Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 12, No. 6, May 1963

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Who’d want to kill a ninety-year old man just because he was worth millions? Mike Shayne’s defense against murder turned up a couple of rank amateurs playing a deadly game.

When he reached the highway, Michael Shayne pointed the nose of his car north and increased his speed to eighty miles an hour. The long white ribbon of concrete before him lay washed and new in the bright Miami sunlight. Visibility was perfect. Green rows of palm trees bordered the distant horizon.

Shayne wrinkled his eyes against the glare, fished out a cigarette and thought about Hat Raymond. It was a helluva long way to go to see a client.

The oldest living male resident of Florida had phoned him early that morning. The voice on the long distance line had been crackling, sere and ancient. Like a wheeze from the past. Shayne had been surprised that Hat Raymond was still alive.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Raymond?”

“From what I hear about you — plenty, son.” A pleasant Southern accent tinged Hat Raymond’s dry voice. “Fact is, I need a smart young feller to do some investigating for me, Shayne.”

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