Stranger in Town (10 page)

“I was assured personally by your Chief Hanger that everything humanly possible was done to save the child, and that was a great comfort to me. If I should learn now that there had been negligence…”

“I didn’t mean that,” Shayne cut in, realizing that such a suspicion could only arouse fresh sorrow in the parent. “You remember I asked you earlier if Jean was acquainted with a young Orlando attorney named Randolph Harris?”

“I remember that question. Yes. And I answered that I was quite certain she was not.”

“What about Jeanette? Do you think she might have known him?”

The professor was a little slower and less positive in his reply this time. “I’m quite sure I never heard his name before you mentioned it over the telephone,” he said stiffly. “But in all fairness, I must explain that Jeanette was not as close to me as her elder sister. She led a gayer life than Jean, and had a much wider circle of friends. It is possible he might have been among them and I was not aware of the fact.” He puffed more smoke from his pipe and sighed deeply. “It is exceedingly difficult these days to know just where to draw the line with young girls. They are so much freer today. Without a mother to exert a firmly guiding influence… it is exceedingly difficult,” he repeated. “Since the tragedy occurred, I cannot forgive myself for having weakly gone against my better judgment and allowed Jeanette to have her own car. Yet other girls her same age and in her social group did, and it was difficult to say no.” He smiled wanly. “It was always difficult to refuse Jeanette anything she had set her heart upon. And it was her own money that paid for the car. Their mother left each child a small cash inheritance to be absolutely theirs upon her death. It was her belief that girls needed the freedom and responsibility of having a certain sum that was their very own to do with as they wished. I’m sure her instincts were right,” he added gently, “and I cannot blame her for what happened.”

Shayne said, “Of course not.” He got out a small notebook and pencil. “Just to get everything perfectly clear… can you give me the name of the school friend Jeanette was going to visit when she had the accident?”

“A girl named Lois Dongan. A very sweet child. One of Jeanette’s dearest friends. She lives with her parents on a farm near the town of Diston. Just a few miles beyond Brockton. She and Jeanette were both in the freshman class at Rollins, and she often visited here during the semesters.”

Shayne made a note of the name in his book. “Would Lois be at home now, or at college?”

“Why… at college. She lives in one of the dormitories there and only goes home for vacations.”

“You don’t know which dormitory?”

“No. The registrar can give you that information, I daresay. But what has this to do with Jean, Mr. Shayne? I can’t see any possible connection…”

“Neither can I… at this point.” Shayne arose decisively. “But there are a couple of curious aspects that bother me. If you should get any definite information at all about Jean… if you think of anything that may be at all pertinent that you haven’t told me, please telephone me at once at the Manor Hotel in Brockton. Michael Shayne. You won’t forget that?”

“Indeed not.” Professor Henderson got up in some agitation and Shayne turned to study the picture on the mantel again.

“You have another picture of Jean I could take with me, Professor Henderson? A later one if possible.”

“Why yes, I… I believe I do. If you’ll wait just a moment…”

The professor bustled from the room and Shayne waited. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Henderson that he
knew
his daughter was not safely on a cruise with friends from Apalachicola. That he had seen her just the night before in Brockton, and that she was apparently consorting with a gang of hoodlums who took murder in their stride.

It couldn’t possibly do any good to tell the professor now, he told himself. The old boy had suffered grief enough from the death of his youngest daughter. Time enough for him to find out about this elder daughter after the mystery was cleared up. Perhaps she was still suffering from amnesia and didn’t even know what she was doing when she fingered him for the three men. Could be she’d had her attack of amnesia before getting the bus for Apalachicola.

Could be all sorts of implausible things, because there certainly didn’t seem to be any plausible answers at the moment.

The only thing he had to go on was the very tenuous fact that Jeanette had been taken to the Brockton Sanitarium after her accident by a man who had hurried away without identifying himself, and a filling station attendant thought that Randolph Harris had asked directions to the sanitarium the evening before he had his fatal accident—the same night Jean had been brought to the Brockton hospital and left there by another unidentified man after what appeared to be another accident.

None of it seemed to tie together at all. Except that all three of them lived in Orlando.

Shayne turned slowly from the fireplace as Professor Henderson reentered the room carrying in his hand a glossy 5x7 print of Jean’s head and shoulders.

Again, in this picture (a later shot and better likeness than the one on the mantel), Jean was serene and beautiful and unsmiling. There was an unpleasant constriction in Shayne’s chest as the professor handed him the print happily. “This is very good of Jean. Very like her. A lovely girl, Mr. Shayne, and a great comfort to me. If anything should happen to
her…”

Michael Shayne said gruffly, “I’ll do my very best to see that nothing does, Professor Henderson. Thank you for helping, and I’ll be in touch with you.”

He stowed the photograph away inside his coat pocket and followed Henderson to the door.

WINTER PARK was a short drive from Orlando. A neat, pleasant village with the unmistakable atmosphere of a college town. Shayne went directly to the registrar’s office where he obtained, without difficulty, directions for finding the dormitory where Lois Dongan roomed. An obliging student assistant also checked Lois’ schedule for him, and he learned that the freshman was at that moment attending her last class of the day which would be over in about fifteen minutes.

He went back to his car and drove the short distance to the dormitory, parked outside in the shade and settled himself comfortably with a cigarette behind the wheel, hoping Lois would appear as soon as her last class ended.

Boys and girls passed on that sidewalk as he waited, some gaily chattering groups of three or four, but mostly in couples. The girls young and buoyant in short skirts and bright scarves on their heads, the boys young and grave in unpressed slacks and T-shirts.

It was the extreme youth of all of them that Shayne noted particularly. They looked like high-school kids to him. Yet he knew they must all be seventeen or older. It seemed to him that these were mere children compared to the seventeen-year-olds of his day. He, for instance, had been on his own for two years at that age, doing a man’s work and drawing a man’s pay. Many of the girls he had gone to school with had been married at eighteen, settled matrons by the time they reached voting age.

It was a distinct pleasure to watch them passing by, and he tried not to think of Jeanette Henderson as having been one of them only a month ago. And Jean, too. She would be a Junior, he assumed. He wondered idly how she had obtained leave from her classes to go on a cruise in the Gulf, and mentally noted that as one more question he should ask.

Twenty minutes had passed and he was working on his third cigarette when a group of eight or ten girls appeared from the direction of the college, and turned opposite his car onto the walk leading into the dormitory. Shayne slid from under the wheel and overtook them in long strides, calling as he approached, “Are any of you girls Lois Dongan?”

They paused in a group and turned to look at him curiously, and one girl detached herself from the others and said, “I’m Lois. Who’re you?”

She smiled as she spoke, which took away any hint of impudence, and Shayne smiled back, liking her at once. She was taller than most of her companions, and had a pleasant, well-tanned face. She was solidly fleshed without any excess fat, and stood flatly on low-heeled shoes with a nice look of candid curiosity in her brown eyes. A sensible girl and a trustworthy one, Shayne decided immediately, recalling Professor Henderson’s statement that she lived on a farm beyond Brockton. She had a self-reliant air of confidence that pleased him. He took off his hat and explained, “My name is Michael Shayne, Miss Dongan. Professor Henderson in Orlando suggested you might be able to answer a few questions for me.”

The professor’s name brought a slight cloud to her sunny features, though her eyes were as candidly curious as before. After lingering glances at the tall, red-headed stranger, the other girls withdrew and went on toward the building.

“What sort of questions?” Lois asked quietly.

“About Jeanette. I understand you were her best friend.”

The girl’s underlip trembled almost imperceptibly. “What… do you want to know about Jeanette?”

“Could we sit in my car while we talk? It won’t be quite so public,” Shayne urged as another group of girls came down the walk toward them.

She compressed her lips and then nodded. They went side by side to his car and Shayne opened the door on the right for her to get in. He went around to the other side, and saw her studying him intently as he got under the wheel.

“Shayne?” There was a question and a slight tremor of fear in her voice. “Michael Shayne. Aren’t you a private detective from Miami? I’m sure I’ve seen your picture in the papers.”

Shayne said, “That’s right, Lois. I’m investigating Jeanette’s… accident.”

She caught her underlip between her teeth and turned to look straight ahead through the windshield. In a moment, she asked in a strained voice, “What is there to investigate?”

“That,” said Shayne, “is what I hoped you’d be able to tell me.”

“She had an accident. She died,” said Lois in the same strained voice. “What else is there?”

“There was another fatal accident near Brockton last week. Perhaps you heard about it. A young lawyer from Orlando named Randolph Harris.”

Watching her profile carefully, Shayne thought he detected a faint expression of relief on her face. She turned to look at him and there was only curiosity on her face now. “I remember reading about it. What has that to do with Jeanette?”

“Weren’t they rather good friends?” Shayne asked bluntly.

Her “No,” was very positive. “I don’t think she even knew him,” Lois amended. “Wasn’t he quite old? A State’s Attorney or something?”

“He was all of twenty-six,” Shayne told her drily. “Did you know all of Jeanette’s friends?”

“I think so. All of her
friends
anyway.”

“Did she have many?”

“Scads. She was one of the most popular girls in the freshman class.”

“Had you known her long?”

“Ever since first year high-school. We used to live near Orlando until we moved to a farm near Diston two years ago.”

“And she was on her way to visit you there when it happened?”

There was the slightest indication of hesitancy before Lois answer firmly, “Yes. It was mid-term vacation beginning the fifteenth of last month.”

“Did you ever hear of the Brockton Sanitarium, Lois?”

This time there was no hesitancy in her reply. “That’s where they took Jeanette after the accident, wasn’t it? That’s the first I ever heard of it.”

“When did you first learn about Jeanette’s accident?”

“Early the next morning. Professor Henderson telephoned.” Lois shuddered and bit her underlip again. “I just couldn’t believe it at first. Not Jeanette. She was so… so vital if you know what I mean. So full of the joy of life. She was… wonderful,” she added softly.

“Hadn’t you been worried about her not reaching your house?” Shayne put in fast. “After all, you expected her the preceding evening.” He was guessing on this point, but it seemed reasonable to assume that a seventeen-year-old girl driving her own car would plan to arrive at her destination at a reasonable hour.

She was taken off base by the unexpected question and stammered, “I… I was surprised of course when she didn’t come and didn’t come. But I thought something had delayed her.”

“And you just went calmly to sleep that night,” asked Shayne harshly, “without bothering to call her home to see if she had left on schedule?”

Lois’ chin was set and her eyes flashed angrily as she faced Shayne again. “What right have you to ask me these questions?
I
had nothing to do with her accident.”

Shayne hesitated a moment, assaying the temperament of the girl beside him. His first impression remained strong. A sensible and trustworthy girl. And loyal to her friend’s memory. If she were concealing anything derogatory, wild horses wouldn’t drag it from her unless she were given a good reason for revealing it.

He said, “I don’t blame you, Lois, but I’m not just snooping for the fun of it. You know Jean Henderson, don’t you?”

“Of course. What about her?”

“I’m afraid she’s in trouble, Lois.”

Amazement and utter disbelief spread over the young girl’s face. She cried, “Jean? I don’t believe it. She’s not the type. She doesn’t… why I just don’t believe it.”

“I don’t know what type,” said Shayne wearily, “you expect to get into trouble, Lois. But I assure you that Jean is. And Brockton is the focal point again.”

“I thought Jean had gone on a cruise with the Larches in Apalachicola.”

“Her father also thinks that,” Shayne told her grimly. “But I saw Jean in Brockton last night. She’s in danger. In deadly danger, Lois. I’m working in the dark and I need any tiny bit of information I can get.”

“But what’s she doing in Brockton?”

“I don’t know. What,” asked Shayne deliberately, “was her younger sister doing in Brockton a month ago?”

“But I’ve told you. She was on her way to visit me.” The girl’s voice was pleading. She avoided Shayne’s eyes, nervously twisting her fingers together in her lap.

“And I don’t believe you,” Shayne told her promptly. “I’m convinced Jean’s presence in Brockton has some connection with her sister’s accident.” He was going out on a limb with that statement, but he had to convince the girl somehow and it was no time for half measures. “I tell you Jean is in danger and you’re the only one who can help me save her.”