had gone to keep a date with Beatrice,” amplified Gentry.
Shayne nodded, his eyes very bright. “There’s another angle, Will. Did you read the News this morning… and the story about Groat’s diary which they’re going to publish?”
Gentry, nodded absently, getting out a fresh cigar and frowning as he bit the end off it.
“It’s supposed to be a minute-by-minute true and accurate account of the time they spent on the life raft. It’s reasonable to assume that Groat wrote down whatever Albert Hawley told him before he died. So, if someone killed Groat to prevent him from telling Mrs. Wallace the truth about her husband, they must have had a shock when they read in the News this morning that the complete diary was going to be published.”
“Whoever it was would be after the diary now,” Gentry agreed.
“Which is evidently in the possession of Joel Cross, a News reporter. Have you had any word from him on it, Will?”
“Joel Cross?” Gentry lit his cigar and sniffed the blue smoke unappreciatively. “No. Why should I?”
Shayne shrugged. “I just happen to know that his hotel room was searched today by persons unknown… who I’d guess were looking for the diary. Wondered if Cross had reported it.” He got to his feet, shrugging casually. “That’s about it, Will. I promised I’d come clean.”
He turned to go out, but Gentry stopped him with a growled, “Hold it, Mike.”
Shayne stopped halfway to the door, turned his aching head slowly and carefully so it wouldn’t fall off.
“Assuming Groat learned something from Albert Hawley about Leon Wallace’s disappearance that was detrimental to the Hawleys… would he have tried to blackmail them?”
“I didn’t know Groat. But from what I gathered from his wife and Lucy, I think the exact opposite. He was a sort of religious fanatic. One who would insist on telling the truth and letting the chips fall where they might.”
“Giving the Hawley family the same motive for killing him as if he had threatened blackmail?”
“Y-e-s,” Shayne agreed slowly. “If they didn’t know he’d already arranged to publish the diary.” He thought for a moment and a hot glow came into his eyes. “Here’s another thought, Will. Suppose some other unscrupulous person knew what was in the diary and wanted to use it to blackmail the Hawleys. He’d be unable to do so as long as Groat was alive. But with Groat dead, and with him having possession of the diary, he’d be in a position to make a deal.”
“Who else knew about it?”
“Joel Cross, for one. He read the diary yesterday. I’d check and see what he was doing at eight o’clock last night.” Shayne turned to the door again, and kept on going this time.
Lucy Hamilton looked up with a grimace when he entered his office half an hour later. “A woman called just a few minutes ago and insisted that I give her your home address when I told her you weren’t in.”
Shayne ruffled his red hair and grinned at her. “Who was the lady?”
“I didn’t say she was a lady,” said Lucy primly. “She giggled when I asked her, and refused to give her name.”
“Did she also nibble on her finger?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Lucy replied disdainfully. “She sounded mentally retarded and man-crazy.”
Shayne nodded grave approval. “You’re developing quite a knack for character analysis over the telephone. I suppose you gave this charming maiden the information she wanted.”
“I gave her the name of your hotel. You once told me I was never to refuse it to a female inquirer.”
Shayne said, “That’s swell. My liquor supply won’t be safe from now on. Anything else?”
Lucy was shaking her head when her telephone buzzed. She lifted it and said dulcetly, “Michael Shayne’s office.”
She listened and said, “One moment, please. I’ll see if Mr. Shayne is in.” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said, “Another female. This one doesn’t giggle, and I bet
Shayne nodded, his eyes very bright. “There’s another angle, Will. Did you read the News this morning… and the story about Groat’s diary which they’re going to publish?”
Gentry, nodded absently, getting out a fresh cigar and frowning as he bit the end off it.
“It’s supposed to be a minute-by-minute true and accurate account of the time they spent on the life raft. It’s reasonable to assume that Groat wrote down whatever Albert Hawley told him before he died. So, if someone killed Groat to prevent him from telling Mrs. Wallace the truth about her husband, they must have had a shock when they read in the News this morning that the complete diary was going to be published.”
“Whoever it was would be after the diary now,” Gentry agreed.
“Which is evidently in the possession of Joel Cross, a News reporter. Have you had any word from him on it, Will?”
“Joel Cross?” Gentry lit his cigar and sniffed the blue smoke unappreciatively. “No. Why should I?”
Shayne shrugged. “I just happen to know that his hotel room was searched today by persons unknown… who I’d guess were looking for the diary. Wondered if Cross had reported it.” He got to his feet, shrugging casually. “That’s about it, Will. I promised I’d come clean.”
He turned to go out, but Gentry stopped him with a growled, “Hold it, Mike.”
Shayne stopped halfway to the door, turned his aching head slowly and carefully so it wouldn’t fall off.
“Assuming Groat learned something from Albert Hawley about Leon Wallace’s disappearance that was detrimental to the Hawleys… would he have tried to blackmail them?”
“I didn’t know Groat. But from what I gathered from his wife and Lucy, I think the exact opposite. He was a sort of religious fanatic. One who would insist on telling the truth and letting the chips fall where they might.”
“Giving the Hawley family the same motive for killing him as if he had threatened blackmail?”
“Y-e-s,” Shayne agreed slowly. “If they didn’t know he’d already arranged to publish the diary.” He thought for a moment and a hot glow came into his eyes. “Here’s another thought, Will. Suppose some other unscrupulous person knew what was in the diary and wanted to use it to blackmail the Hawleys. He’d be unable to do so as long as Groat was alive. But with Groat dead, and with him having possession of the diary, he’d be in a position to make a deal.”
“Who else knew about it?”
“Joel Cross, for one. He read the diary yesterday. I’d check and see what he was doing at eight o’clock last night.” Shayne turned to the door again, and kept on going this time.
Lucy Hamilton looked up with a grimace when he entered his office half an hour later. “A woman called just a few minutes ago and insisted that I give her your home address when I told her you weren’t in.”
Shayne ruffled his red hair and grinned at her. “Who was the lady?”
“I didn’t say she was a lady,” said Lucy primly. “She giggled when I asked her, and refused to give her name.”
“Did she also nibble on her finger?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Lucy replied disdainfully. “She sounded mentally retarded and man-crazy.”
Shayne nodded grave approval. “You’re developing quite a knack for character analysis over the telephone. I suppose you gave this charming maiden the information she wanted.”
“I gave her the name of your hotel. You once told me I was never to refuse it to a female inquirer.”
Shayne said, “That’s swell. My liquor supply won’t be safe from now on. Anything else?”
Lucy was shaking her head when her telephone buzzed. She lifted it and said dulcetly, “Michael Shayne’s office.”
She listened and said, “One moment, please. I’ll see if Mr. Shayne is in.” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said, “Another female. This one doesn’t giggle, and I bet
Similar Books
