Peggy’s story of that evening without any prompting from the sidelines. How do you remember it, Peggy?”
“Shall I tell him?” She settled herself in a chair and smoothed a short skirt down over thick thighs.
“Sure. Tell him just how it was. I got nothing to hide. He’s got a reputation around town for being a square shooter.”
“Well, I was at the crap table there at the Gray Gull and being bored. It was about nine o’clock, I guess.” She glanced at Gene and he nodded and said, “About that. Maybe a little after.”
“We got to talking, Gene and me, and… we hit it off right away.” She gazed at him fondly. “I knew right off he was a good sport, and… well, the chemicals were right, if you know what I mean.” She gazed boldly at Shayne and tittered slightly.
“And he told me he’d brought this other woman playing roulette, but he’d just as leave ditch her anyhow, and so why didn’t we go some place else.”
“Did he point her out to you?”
“Sure. That is, I watched him go over and speak to her. A sort of horsy blonde wearing a bright red dress cut all the way down to here.” She made an exaggerated slashing motion down to her navel. “So you didn’t have to do too much guessing about what was underneath the red dress, if you know what I mean. Some men go for that kind of thing, but Gene admitted he preferred to make his own discoveries.” Again, she gazed fondly at her room-mate. “Anyhow, she was already making up to some other guy, and so we slipped out.” She shrugged. “That’s all there was to it.”
“Did you notice the man you say she was already making up to?”
“I can’t say that I did. I wasn’t too interested in either one of them right about then.”
“Is this a picture of the woman at the Gray Gull?” Shayne showed her the picture of Ellen Harris.
She nodded disinterestedly. “I guess. She wasn’t really near that pretty, but I guess it’s her all right.”
“Are you prepared to testify that you haven’t seen the blonde since then, and that you and Gene spent the rest of that night together… and have been together ever since?”
“Hey! What’s this about testifying? You don’t have to drag Peggy into this.”
“She’s already dragged into it,” Shayne told him coldly. “So far as anybody knows right now, you two are the last people who have seen Mrs. Harris. You’ll have to come down to police headquarters and sign a statement.”
“Police headquarters?” It was an anguished cry from Gene’s outraged lips. “You’re private. What you got to do with the police? Look, I came clean with you thinking we could keep the whole thing nice and quiet.”
“This woman has been missing for five days. Her husband is here from New York raising hell all over the place. This picture is going to be reproduced on the front page of tonight’s News with a headline asking for information about her. You can’t get away from it, Gene. If your story checks out, the chances are it won’t have to be made public. Let me take you in and give you to Peter Painter right now, and your chances for keeping it quiet will be just about doubled. He hates my guts enough that he’s going to be so damned sore I got to you first that he’ll do practically anything to prove your innocence. So, let’s go.
“Besides, you haven’t got any choice,” Shayne ended grimly, getting to his feet. “Either get dressed and come along with me like a good citizen, or I’ll call in and have them send the wagon around for both of you.”
11.
Peter Painter kept the three of them cooling their heels for at least fifteen minutes in a small anteroom just off his private office at Miami Beach headquarters. Shayne sat in a chair a little removed from the other two and placidly smoked two cigarettes while they talked together in whispers, interspersed now and then by a fluty giggle from Peggy.
Neither of them appeared really upset or frightened. They resented being brought
“Shall I tell him?” She settled herself in a chair and smoothed a short skirt down over thick thighs.
“Sure. Tell him just how it was. I got nothing to hide. He’s got a reputation around town for being a square shooter.”
“Well, I was at the crap table there at the Gray Gull and being bored. It was about nine o’clock, I guess.” She glanced at Gene and he nodded and said, “About that. Maybe a little after.”
“We got to talking, Gene and me, and… we hit it off right away.” She gazed at him fondly. “I knew right off he was a good sport, and… well, the chemicals were right, if you know what I mean.” She gazed boldly at Shayne and tittered slightly.
“And he told me he’d brought this other woman playing roulette, but he’d just as leave ditch her anyhow, and so why didn’t we go some place else.”
“Did he point her out to you?”
“Sure. That is, I watched him go over and speak to her. A sort of horsy blonde wearing a bright red dress cut all the way down to here.” She made an exaggerated slashing motion down to her navel. “So you didn’t have to do too much guessing about what was underneath the red dress, if you know what I mean. Some men go for that kind of thing, but Gene admitted he preferred to make his own discoveries.” Again, she gazed fondly at her room-mate. “Anyhow, she was already making up to some other guy, and so we slipped out.” She shrugged. “That’s all there was to it.”
“Did you notice the man you say she was already making up to?”
“I can’t say that I did. I wasn’t too interested in either one of them right about then.”
“Is this a picture of the woman at the Gray Gull?” Shayne showed her the picture of Ellen Harris.
She nodded disinterestedly. “I guess. She wasn’t really near that pretty, but I guess it’s her all right.”
“Are you prepared to testify that you haven’t seen the blonde since then, and that you and Gene spent the rest of that night together… and have been together ever since?”
“Hey! What’s this about testifying? You don’t have to drag Peggy into this.”
“She’s already dragged into it,” Shayne told him coldly. “So far as anybody knows right now, you two are the last people who have seen Mrs. Harris. You’ll have to come down to police headquarters and sign a statement.”
“Police headquarters?” It was an anguished cry from Gene’s outraged lips. “You’re private. What you got to do with the police? Look, I came clean with you thinking we could keep the whole thing nice and quiet.”
“This woman has been missing for five days. Her husband is here from New York raising hell all over the place. This picture is going to be reproduced on the front page of tonight’s News with a headline asking for information about her. You can’t get away from it, Gene. If your story checks out, the chances are it won’t have to be made public. Let me take you in and give you to Peter Painter right now, and your chances for keeping it quiet will be just about doubled. He hates my guts enough that he’s going to be so damned sore I got to you first that he’ll do practically anything to prove your innocence. So, let’s go.
“Besides, you haven’t got any choice,” Shayne ended grimly, getting to his feet. “Either get dressed and come along with me like a good citizen, or I’ll call in and have them send the wagon around for both of you.”
11.
Peter Painter kept the three of them cooling their heels for at least fifteen minutes in a small anteroom just off his private office at Miami Beach headquarters. Shayne sat in a chair a little removed from the other two and placidly smoked two cigarettes while they talked together in whispers, interspersed now and then by a fluty giggle from Peggy.
Neither of them appeared really upset or frightened. They resented being brought
Similar Books
