged irritably. “Never mind.”
He got up and began prowling up and down the room. The girl sat relaxed, not looking at him. The bottom of her tight skirt had crawled above her knees and she didn’t seem to know or care.
She emptied her glass, and Shayne refilled it silently. Tonight, he noted, she wasn’t making any fuss about downing the hundred-proof cognac without a chaser.
He stopped near her chair and studied her for a moment, then asked, “Why did you come here tonight?”
She rounded her eyes at him. “To find out whether you had sent for me-and to get you to protect me from Mace.”
“I didn’t send for you.”
“But you knew about me being at the Danube,” she countered, puzzled.
“It’s my job to know things. Have you seen Morgan this evening?”
“No.” Helen shuddered. “When I read about Mr. Lacy being killed I was afraid to go back to my apartment.”
“What makes you so sure Mace Morgan killed Lacy? The police tried to hang it on me in the papers.”
“But I knew it couldn’t have been you.” She looked at him with wide, guileless eyes. “I was right here when it was happening.” She paused, puzzled again. “He died in your office, the papers said. But they gave this same address. I suppose they got your office address mixed up with your apartment.”
Shayne said, “The papers are always getting things mixed up.” He did not explain that he used an apartment on the floor below as an office.
“The papers made it sound as though maybe you needed an alibi for this afternoon,” she said eagerly and hastily. “I will swear where you were if it’s necessary.”
Shayne thought that her eyes challenged him. He said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” He then demanded, “How do you know Lacy’s death had anything to do with you and Mace? Lacy was working on something else.”
“I don’t know what made me feel so certain,” she confessed. “Because I’d just been here talking to you about it, I suppose.”
“Because you had a guilty conscience and couldn’t see any other possibility,” Shayne snorted. He moved away restlessly. “It seems to me that this washes us up.”
“What-do you mean?”
He turned, gesturing widely. “Just what I said. If your husband is hep to your plan for getting him quietly bumped off, you’d better drop it.”
“Please, Mr. Shayne.” Helen’s face became chalky. “You’re not going to desert me?” She stood up, trembling.
“Count me out.”
“But you can’t,” she whimpered. “Don’t you see? I have no one else to rely on. It’s a thousand times more important now than it was this afternoon. If Mace does know-”
“Then you’re in a tough spot.”
“He’ll kill me. Without mercy. Just as he killed Jim Lacy.” She moved upon him, staggering as she approached. Shayne put out his arm, and she collapsed against him. She pressed her face against his chest and sobbed, “You’re the only one who can help me. He’ll kill me unless-”
“Unless I kill him first.” Shayne’s voice was harsh.
Her supple body quivered while one arm crept up about his shoulders. She lifted her head, crushed her breasts against him, and her eyes were hot with something more than mortal terror.
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s it. You’ve got to kill him first You can’t stand by and let me be murdered. You know you can’t.”
Sweat beaded Shayne’s face. “Why can’t I?”
She tilted her head back. Her eyes were tightly shut. She strained her mouth upward to his. Her lips were parted, full and moist. She murmured, “You can’t, because you’re a man-and I’m a woman. Because you’re you and I am me. You’ll help me. I know you will.”
“Kill your husband for you?” Shayne asked implacably.
Her lashes fluttered up and her humid eyes held his. “It sounds terrible when you say it like that. But-yes. Yes. It’s the only thing that will save me now.”
Shayne’s jaw was set. The beads of sweat ran together, trickled down. A muscle twitched in each lean cheek. He obdurately kept his arms at his sides. “Why should I save you?” he asked hoarsely.
She clung to him tighter. Her eyes were not quite the same. “You know why,” she whispered. “You knew this afternoon. As soon as we saw each other-we both knew it would be like this with us.” Her breath came and went in little whimpering gasps. She nuzzled her wet mouth up to his lips. Both arms were around his neck, straining to drag his head down to bring their lips together.
The telephone rang loudly in the bedroom.
Shayne put two big hands on her shoulders and shoved her from him. She swayed back and dropped listlessly into a chair.
Shayne strode to the telephone, snatched up the receiver, and said, “Shayne talking.”
The eagerness went away from his lined and swollen face when a hearty voice rumbled, “Will Gentry, Mike. And this time you’ve got yourself in deeper than I can get you out.”
“What cooks, Will?”
“You’ll soon be, in a vat of oil-unless you can think of a lot of answers fast. There’s an FBI in my office.”
“Pearson?”
“Right. He’s got a lump on the side of his jaw and a yen to meet the guy who put it there.”
Shayne said, “Listen, Will-”
“You do the listening. For God’s sake, Mike, you can’t push Washington around. They’ll bury you under the Atlanta prison all wrapped up in red tape.”
“All right,” Shayne sighed. “What does he want-an apology?”
“I don’t think he’s interested in apologies. He wants to talk to you about Jim Lacy.”
Shayne said, “Why not? I’d like to hear what he’s got to say, too.”
“That’s fine.” Gentry sounded relieved. “We’ll be right over.”
Shayne said, “Hold it, Will. Can’t you stall him for a little while?”
“Why should I? You’ve got to come clean sooner or later.”
“All I want is a few minutes. Time enough to get rid of a caller before you get here. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll try. But no more than that. You can’t play hide the button with these guys.”
Shayne said, “Thanks, Will. Fifteen minutes.”
He cradled the phone and swung into the living-room. His eyes were hard and bright. He said, “Get up,” to the girl slumped in the chair.
Helen got up slowly. Her shoulders drooped and she avoided his gaze. She had put all of herself into her passionate appeal for his help and she knew she had lost.
“We’re having company,” Shayne said swiftly. “The law is coming up. Get in the bedroom and stay out of sight. Under the bed or in the closet. We’ll finish our talk after I get rid of my visitors. I’ve got a hunch I’ll have a lot of questions to ask you after I’ve talked to them.”
He stood aside for her to enter the bedroom, his face hard and inscrutable. She hesitated as she went past him, half turned, and parted her lips to speak.