Brett Halliday - Million Dollar Handle

“And who is this witness?”

“That’s it. The witness refuses to become involved.”

“It could be Mike Shayne,” Parker said, “but we don’t want to use that name because of that unwritten rule in the department. Somebody who couldn’t get to sleep that night. I think we can swing it, don’t you, Hamzy?”

“If you think we ought to. But what’s the point?”

“I don’t see the point either, but you know we’re just beatmen, not thinkers.”

A theory was beginning to take shape, but there were still many blanks. Until Shayne could fill them in, he decided to take a few ordinary precautions. Instead of returning to his own apartment, he drove south on One, and picked a motel where his car couldn’t be seen from the road. He slept for three hours, had a quick breakfast in the coffee shop, and got on the phone.

He woke up the real estate editor of Rourke’s paper, and after apologizing for that, asked if there was any truth in the rumors about Harry Zell, the developer. Shayne had heard his business was about to fold.

“That’s nothing new, Mike. It’s always about to fold. He’s been in some terminal jams, and he always came out smelling of roses. I don’t know where his Surfside deal stands, now that Geary is dead. God knows Harry could use a winner. At the same time, it might be a cash drain, so nothing’s simple.”

“If you were giving advice to an investor-”

“I’d tell him to cross the street when he sees Harry coming. But I always give that advice about Harry, and some of my friends hate me for it. I’m not predicting anything. He’s had some dazzling successes when the phone company was just about to shut off his service. What can I tell you about operators like Harry? Most of the time they aren’t using their own money. In a typical office-building deal, they can’t get the mortgage commitment until they get a lease from the main tenant, and the tenant won’t give them the lease until they have the mortgage. So what they contribute is confidence. People have to be confident they can put it together. And Harry has lost some of that.”

“Who are his big creditors, banks?”

“Banks, yes, but he can’t get real money at the prime rate anymore. He’s in pretty deep with factors. C. and W. is the main one, and the vigorish there is brutal. Twenty percent and more. In other words, loan-shark money. They make loans to people the banks won’t let in the door.”

“What does C. and W. stand for?”

“Probably nothing. Charlie and Wilbur? I don’t know.”

“Can you find out?”

“I’ll try, Mike. If I get anything I’ll give it to Tim.”

More phone calls, to Rourke, to the sports editor, Ben Wanamaker. After several unsuccessful attempts, Shayne located Bobby Nash, a dog track owner. The Nash track was dark at present because Surfside, again, had been awarded the valuable middle dates. His father, now dead, had been a contemporary of Geary’s, and had been through the same kind of early trouble.

“I don’t know if I ought to be talking to you, Mike,” Nash said. “But I probably can’t catch anything on the phone. Just don’t try to put the bite on me, because I’m a poor man. Ask anybody. Ask IRS.”

“I’ll tell you in a minute why I’m calling,” Shayne said. “Can I ask a couple of general questions first?”

“Go ahead. That doesn’t mean I’ll answer them.”

“Were you surprised at the names on Max’s payoff fist?”

“Surprised?” Nash made a bitter sound. “In most cases, for obvious reasons, not at all. That statement is not for quotation. I’m surprised Max thought he had to write it down. To be frank with you, the one name that really surprised me was yours. My father used to think highly of you. I seem to remember you did a couple of jobs for him-straight jobs for a straight fee, agreed upon in advance. So surprised is too mild a word. Mystified would be better.”

“Thanks,” Shayne said. “What effect do you think this is going to have on dog racing?”

“On dog racing as a whole? I hope we can survive it. Everybody’s going to want to wipe the mud off his boots, and you know who they’re going to try to wipe them on. Max is out of the picture. The rest of us aren’t. I’ve just had my first report from Tallahassee. Two investigations in the works. Two separate committees, public hearings, possibly televised. I’ll be called. There’s no way it can be avoided. I’ll be asked questions that may be mighty hard to answer.”

“You don’t think the questions will be confined to Surfside?”

“We’re all in the same boat. Our security measures are much the same. We use many of the same people. We deal with the same unions, the same politicians, some of the same cops. If they ask me did I ever pay you, Mike Shayne, any money, I can say absolutely not. That one is easy. A couple of seasons back, I had a kennel situation I was going to bring you in on, but we straightened it out without calling in outside help. That’s just the sort of thing these inquiries are going to rake up. All I see ahead is trouble.”

“I think I may have thought of a way to get you off the hook.”

“Is that so,” Nash snapped. “What’s it going to cost me?”

“This would be barter. I need the loan of some equipment and a couple of technicians.”

“What kind of equipment?”

“I want to tie some of your closed-circuit cameras into the Surfside system. Would that be possible?”

“Complicated, but not impossible. I’ve got a full setup sitting here doing nothing. Now tell me why.”

“If I could answer that, I wouldn’t have to do it. I’m somebody else who’s going to be asked questions under oath, and not just by an investigating committee. By a grand jury. Don’t know and don’t remember-those are the two answers they don’t like to hear. Sometimes it’s the small man who didn’t cooperate who gets the longest term.”

“But we all know it’s the best legal system in the world. So cooperate, Mike. Why not? Geary’s dead. Nobody’ll blame you.”

“No, I’ve got to do it another way. If I can blow the whole thing open, there may be enough fallout so they’ll forget about me. There was a hell of a lot of money loose up there. Apparently Geary himself was taking six thousand a night.”

“Six thousand!”

“And that would be six thousand times what?”

“One hundred and eighty programs a year. That’s the million-dollar handle we’re always hoping to hit. You don’t mean out of the cash register? Here in Miami?”

“Where else?”

Nash waited a moment. “Mike, when I was trying to decide whether to take this call, I called my lawyer. He said absolutely not. But my old man was almost always right about people, so I’ll trust you to take this for what it is, which is guesswork. I’ve had a theory about the Surfside concessions. Assume that somebody’s involved in an illegal business, making good money. He can’t spend it freely because he hasn’t paid taxes on it.”

“Are we talking about Tony Castle?”

“Mike, Tony Castle would fit, but I’m not giving you facts. I’m giving you a supposition. Suppose that such a person or group of persons bought control of a concessions company and made a deal with Surfside and similar operations. Pick a figure. Say that if Geary put his concession business out to bid, he could get a contract for three million. Instead, he negotiates a contract with J. T. Thomas for four. That soaks up the track’s profit, but who cares? The extra million will be paid back somewhere offshore. Castle-if you want to use Castle as an example-could take it out of the skim from his Nassau casino. There’s no income tax in the Bahamas. Geary would set up a company and sign a service contract with the casino, so it would look legitimate. Do you follow me, Mike? Castle washes a million dollars of illegal money in Florida. Surfside doesn’t earn a profit, and so doesn’t owe the United States any income tax. Geary gets the million tax-free in the Bahamas. One of those lovely deals that benefit everybody.”