Brett Halliday: Blood on Biscayne Bay

Shayne shook his red head and said seriously, “For once in my life let me do something for nothing. Let’s say-Phyllis would want it that way-for Christine’s sake.” He looked at his watch and added, “I’d like to use your telephone, and if there’s a seat on the midnight plane I’d appreciate a drive to the airport.”

“Anything at all,” Hudson said heartily, “that we can do for you will be a pleasure.”

Shayne said, “Thanks,” and hurried into the library and called the airport. He was told that there was a vacancy on the plane to New Orleans.

When he returned to the living-room Christine was waiting with a light coat over her arm. In her hands she held a square jewel box and she went to him, pressed a little gold button which snapped the box open. Inside, coiled on a velvet cushion lay a string of pearls. She said, “Leslie and I want you to have these.”

Shayne protested, “I can’t take these. They’re worth a fortune.”

Christine laughed and linked her arm in his. “I told you they’d fool even an expert,” she said. “I’ve told Leslie everything,” she went on breathlessly, “and he agrees that we have no further use for this string now. Aren’t they lovely?” She raised her dark eyes to his and added softly, “Michael?”

Shayne thought of Lucy Hamilton. Maybe a gift like this would persuade her to forgive him for all the trouble and anxiety he had caused her. He said, “Thanks, Christine. I know a girl-but we’ve got to get going if I am to catch that plane.”