Brett Halliday: The Violent World of Michael Shayne

She looked at him curiously. “What you sounded like,” she said in a throaty voice that went with everything else, “was a process server. I have a vast number of creditors, and some of them have begun sending me registered letters, I’m sorry to say. Thank you, Agnes,” she said to the girl. “Better get back to the window. There might still be a few latecomers.”

“I hope so, Mrs. Smith.”

Maggie Smith lowered her glasses to read the address on the front of Shayne’s envelope. “Michael Shayne, Miami, Florida.”

“Are you busy?” Shayne said. “Can the theatre get along without you for half an hour?”

“I’m not exactly busy, but I’m working in a new actress in the lead, and I have to stay within shouting distance. I think I can squeeze you in backstage.” As they started around the building, Shayne remarked, “How’s business, not so hot?”

“Business is lousy. We got rave reviews and the few people who’ve seen the play are crazy about it. I hope we can keep it open so it can find its audience.” She glanced at him. “I really doubt if you’d like it.”

“Thanks,” Shayne said with a grin.

Her arm grazed his as they turned the corner, and he grounded some of the electricity she was carrying around. He didn’t like what he had heard about her, and for her part, she must have known that he was bringing bad news. Nevertheless, the flow of current continued. It was something she obviously couldn’t help, and she might not even know it was happening. It was simple, uncomplicated sensuality, and Shayne told himself that he had better drop his bomb fast and get the hell back to Miami.

They went up two steps and through a fire door that had been propped open. A thin actress with green eyelids, puffing almost desperately on a cigarette, flattened herself against the wall to let them pass.

“Where did you find him, Maggie?” she said.

“Never you mind. You concentrate on your lines. Don’t hurry them tonight. Those pauses are vital.”

She took Shayne into a small office, which had barely room enough in it for a littered desk and two chairs. The walls were covered with theatrical posters and autographed photographs. None of the faces in the photographs was familiar to Shayne. If they were famous, it was in a world he knew nothing about.

She closed the door carefully. “The good thing about this building is that it’s solid. I can yell at you in here and nobody’ll hear me.”

Shayne cleared a corner of the desk and planted his hip on it. “Yelling won’t help, Mrs. Smith.” He took his unlighted cigarette out of his mouth. “I don’t suppose smoking’s allowed.”

“Go ahead. It’s against fire regulations, but maybe the best thing I can do for this theatre is burn it down.”

His lighter flared. She picked a cigarette out of a pack by the phone, and let him light it for her.

She sat down behind the desk, first moving a small pile of bound typescripts. “If this is blackmail, I don’t see how I can make it worth your while. I’m not just broke. I owe money all over town. Or isn’t it money you want?”

“I want some cooperation, Mrs. Smith.” He took the envelope from her and tore it into quarters, then dropped them in a heavy glass ashtray and set them on fire. “Is the name of the boat and the name of the guy enough, or do you want the rest of it?”

“I think I’d better hear a little more,” she said evenly. “Because there’s always a chance you’re bluffing isn’t there?”

“The man who arranged it was a fixer named Sam Toby. A corporation he was working for wanted a favorable ruling from the Wage-Hour Division in the Labor Department. The cruise lasted nine days. After you got back-”

“That’s enough,” she said. “I won’t ask you where you got this because I know you wouldn’t tell me. I just hope it’s not in the public domain.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose hard between her thumb and forefinger. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop seeing Senator Hitchcock.”

Her eyes opened. “So Trina sent you. I don’t like to think unpleasant thoughts about anybody, but Trina Hitchcock is one person I think civilization could easily do without. I wouldn’t have said she was your type, either.”

“Few of my clients are,” Shayne said. “I don’t let it bother me.”

“Are you a lawyer?”

“No, a private detective. She thought it would be better to have it handled by somebody from out of town.”

Maggie hit the desk a hard blow with her knuckles. “I didn’t think she’d go this far! I knew she didn’t approve, she hasn’t made any secret of that, but my God! Usually it’s the parent who’s possessive! Do you know how Emory has been spending his evenings the last few years? Bookbinding. That’s a restful hobby, and he actually does very good work. But it’s not too stimulating.”

“I’m sure you’re an improvement over bookbinding, Mrs. Smith.”

“I want to tell you something. I don’t know what’s wrong with Trina, but sometimes I think it’s fairly major. Her father is serious about being a senator. He works hard, and he’s good at it. I don’t agree with all his ideas, but they’re his own and nobody else’s. He’s never made five cents over his government salary. He doesn’t give a damn about popularity inside the Club.”

“That’s why I think he deserves a break.”

“You can’t think that. So long as he lets his daughter decide whom he can see and whom he can’t, he’s in danger of drying up, of turning into a self-indulgent, crotchety old man. I don’t like to pat myself on the back, but he’s changed in the last few weeks. He’s started enjoying himself for the first time in years.”

“You still don’t get the idea,” Shayne said wearily. “I wasn’t hired to argue with you. We want this broken off, and it has to happen right away.”

After a moment’s silence, breathing out a mouthful of smoke, she said, “Tell Trina I said to go to hell.”

“OK,” Shayne said. “Any other message?”

“Mr. Shayne, look! He’s beginning to break out of his cocoon. That sounds corny, but it happens to be true. How do you think he’ll feel, or doesn’t that matter?”

“Don’t leave it up to Trina to tell him. Break off with him yourself and he won’t have to know about those nine days in the Caribbean.”

“Oh, it must be wonderful to be so sure you’re right! Well, I’m going to fight you. This happened eight years ago, when I was a different person, and I think Emory will be able to understand that. I have a chance.”

“Maybe, if it was between you and Hitchcock. But I’m in on it, and I’m here to make sure you lose. Unless you back out, and I mean as of now, I’ll draw up a memo giving the full facts of that Caribbean cruise, and run it through the copier. I’ll get Miss Hitchcock to tell me where to send the copies. Does your theatre have a board of trustees? That would be the logical place to start. And shell have other ideas.”

She stared at him. “It’s too bad you didn’t grow up in Germany. You could have had a wonderful career under Hitler.”

“Never mind the remarks. First you say yes, and then we’ll figure out how to make it stick. I think you’d better leave town for a while.”

“You filthy bastard.” She drew a deep shuddering breath. “You’re right-I don’t want that story circulated among my trustees. Oddly enough, I think I could explain it to Emory. He’s a human being.”

“I know it’s been beautiful,” Shayne said sarcastically. “And now it’s over.”

Her voice trembled. “I made a bad mistake once, and I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion I’d have to pay for it someday. Exactly what do you suggest I do?”