Brett Halliday - In a Deadly Vein

“It won’t be put to the test now. But he and Bryant had laid their plans carefully. No one could have proved Pete wasn’t Nora’s father. She made a public identification of him. And that stuff planted in Pete’s cabin was mighty convincing evidence. The old clipping and a picture of Peter Dalcor and Nora taken years ago—”

“What happened to that evidence?” Phyllis’s voice was reproachful. She began rubbing her dripping body with the coarse towel. “Why did Mr. Windrow and Strenk deny having seen you dig it up?”

“I had arranged that with them beforehand,” Shayne explained easily. “I thought I’d get a rise out of Bryant that way. Up to that time I didn’t have any proof that Bryant was interested in seeing Carson inherit the mine.”

“But, how did you get them to co-operate with you?”

“That was easy.” Shayne took a meditative sip of his cognac. “I appealed to their greed. You see, they thought Pete was Dalcor and were afraid his third would revert to Frank Carson. So they were anxious to play ball when I suggested that we deny the existence of the evidence.”

“But that was downright crooked of them, if they didn’t know the truth when they agreed with you.”

Shayne assented gravely, “That’s right, Phyl. In their greedy desire to keep all of the mine for themselves they played right into my hands.”

“I didn’t hear either one of them even thank you after it was all over. And if it hadn’t been for you no one would ever have known the truth, and Carson might have gotten Pete’s share of the mine.” Phyllis’s voice held righteous indignation, though slightly muffled as she vigorously toweled her face and neck.

Shayne said, “One doesn’t expect thanks.” He touched the breast pocket of his coat holding a deed to a tenth interest in the mine. He grinned to himself and continued, “One’s reward comes from a sense of civic duty well performed. You’ve taught me that, Phyl. The — ah — dignity of my profession as opposed to the sordid and mercenary outlook I used to have before you came into my life.”

“What did you say?”

“I was just saying—”

She advanced upon him swiftly, swathed in a heavy robe, and settled herself on his lap. “I heard you,” she laughed. “You’re wonderful and I adore you, but — I don’t want to change you too much, Michael. It wouldn’t be so hot if you let yourself get in the habit of not collecting fees.”

Shayne pulled her face down and kissed her lips. He promised, “We’ll struggle along somehow. There’s generally a dollar or so to be picked up if a man knows where to look for it.”