Brett Halliday - Never Kill a Client

“I will, Shayne. Boal. Dirkson Boal. You can’t deny that you’ve dealt with him in the past. As soon as he came into the O’Keefe picture, masterfully arranging a pardon for the man, I knew you were behind it.”

Boal? Dirkson Boal? Sure, Shayne knew the man. Half the population of Miami knew him… by reputation, if not personally. He was a shyster, but an important shyster. He represented not only important personages from the underworld, but also had high-reaching connections into the state’s political hierarchy. If Boal had a hand in fixing O’Keefe’s pardon…?

Shayne laughed hollowly. “You call that proof, Rexforth? Sure, I’ve dealt with Boal. So has every other private dick in the city. You still haven’t placed O’Keefe in my office yesterday. Or me, either, for that matter. My secretary told you the truth yesterday morning. I had flown to California. I did not get back until six o’clock this morning, and I came direct to your hotel as soon as I received your messages. What does that do to all your assumptions about collusion between O’Keefe and me?”

“If your statements were true, they would knock my assumptions into a cocked hat,” conceded Rexforth coldly. “I happen to know they aren’t true, Shayne. I can prove they’re not. If you force me to do so, I will… to the police.”

“What can you prove?” Shayne goaded him.

“That you weren’t in California yesterday, but were waiting in your office for Julius O’Keefe’s anticipated arrival a little after four o’clock… when he did arrive.”

“How do you propose to prove a thing like that?”

“Mr. Shayne,” Rexforth protested. “I am not a complete fool. I have had a great deal of experience with affairs of this nature, and I leave very little to chance. Even though I was positive in my own mind that you had made the sort of arrangement with O’Keefe that I have outlined and that he would come straight here from prison to join forces with you to get the stolen money, I did not take anything for granted. Naturally, knowing the time of O’Keefe’s scheduled release, I had him shadowed by a trusted man from the moment he left the gates of the prison.”

Shayne muttered, “Good for you,” recalling that Will Gentry was trying to get exactly that information, and realizing that Will would be willing to give a good deal for what the bonding company man could tell him.

“Then you know where O’Keefe stopped on his way to Miami… whom he contacted?”

“I do.” Rexforth lifted his glasses from his nose and smiled a wintry smile. “No one. Not one single person. He was a single-minded person, Shayne. He didn’t attempt to cover his tracks or mislead anyone. I suppose that both you and he assumed he was completely anonymous after this long period in prison… that no one could possibly be interested in him or his movements after all these years.”

He replaced his glasses and his voice became happily venomous. “Neither of you reckoned on me. I never forget a case. I’ve told you this one had become a personal issue with me. Neither of you realized that, of course. You felt perfectly safe from observation after all these years. So my man hadn’t the slightest difficulty tailing O’Keefe all the way from the prison directly to the door of your office… and he will so testify in court, if necessary… swearing that O’Keefe did not stop on the way or carry on a conversation with anyone.”

Shayne said, through his teeth, “What else is your man ready to testify to in court?”

“Why… that you and your secretary left your office together about five o’clock and proceeded to a rendezvous in a motel room, Mr. Shayne. If you really want that fact testified to in court.”

Michael Shayne sat very still and stared at the little man sitting in his rumpled pajamas on the side of the hotel bed while his racing mind sought to assimilate what Rexforth had just said.

He knew, of course, that he had not been in Miami at five o’clock the preceding afternoon… and he had a pretty strong hunch that another man had been in his office impersonating him. In fact, it was a lot more than a hunch, now that he had listened to Rexforth’s story.

Up to this point he hadn’t been able to think of a single plausible reason for anyone to lure him away from his office and plant another man there to pretend to be him. Now, Rexforth had supplied the motive.

With a hundred grand of stolen money at stake, presumably cached in Miami some years ago, there was a perfect motive.

No. He hadn’t left his office at five. But what about Lucy? What had they done about her? Had they managed to convince her somehow, with some wildly preposterous story, to play along with the hoax… to allow O’Keefe to interview another man in Shayne’s private office whom he thought to be Shayne?

That part of the impersonation wouldn’t have been difficult. They would have used the same man who had established his identity in O’Keefe’s mind by two previous visits to the prison.

But again, what about Lucy?

And the murder of O’Keefe with her filing spindle thrust into his heart right in front of her desk?

When his thoughts reached this point, he said to Rexforth slowly, “I think you had better amplify that last statement… with the understanding that I am prepared to prove I was in Los Angeles at that particular time.”

“I don’t know what sort of proof you have cooked up, Mr. Shayne, but I doubt that it will stand up against the direct testimony of a trained observer like my man Brenner. Certainly I will amplify it if you wish. It is one more of the trumps I hold. An ace this time.

“I have stated that Brenner followed O’Keefe directly to your office from the prison gates without losing sight of him once. He was in the elevator with O’Keefe, and got off behind him on the second floor. He followed him down the corridor, watched him enter an office with your name on the door, and passed by behind him in time to catch a glimpse of your secretary seated at her desk and smiling a welcome at O’Keefe. Then the outer door was shut.

“That was shortly after four o’clock, Mr. Shayne. I haven’t the exact time, but it will be carefully noted on Brenner’s written report when he submits it. He loitered on the second floor for a time, keeping the closed door of your office under observation with O’Keefe inside. Then, not wishing to become conspicuous, and quite properly in my opinion, he returned to the ground floor and took up a position where he could observe everyone who came out of either elevator.

“O’Keefe did not show up… nor did you or your secretary. He had a newspaper picture of you and a physical description, of course, which I had supplied him with before sending him on the assignment, and he had seen your secretary through the open door.

“At five o’clock, or shortly thereafter, when none of the three of you had shown in the lobby, he chose a moment when both elevators were going up empty, and rode up to the second floor again to see what the situation was. He had scarcely stepped out of the elevator when the door of your office opened and you emerged, Mr. Shayne, with your secretary directly behind you. He turned his back and pressed the Down button, and rode down in the elevator with the two of you.

“At that moment he didn’t know what had become of O’Keefe, but he knew there were stairs, of course, and he quickly assumed that you had cautiously sent your client down by those stairs before locking up for the night. It was the sort of precaution, he knew, that a smart detective like you might well insist on.

“At the moment, Brenner had no recourse except to follow you. He did so. Out the front door, in the stream of home-going office workers, and around the corner where you and the young lady got into a car that was parked there. Brenner was lucky enough to hail an empty taxi in time to follow you. He trailed you to a motel west of town on the Tamiami Trail, and observed you drive in and go directly into the carport attached to one of the cabins.