Brett Halliday - So Lush, So Deadly

“That’ll send him up the wall! Be reasonable, Mike. I’ll be glad to go down another catch basin, or anything easy. But I’m getting older. I’m losing my sense of humor. Petey doesn’t amuse me any more!”

Shayne went out. In the doorway, Rourke called after him, “Don’t leave me out on a limb too long, Mike, or you’ll lose a friend.”

Alone in the elevator, Shayne doubled his fist and slammed it against the wall. It relieved his feelings slightly. With Moseley’s help, the next step would have been easy. Now it might turn out to be very touchy indeed-he wasn’t sure he could pull it off.

He crossed the lobby, ignoring the stares of the guests who were still up. In Rourke’s Ford, he found he had to baby the carburetor to keep it operating while he shifted into the upper gears. He felt the front wheels shiver, but he reached the Sunrise Shores with everything still intact.

The guard at the gate didn’t think he looked trustworthy, and came with him to be sure he was welcome aboard the Nefertiti. Nearing the end of the dock, the guard exclaimed, “They’re gone! Nobody told me they were going!”

Shayne’s pace quickened. He heard a girl’s cry. Sally Lyon hurried down from her father’s boat and ran into his arms.

“Mike, I didn’t know what to do! Your car phone didn’t answer-” She pulled back and looked at his face. “You’re hurt!”

“It looks worse than it is. When did they pull out?”

“Do you know this man, Miss Lyon?” the guard said.

“Isn’t that obvious? Go on back.”

The guard turned reluctantly and Sally went on, “About half an hour ago. I thought we ought to call the police, but Dad talked me out of it. You should have seen them! They were in no condition to-”

She was bouncing in his arms. He took her by the shoulders and made her hold still. She was still wearing the same short nightgown.

“Sally, tell me how it happened.”

“They were drunk and they just took it into their heads to go for a sail. Mrs. De Rham, mostly. Paul was trying to stop her. He looked so desperate! They woke everybody up. They were disgustingly plastered-staggering around drinking out of the bottle! They went out without lights, they forgot to cast off one of the lines and pulled the cleat out of the dock-”

“Which way did they go?”

She waved. “North. And ever since they left I’ve been listening for sirens. He couldn’t get her away from the wheel, and she’s a menace! If they stayed in the Waterway they’re sure to smash into somebody, and good grief, if they went out through the Cut-”

“Did your father wake up?”

“Heavens, yes. He came up and yelled at them to come back. A lot of good that did.”

“Let’s wake him up again,” Shayne said grimly. “I want to borrow your boat.”

She hung onto him as he started to step aboard. “Mike, you’re not too well liked around here, you may remember. It took me an hour to get him calmed down, and I don’t think he believed what you told him about you and me-I mean about not-”

Shayne stepped into the passageway. “Which door?”

She pointed at one of the doors and he hammered on it. “Mr. Lyon! Wake up!”

“Oh, dear,” Sally said. “He probably just got back to sleep for the third time. Let me go in and prepare the way.”

Shayne let her get by. He went up to the wheelhouse. They had a good Hallicrafter radio-telephone, he was glad to see. It was still warming up when Sally’s father came boiling up from below.

“What’s this about taking my boat?” he demanded. “Like hell! You’ll get out of here before I-”

Shayne said mildly, “There’ve been two murders, and there’ll be a third unless we can find the Nefertiti in a hell of a hurry. We need the Coast Guard. You call them while I get underway. I know this water better than you do.” He called out the window, “Cast off, Sally.”

“I already did!”

Lyon was looking at Shayne suspiciously. “Who’s been murdered?” The motors caught. Shayne reversed and began to back into open water.

“Sit down, Mr. Lyon. What business are you in?”

“I’m a retailer. What’s that got to do with anything?” He was sputtering. His hands opened and closed, but Shayne loomed over him, a bloody, menacing figure, and he did nothing more than breathe fiercely through his nose. “You’re hijacking this boat. By God, the first thing the Coast Guard is going to hear-”

“Sally says you’re from Baltimore. This is going to be a pretty big story. You’ll make the Baltimore papers.”

Sally ran in. “Dad, are you being pleasant or unpleasant?”

“He’s about to call the Coast Guard for me,” Shayne told her, swinging around the first buoy that marked the channel under the Broad Causeway to the Bay Harbor Islands and Bal Harbour.

“Sally, go below and get some clothes on,” Mr. Lyon said sharply. “You can see right through that nightgown.”

Sally groaned. “Dad, you’re so far behind the times you’re prehistoric! Well, it’s probably better to have him snapping at me than at you, Mike. I’m more used to it.”

When she left them Lyon hesitated, then picked up the transmitter. “What am I going to get in the Baltimore papers for? Not for being a hero, I hope.”

“They have a gun aboard, but if they use it they’ll be shooting at me,” Shayne said.

“They could miss.” He signaled the marine operator. “I’m thinking about the women as well as myself. Of course,” he added, “they’re probably too potted to find the gun, let alone shoot it. I’ve been known to take a drink myself, but those two on the Nefertiti -they give alcohol a bad name.”

“That’s an impression they’ve been trying to give,” Shayne said. “As a matter of fact, they’ve been sober most of the time.”

“Sober? Mrs. De Rham? She hasn’t drawn a sober breath since she got to Miami.”

“It was part of the con. Tell the operator you want the Coast Guard air station at Opa Locka Airport.”

The operator was slow to answer. Lyon signaled again. When he had a connection he asked urgently for the Coast Guard. “Shayne, they’ve been moored about six feet from me for the last two weeks. I saw the empty bottles.”

Shayne let him listen to how that sounded. Lyon said slowly, “I guess she could have emptied them down the drain, but Beefeater gin-do you know what it costs?”

Sally came in, dressed in brief shorts and a respectable top. “Mother’s sleeping like a baby. What about Beefeater? That’s Mrs. De Rham’s brand.”

The Coast Guard operator’s voice came from the amplifier. Shayne picked up the small mike.

“May Day, May Day.”

The channel was open, and they heard an abrupt clanging of bells.

“Right,” the operator said tersely. “Where are you?”

“North Biscayne Bay. This is Michael Shayne. I’m on a boat named-”

“Panther,” Lyon supplied.

“Panther. A boat’s been stolen. The Nefertiti, fifty, fifty-five foot, a black cruiser.”

“Motor yacht,” Lyon corrected him, leaning forward to speak into the mike. “A deck and a half, open deck aft. Pacemaker.”

“Check. Can you give me a location?”

“We think they went out through Haulover,” Shayne said. “They have half an hour’s start. Two people aboard, a man and a woman. Tell the pilot they’re armed.”

“Roger.”

Sally’s eyes shone with excitement. “Stolen, Mike? Were you making that up?”

“Do you know what he claims?” her father said before Shayne could answer. “He says they’ve only been pretending to be drunk. I’ll be the first to admit I never cottoned to Mrs. De Rham. Very hoity-toity and unsociable. But a non-drinker? I don’t go along with you there, Shayne. I observed her carefully.”