“I don’t know!” she said helplessly. “I don’t know anything about it yet, except that it happened.”

“You’re his secretary. You’ve got a right to talk to the cops and ask them. He was bringing me a package, understand. It could be wrapped up in paper, or in some kind of little suitcase. Watch for it. If you see it, kind of latch onto it, know what I mean? It’s Harry’s property, but if the cops get hold of it, ten to one Harry won’t see it again.”

“I don’t think I could do that,” she said.

“Then get a receipt for it,” he insisted. “In front of witnesses. Shayne, you advise her.”

Shayne grinned at him. He pressed the Drive button and they began to move. The girl called back, “The liquor’s on the terrace.”

Shayne remarked, “Doc hasn’t changed much since I saw him last.”

“I knew there was money in that suitcase. Harry doesn’t use names on the phone, but he has a special tone of voice when he’s talking to people like that.”

Shayne turned left at the foot of the driveway. She looked at him in surprise.

“The sirens were on the other side of the island.”

“They’re stopping cars,” Shayne told her. “I’m going in across the golf course.”

There was a Saturday night dance at the Normandy Shores clubhouse. The building was ablaze with light and activity, and surrounded by parked cars. A boy with a flashlight waved them into the parking lot. Shayne cut all the way through, stopping when his headlights picked up a line of battery-powered golf carts in front of the professional’s shop.

“I can’t walk in these heels,” Theo said doubtfully.

“Nobody walks in Miami,” Shayne said.

He took a three-cell flashlight out of his glove compartment and left his headlights on so he could see to start one of the little carts and back it out of line. The girl perched beside him. He saw red flashes in the sky from the revolving beacon on one of the pieces of fire apparatus, and he set his course by that.