Blood On Biscayne Bay
“Neither Leslie nor Floyd Hudson was at home.
Shayne said, “Don’t hold out on me, Christine. For God’s sake give it to me straight. Did Victor Morrison write those letters to you?”
She said, “No—not unless he was completely out of his mind. And they were never mailed to me. I have never seen the originals of those photostats.”
Shayne said, “Everything I’ve turned up thus far points to their genuineness. I’m sorry as hell, but it’s your word against a lot of facts.”
“Does Mr. Morrison claim he wrote them to me?”
“Naturally not. He declares they’re forgeries. But we know they’re not.”
Christine sighed faintly but her chin remained defiantly lifted. “I can’t help it, Michael I’ve told you the truth. I swear Mr. Morrison never so much as made a pass at me during the two and a half years I worked for him.”
Shayne argued quietly, “It doesn’t make sense that way, Christine.
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