It seemed more a case for a psychoanalyst than a detective when hysterical Phyllis Brighton—rich, beautiful, and barely out of her teens—tried to hire Mike Shayne to watch her, because she was afraid she was going to murder her mother. But when Mike got a load of the set-up at the Brighton mansion, two things changed his mind: a slimy private secretary named Montrose, and a phony doctor whose theories began where Freud's left off. Both of them were just a little too anxious to convince the stubborn redhead that Phyllis was "a very sick girl." And Mike Shayne was a man who liked to make up his own mind.
