He had been sitting like that for a few minutes when he straightened in his chair with a tingle in his spine as he saw a lone late-comer being ushered through the archway by the maid.
It was Hilda Gleason. She was dressed exactly as he had seen her before, wearing the tinted Harlequin glasses that made her look younger and less sophisticated than she was without them.
Shayne took a deep, disbelieving drag on his cigarette and held his hand up to hide the lower portion of his face while she stood just inside the archway and her gaze moved around from one group to another in the room. It moved over him without recognition, he thought, though it was difficult to tell with those glasses on, and then she smiled and moved forward gracefully as Saul Henderson went hurriedly to greet her with outstretched hand.
From his position across the room, Shayne could hear nothing they said as they stood together for a moment chatting like old friends. Then Henderson took her arm and led her toward the bar and Shayne wondered if she would ask for a stinger.
What was Hilda Gleason doing here at Henderson’s party? It made absolutely no sense if you believed the story she had told him a few evenings ago. True, there was the inexplicable connection between Muriel Graham and her missing husband. Could she possibly have managed to identify Jane Smith as Henderson’s stepdaughter, and thus come here to try and find out something about her husband?
Shayne didn’t see how she could have managed that. The girl had checked out of the hotel before Hilda came to him, and left for New York the next morning.
He kept his hand up in front of his face, broodingly sucking on his cigarette while he watched Henderson get her a cocktail at the bar (a stinger, no less, if the liqueur in the squat bottle was creme de menthe as Shayne suspected) and lead her to a group nearby and start introducing her to other guests.
At this point, Shayne found himself heartily inclined to disbelieve every word that had been said to him by both Jane Smith and Hilda Gleason. Since meeting Henderson in person he had been having more and more difficulty casting him in the role of a black-hearted seducer of his virginal stepdaughter while the mother lay dying in the adjoining bedroom. It wasn’t that he liked the man. He didn’t. He was irritated by his effusiveness and his surface charm, but he didn’t feel the really deep-rooted loathing for the man that he wanted to feel for one who had done what Jane Smith so feelingly and graphically described.
And now Hilda walked in on the party calmly, and acted perfectly at home with her host whom she certainly had not mentioned to Shayne while imploring him to locate her husband, supposedly in Miami on some secret and dangerous errand of his own.
He stayed in his chair removed from the others, watching Henderson take Hilda from group to group, getting the distinct impression that she was a stranger to the others and meeting all of them for the first time.
When they finally turned toward his corner of the room, Shayne mashed his cigarette out and got to his feet, grimly studying Hilda’s face as she was led nearer by Henderson, striving to guess whether she was as surprised by his presence as he was by hers.
Those damned glasses made it difficult. He had never before realized just how important a woman’s eyes were in helping a man judge her inner feelings. Certainly she dissembled well if she was surprised and disconcerted to see him.
There was an interested smile on her full lips and the bluish blankness of her glasses to conceal what she really felt when Henderson said, “Mrs. Moran. It’s an honor to present Mr. Shayne. Michael Shayne. One of the most famous private detectives in the country, if you don’t already know.”
“But, of course, I have heard of Michael Shayne.” She extended her hand and gripped his firmly, held it for an extra squeeze which he interpreted as a signal for him to pretend not to recognize her.
Shayne said very formally, “I’m delighted to meet you. I was just sitting here waiting for you to show up.”
“So?” She wrinkled her forehead charmingly. “How could that be?”
“Very simple. You are an extremely beautiful woman without an escort, and my date has deserted me. Do you mind being the perfect host, Henderson, and leaving us alone to get better acquainted?”
He reached for the arm that Henderson was clutching, and deliberately pulled her away and stepped aside so she could sit in the chair he had been occupying.
Henderson was unable to conceal a flicker of irritation that crossed his face, and Shayne wondered if it went deeper than mere irritation, but his voice was bland as he bowed slightly and said, “I don’t blame you for one minute, Shayne, but I warn you that you’ll have to work fast. About five minutes is all I’m going to allow you. Then I have an important matter I want to discuss.”
Shayne stood with his back to the room, facing the chair and Hilda as Henderson went away. She leaned back with her head against the cushion, looking up at him with parted lips and heaving breasts that showed inner tension.
In a low, harsh voice, Shayne said, “Take your glasses off, Hilda.”
The tip of her tongue came out to wet her lips. She reached up obediently and removed her Harlequin glasses. There was animal fright in her luminous brown eyes. “Why are you here, Michael Shayne?”
“I was invited. Why are you here?”
“I, too, was invited.” She lifted one hand appealingly toward him as he stood over her, blocking her off from the rest of the room. “Later, I will explain everything. Come to my room, yes? We cannot talk here.”
“Why not?” He kept his voice low and harsh. “After the run-around you gave me the other night I think I deserve an explanation.”
“It was no run-around as you call it, Michael. Please believe me it was not.”
“Do you want me to believe it’s sheer coincidence that you turned up here today using another name?”
“Perhaps as much coincidence as you being here,” she answered composedly. “Am I to believe that is true?”
“I had my own reasons for coming.”
“I, too, had my reasons. Have you… found any trace of Harry in the city?”
“No. Have you?”
Pain clouded her eyes as she moved her head slowly from side to side. “Nothing. But I am a stranger here and I do not know how to proceed.”
“You don’t appear to be a complete stranger to Henderson.”
“I have said I will explain that later.” She looked past him and sat up straight in her chair, taking a sip from her cocktail. In a fuller-bodied voice, she declared, “I think that would be most pleasant, Mr. Shayne. After the party is over, then?”
Henderson’s voice intruded just behind Shayne. “Just the sort of thing I’ve always heard about you private eyes. Leave you alone for one minute with a beautiful woman and you end up with an assignation.”
Shayne said, “Do you mind?”
“Of course I mind. But I don’t see what I can do about it. Now that you’ve got that settled, Shayne, would you mind stepping inside my office with me? I’ve a matter of extreme importance to discuss with you.”
“You will excuse me?” Hilda was on her feet and moving away from them before Shayne could reply.
Then he said flatly, “My office hours are nine to five. Make an appointment with Miss Hamilton.”
“This is off the record, Shayne. I need professional advice.”
“Do you invite your doctor to a party to get a free prescription from him?” Shayne’s face remained expressionless, but his voice was intentionally insolent.
“See here, Shayne.” Henderson stopped and controlled himself with obvious effort. He smiled thinly and his voice became placating. “I understand, of course, and I’ll be happy to pay your fee for any professional advice you give me. What is your regular charge for a consultation?”