There was a quizzical smile on Lucy Hamilton’s lips and a little dancing light in her brown eyes as she opened the door to her employer’s private office and announced demurely: “There is a lady to see you, Mr. Shayne.”

It was a warm Miami morning, and Michael Shayne was slumped in a swivel chair behind his wide desk in shirt-sleeves, with collar unbuttoned and tie awry. In front of him was an open checkbook, a pile of cancelled checks and the monthly bank statement. His left hand clawed through unruly red hair and his right hand reached out automatically for a pair of nested paper cups beside the bank statement as he arched ragged brows at his secretary and growled, “A lady?” in a tone of disbelief.

Lucy nodded firmly and drew the door shut behind her. She advanced toward him, saying in an altered tone, “Ditch that brandy, Michael, before I bring her in, and for heaven’s sake, straighten your tie. You might even slip on a jacket for once.”

“Why should I ditch a drink?” Shayne lifted the twin cups and sipped from the contents.

“All right,” said Lucy in a tone of forebearance. “Down the hatch with it and get rid of the evidence. I’m very sure that Miss Henrietta Rogell is not one to approve of drinking at eleven o’clock in the morning.” She reached his side and reached down to brush a coarse lock of red hair back from his forehead.

Shayne grinned up at her and protested, “I didn’t know we were interested in Miss Henrietta Rogell’s approval or disapproval.”

“But we are, Michael. She’s the first client in two weeks.” She slid around behind his chair and put her arms around each side of his neck to button his collar and straighten his tie.

“We’re doing all right without any clients. I’ve been going over last month’s bank statement…”

“And there is less than two thousand dollars in our checking account,” Lucy interrupted him. She stepped back to survey his appearance with a nod of approval. “Miss Henrietta is John Rogell’s sister… and only living relative.”