Shayne hesitated, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, and then sank back into his chair. “I understood from the newspapers that your brother died of a heart attack.”

“Of course. That’s what they called it. But I know John was poisoned.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have eyes to see what’s going on, and a brain to add two and two together. If I had the proof I wouldn’t be here in your office, obviously. That’s what I’m hiring you for.”

Shayne said, “Murder is a matter for the police, Miss Rogell. Have you discussed your suspicions with them?”

“Do I look like a complete nincompoop? Of course I have. I called the police immediately after John died, and the two detectives who came just listened to me politely and promised they would investigate. Investigate?” Her upper lip curled bitterly over the word. “They asked a few questions of the very people who fed John the poison, and then went away saying they would file a report.”

“Did they?”

“I suppose they did, and I’d give a great deal to see just what sort of report they filed. I think it’s my right to see it, and I demanded a look at it from Chief Gentry just an hour ago. I’m a taxpayer, I told him, and my taxes help pay your salary and your entire force. But he beat around the bush and said the matter was closed. He refuses to order an autopsy even after I told him about the attempt on my own life last night. He thinks there must be some mistake… that I must be exaggerating. Oh, I could tell just what he was thinking while he sat there on his fat behind in that plushy office that we taxpayers support. He thinks I’m an hysterical old female with a persecution complex. But how does he explain the fact that the dog died in convulsions after eating the food that had been poisoned for my special benefit? How do you think he explains that?”

Shayne said politely, “I have no idea. I do know Will Gentry quite well, and he’s an efficient and honest police officer.”