Brett Halliday - The Violent World of Michael Shayne

Shayne’s foot touched the little.25. He stepped aside, as though to give Hitchcock room, and kicked the gun under the desk. He was thinking quickly. They had met only once. The light was dim, and there was a chance that Hitchcock might not recognize him. He wasn’t sure if his face was bleeding and he was careful not to touch it to find out. Maggie had more color than usual, and she was breathing too rapidly. More than that, the atmosphere in the room was still electric with emotion. Hitchcock must be aware that something had been going on.

“How do you do,” Hitchcock said without looking at Shayne. He made a clumsy motion with the flowers. “Shall I leave these here or-”

“Emory, they’re lovely,” Maggie said automatically, taking them. “I tried to call you. I’m terribly, terribly sorry, but I’ll have to take a rain check on tonight. I have a ghastly headache. The worst.”

“My dear, I’m sorry,” Hitchcock said, concerned. He sent a sharp glance at Shayne, looking for some connection between this tall, rugged stranger and Maggie’s headache. “It’s Mike Shayne!” he exclaimed. “I thought you said Wayne.”

“Glad to see you, Senator,” Shayne said gruffly.

Hitchcock put out his hand. He looked pleased for only a moment. His foot crunched on broken glass and his eyes narrowed. He looked at Maggie, then at the broken picture on the wall.

“What brings you to Washington, Mike?”

“It’s a long story,” Shayne said, improvising. “I’ve been trying to pick up some leads on one of our local hoods who’s on the run. I was told that one of the actresses here used to shack up with him, but it turns out to be somebody else with the same last name.”

This was the best he could do on a moment’s notice, and he knew it didn’t sound convincing. Hitchcock seemed to accept it. He nodded and turned back to Maggie.

“Maggie, dear, reconsider. It’s tension that gives you those headaches, and right here in this building is where the tension starts. Come on, hop in the car. We’ll put down the windows and let the wind blow it away. I thought we could go out to that place we liked in Pine Grove. Champagne’s better than aspirin, and champagne and aspirin in combination are irresistible. If you don’t feel like conversation, I’ll keep quiet and just look at you.”

“You make it sound wonderful, Emory.” She closed her eyes again and pinched the bridge of her nose. “But I can’t tonight. I’m going home and collapse.”

“I confess I’m disappointed,” Hitchcock said. “For selfish reasons. I won’t be home a minute before the phone will start ringing-somebody from The New York Times wanting to know about the hearings tomorrow. The subject of Sam Toby is beginning to bore me stiff. Mike!” he said suddenly. “What are doing right now? Come home with me and I’ll give you a drink.”

“I’d like to, Senator, but I’ve got to hit a couple more places before I call it a night.”

“One drink. I have some good cognac. I’d like to hear more about this hoodlum you’re chasing.”

“All right, sir. Five minutes, and then I’ll have to duck out.”

“Don’t call me sir. I get enough of that on the Hill. Maggie, tomorrow night maybe I can talk you into skipping all three acts. They know their lines by now-let them stew in their own juice. Sleep well, dear.”

He took her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead lightly. Her eyes caught Shayne’s and skidded away.

“Emory,” she said with difficulty, “there’s a chance I may have to go to New York tomorrow morning. I’ll phone you. Good luck with the hearings.”

“No problem there,” he said. “Sam Toby will prove to be a little too fast on his feet as usual and we won’t lay a glove on him. What people don’t realize is that just because everybody knows there’s something fishy about that contract does not necessarily mean we can prove it. I’ve adjusted to that, finally, and it doesn’t surprise me. It still seems to surprise The New York Times. Coming, Mike?”

Shayne followed. The Senator was out in the poorly lit corridor when Maggie whispered, “Mike.”

Shayne stopped. She drove her knuckles viciously into his kidneys from behind. He drew in his breath sharply, and tried to smile as Hitchcock looked around.

“I hope your box office picks up,” Shayne told her. “Sorry I bothered you for nothing.”

“Are you?” she said.

Hitchcock had parked his black Lincoln in a no-parking space near the entrance to the alley. Shayne opened the door for him.

“I rented a car. It’s around here somewhere, and I might be able to find it. I’ll follow you.”

Hitchcock reached into the back seat for the phone. “How much truth was there in that rigamarole you gave me about chasing somebody, Mike?”

Shayne tried a grin. “Not much, and I didn’t think you swallowed it. But I thought I was going to have a couple of minutes to myself to think up something better.”

Hitchcock worked the dial in the base of the handset. He put the phone to his ear and waited.

“Trina?” he snapped. “Don’t go out, please. I’ve changed my plans. I’ll be home in a minute, and I’d like to talk to you.”

He put the phone back without saying goodbye, and said to Shayne, “For the first minute and a half I thought I’d walked in on a clinch. It wasn’t pleasant. Maggie is a very desirable woman, and I’m painfully aware of the difference in our ages. But that was anger I saw in her face, wasn’t it? She’d just thrown an ashtray at you? I’ve been in this rough-and-tumble business long enough to learn how to look after myself. I have a switch I turn off when things get too intense. But that’s something Maggie hasn’t had to learn. She’s an important person to me, Mike, and I don’t want her hurt. Think it over. I’ll wait here till I see your car.”

“All right, sir,” Shayne said wearily.

Hitchcock’s tone sharpened. “Stop calling me sir.”

Shayne found his Ford and drove it back to the entrance of the little alley. He blinked his lights at Hitchcock’s Lincoln, which pulled out and passed him. Hitchcock crouched forward, as though over the wheel of a low-slung racer. He was surprisingly aggressive in traffic, and Shayne had a hard time keeping him in sight. They were somewhere in Georgetown, he knew, but he couldn’t keep track of the turns. In Q Street, the Senator braked to a violent stop alongside a brick wall. Shayne slid the Ford in behind him.

Hitchcock met him on the sidewalk. “Before I start shouting at my daughter I’d better make sure. I hoped she and Maggie would hit it off, but I know it hasn’t worked. Trina has exalted ideas about how senators ought to behave. It’s strange, considering the number of senators she knows. I take it she hired you to see to it that Maggie has a headache from now on when I want to take her to supper?”

“I can’t answer that,” Shayne said. “I admit she threw an ashtray at me, but maybe it had nothing to do with you.”

“I doubt it, somehow,” Hitchcock said. “Another thing I’ve gotten used to is witnesses who stand on the Fifth Amendment and refuse to answer.”

He unlocked a door in the wall and stood aside to let Shayne precede him into a small garden, lighted by an antique gas lamppost that had been converted to electricity. The house was built of weathered brick. It was solid and handsome, and looked old. As Hitchcock opened the front door Trina half-ran into the broad hall to meet them.

She gave Shayne a disgusted look, which told Hitchcock what he wanted to know. Then she bore down on her father.

“Daddy, don’t fly off the handle! You know what the doctor said about not getting excited.”

“I’m holding myself in quite well, wouldn’t you say, Mike?” Hitchcock said. “All I want now are the answers to one or two questions, such as why and what weapons did you use against her and who’s paying Mike’s fee.”