She met him with lifted arms. “Honeymoon, you mean. I knew it would be a case. I wish this could have lasted forever, Mike.”

The intensity of her voice stopped his chuckle. He slid an arm around her slim waist and said, “Think of all the murderers who might go unhung if Michael Shayne spent the rest of his life lolling in his bride’s arms.”

“Is it a murder case? You’ll be careful, won’t you? You promised me.”

Above the luster of her wavy black hair Shayne’s lips quirked upward. But he said very gravely, “Yes, angel, I’ll be careful. I promised to run like hell if anybody said boo, and a Shayne’s promise is as good as another man’s bond.” He swung her into the long pleasant living-room which ran the full width of the apartment on the east. He squeezed her, released her with a little shove.

“You’re putting me off,” she accused. “Can I go with you? I’ll be terribly businesslike.”

Shayne shook his red head at her. “Nothing doing, angel. There’s no telling what’s up. That was Mr. Arnold Thrip on the phone. He’s a realtor with an office on Flagler and he wants to see me at once. I’m not acquainted with the gentleman. He may have committed a murder, be contemplating one, or expecting to be murdered. He may want me to tail his wife for divorce evidence in which case I’ll be back in a hurry.” He grinned down at her and pinched her cheek. “Besides, he may be an ogre that eats beautiful young brides.”

Phyllis looked forlorn. “It’ll be awfully lonesome here.”

“Chin up,” he commanded. His eyes twinkled. “Don’t forget I warned you when you forced me into this. Other wives manage somehow. You can take all the calls and entertain any clients who drop in informally for a spot of tea.”

“I hope some of your gunmen friends come.” Phyllis’s dark eyes sparkled. “They’d just love tea.” She went to the door with him, holding his arm tightly. He opened the door and she breathed, “You will be careful, Mike?”