Brett Halliday - Murder Takes No Holiday

The redhead nodded somberly.

“But how did it happen?” she said. “Did something go wrong with the plane?”

Shayne shook his head. “Alvarez got him on the phone just before he took off. He told him he’s holding you as hostage, and warned him not to leave if he wanted to see you again.”

She breathed out in a kind of shudder. “And Paul stayed? Thank God.”

She went on quickly, “There’s something I haven’t told you, Michael. It’s mixed up with the rest in a queer way, I don’t know how. He’s been seeing another woman, apparently for some time. I only found out about it yesterday. Oh, things have been quite hectic around here for the last twenty-four hours. At the end he promised to give up both the smuggling and the girl, but I’m not sure I believed him. That’s the real reason I didn’t go to the airport. I was wrung dry. But Michael-if he knows that Alvarez suspects him of doing this crazy thing, he must know how dangerous it is to stay on the island.” She turned her head. “And if in spite of that he stayed-”

She sat erect and said briskly, “What are we going to do about it, Michael?”

“We’ll try to put him back on the plane. Alvarez told him to go to some place in the country. A cab from the airport could make it in half an hour. Does that mean anything to you?”

She moved her head, frowning. “I don’t understand. How do you know all this, Michael? And you said you were there when Alvarez was robbed. You haven’t got into trouble on my account, have you?”

Shayne grinned at her. “Nothing serious.”

Her breath caught, and her face was suddenly flooded with comprehension. “He’s waiting downstairs!”

She swung off the bed and went to the window, approaching it cautiously from one side. Drawing back the curtain a few inches, she peeped out.

“Two cars,” she said quietly, turning. “Yes, of course. Before Paul puts his head in the noose he’ll want to make sure that Alvarez isn’t bluffing.”

“That’s right. So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll tell Alvarez I talked you into coming with me, but something made you suspicious and you gave me the slip. Get out by the back door. Steal somebody’s bike and get as far as you can in five minutes. Then stay out of sight. Maybe Paul will have sense enough to keep clear. If he doesn’t, he’ll have an easier time holding up under the pressure if you aren’t around.”

“Michael, wait a minute. Did you say half an hour from the airport? It seems to me Paul once pointed out a driveway that went in to a wonderful modern house, and said something mysterious about the wages of sin. I’ll just bet-it must be!” she exclaimed, becoming excited. “Michael, he’ll wait downstairs, won’t he? Alvarez? If we could get a taxi, maybe we could get there ahead of him and warn Paul.”

Shayne snapped his fingers. “All right, we’ll try it. Get your clothes on.”

She ran to the closet and snatched a skirt and blouse off a hanger. She pulled open bureau drawers. Carrying the bundle of clothes, she hurried to the bathroom.

“Leave the door open,” Shayne called. “I’ve got some more questions to ask you. Did you or Paul know Albert Watts?”

“Who?” she said behind the partly closed door. “You mean the Englishman who was killed?”

“That’s the one. Did he have any connection with the smuggling?”

“I’m trying to think,” she answered after a brief pause. “I don’t see how. He had some kind of job with a tourist agency, didn’t he? A strange little man with a mustache, a very fat wife. I was maneuvered into dancing with him once-quite against his will. He suffered agonies because we hadn’t been properly introduced. I thought it was terribly sad. Such a conventional little man, and then to be killed in such a disreputable and unconventional way. I’m hurrying, Michael.”

Suddenly she appeared in the open doorway, looking at Shayne, aghast. She put on the skirt and had an arm in one sleeve of the blouse.

“Michael, you don’t think Paul had any connection with that!”

Shayne lit a cigarette and spoke around it, his eyes squinting against the smoke. “Watts made a trip to Miami to find out how much the customs service pays informants. A little later Malloy got a cable from him, fingering Paul Slater. That’s how Paul happened to get arrested. When all Malloy’s boys could find were a few measly watch movements, they wrote Watts down as a nut, without much sense of proportion, and didn’t give Paul a real hard look. If it hadn’t been for those watch movements, Paul would have been followed around every second he was in the States. Then Watts was stabbed before he could collect his two-bit fee.”

Martha abruptly became aware of being only partially dressed, and disappeared. Her voice came through the opening. “And Jack thinks-”

“What else could he think? The cops here don’t know about the cable. Jack wanted to see what I could find out, if anything, before he turned it over. And as soon as he does, they’ll pull Paul in and hit him with it. This is pretty rough on you, but you might as well know it now.”

She opened the door again, buttoning her blouse. “But Michael,” she said beseechingly, “he was drunk, wasn’t he? The paper said they took a blood test. Everybody says he must have got into a fight in some bar. He belonged to that idiotic committee that’s so down on the natives, and he made some belligerent remark while he was drinking, and a native followed him out to the street and they fought.”

“All that is possible,” Shayne said, “but after the cops hear about the cable to Malloy, they won’t think it’s very likely. And there are two points about that five hundred dollar fine. If a pigeon like Watts can give away a small shipment, he can give away a big one. And Malloy has a wild idea that Paul was bringing in something big that they didn’t catch. The watch movements were a decoy.”

Martha tucked in her blouse, laughing shortly. “Wild idea is right. You can tell Jack from me that Paul is very definitely in the minor-leagues as a smuggler, or else it’s a well-kept secret. Seriously, Michael, this is something I really think I’d know. I know that keeping two women at one time can run into money, but goodness-I could show you his socks. I don’t mean to sound frivolous, but he doesn’t have a whole pair to his name. His shorts are ready for the ragbag. And as for murdering anybody-no.” She shook her head. “That is something you must stop thinking about. I said I was sure he couldn’t lie in wait for somebody and hit him from behind. If there was enough money at stake, and he thought he wouldn’t get caught, maybe he could talk himself into trying it. But something would go wrong. He’d swing an instant too soon or an instant too late, if he could do it at all. And I’m glad he’s that kind of person.”

“The killing was a week ago Wednesday,” Shayne said. “Sometime between six, when Watts left his office, and twelve-thirty the next morning. Do you know where Paul was during that time?”

She smiled. “Of course. Sometimes we go our separate ways in the daytime, but we always meet for dinner and spend the evening together. We have a dozen favorite picnic spots-picnics aren’t as expensive as eating in restaurants! Every now and then, once every two or three weeks, perhaps, one of us goes out on a buying or a scouting trip. But last week-”

She was putting on a pair of high-heeled shoes. She straightened suddenly, her face very still. “Well, one day last week-it wasn’t Wednesday. But I can look it up.”

She put on her second shoe and went to the little drop-leaf desk. There she rummaged about until she found an engagement calendar. Her back was turned to Shayne, but the redhead knew what she had found even before she swung around to face him.