Brett Halliday - A Taste for Violence

Shayne meditatively puffed on his cigarette and listened to the sound of the river and the chirping crickets and wondered how Lucy was getting along with her two Kentucky cavaliers.

“Did you see George in jail?” Elsa asked suddenly.

“Didn’t you guess that was why I got myself locked up?”

“Yes. I guessed that.”

“I talked to him,” Shayne said quietly.

“How is he?”

Shayne thought he detected eagerness or anxiety in her tone. He turned quickly to look at her. She was leaning farther forward, her chin on her hands, her eyes staring straight ahead. He said, “Seems well enough. Quite cheerful, in fact. He’s not worrying about the murder charge. I got the impression he has a couple of aces up his sleeve.”

“Does he know… about the men he was trusting to give him an alibi?” Anxiety was definitely in her voice now.

“I told him that angle was shot. It didn’t seem to perturb him very much. He’s…” Shayne paused, groping for the right words to describe George Brand’s attitude. “… very sure of himself. Not vain, but with the certitude of a man who knows exactly the odds against him and how to beat them.”

She said, “I know,” in a stifled voice. She raised her head suddenly and beat one doubled fist against the steering wheel. “I’m frightened, Mr. Shayne. I don’t know what to do. I had to talk to someone. From the things Jimmy and Seth said about you I gathered…” She hesitated, turning toward him.

“What,” asked Shayne, “did you gather?”

“That you’re tough and hardboiled, but basically honest. Seth and Mr. Persona had an argument about it after you left. Seth doesn’t trust you.”

“Doesn’t trust me to give my all for AMOK,” he amplified.

“Yes. He insists it would be safer to get you out of town.”

“Do the police take orders from Seth Gerald?”

“Why I… not exactly orders, but…”

“I understand,” Shayne interrupted grimly. “I noticed the way they scratched the charge against me on your say-so. Did Gerald make a phone call after I left?”

“I don’t… know,” she faltered. “I went to my room while he and Mr. Persona were still arguing.”

“Why are you frightened?” Shayne demanded.

“Because… it’s all so… terrible. This hatred… and burning… and killing. I want to do what’s right. You must believe me. I do. But I don’t know what to do or who to tell.”

“That’s why you kidnaped me and brought me here,” he reminded her.

“I can’t tell you… if Mr. Persona is right about you.”

“You mean if I’m the sort of guy to sell out for his five grand. I’m not.”

“I want to believe you,” she declared. “Things are all mixed up. I’ve been an awful damned fool, Mr. Shayne.”

“In what way?”

“You can’t imagine the… the mess I’m in. If I say a word, Jimmy threatens to come right out and accuse me of having taken George Brand as my lover. And that would make things look worse for him, don’t you see? Jimmy says it would provide the one thing they need to convict George… a motive.”

“Was he your lover?” Shayne demanded harshly.

“No. There was nothing… really. Just that I was bored with Charles. He was always too busy to take me out, and he didn’t think it was right for us to go dancing while the men were on strike and hungry, and he disapproved of my drinking, too.” Her voice trailed off listlessly.

“And you enjoyed playing with fire,” Shayne said brutally.

Elsa Roche shivered. “I… what do you mean?”

“The world is full of women like you. Too rich and too bored and too dumb. You were attracted to George Brand just as a debutante might be attracted to her chauffeur.”

“No!” she cried. “That’s not true. You’ve no right to talk to me like that.” She turned the ignition key and pressed the button to start the motor.

Shayne said, “Hold it,” and took the key from the ignition. “How far did this affair with Brand go? How many people knew about it?” Shayne demanded.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped. “Give me that key.”

“Okay,” said Shayne lazily. “It’s your funeral… and Brand’s.” He replaced the key in the ignition.

Elsa laid her face on her hands that were clasped together on the wheel. Her body slumped wearily. “Nobody actually knows… about George and me… except Jimmy. But I think Seth has suspected… for some time.”

Shayne groaned and said, “You’d better give it to me straight if I’m going to help any. Your nasty-natured little brother-in-law is perfectly correct in saying it would practically tie a knot around Brand’s neck if it’s proven that you and he were playing around together.”

“We weren’t… not that way. I’ve been with him exactly twice,” she went on with forced calm. “Both times I slipped away from a country club dance… where I’d gone with other people… and met him out beyond the parking lot and we drove to a roadside place and had a few drinks. And that’s absolutely all.”

“It’s enough,” Shayne muttered, “if anyone saw you.”

“But I’m sure no one recognized us.”

“Don’t worry. If this comes out you’ll find a dozen people who saw you together. Did your husband suspect?”

“No. Charles was a lamb. He wanted me to go out and have a good time.”

“But not clandestinely… with the man who was leading a strike against him.”

“No,” she admitted in a small voice. “I guess not. But I think Charles really liked George. I’m sure he admired him. He had agreed to his terms on ending the strike.”

“Are you positive?”

“Of course I’m positive. Charles showed me a copy of the agreement he’d signed… postdated on the day he was thirty and took control of the mines.”

“How many other people knew about that agreement?”

“No one. I’m sure Charles told no one. He made me swear I wouldn’t tell.”

“I suppose you realize how important this is as evidence in Brand’s favor. If it could be proved, it would absolutely kill the murder charge against him.”

“That’s what I thought. Except… Jimmy and Seth both said no one would ever believe me if I came out now and told it in George’s defense. On account of the way a lawyer would twist the other things around… to make it appear I was in love with him and just making it up about the agreement to save him.”

Shayne nodded thoughtfully. “We’d have to produce the agreement signed by your husband. Where is it?”

“That’s the trouble,” Elsa faltered. “Jimmy and Seth went through all his papers at home. They didn’t find it. I only saw the one copy… a few days ago. I think,” she went on faintly, “he was honestly afraid to let any of the others know about it before his birthday when he would be legally in control. You know. Because he was afraid they might…”

“Murder him before his birthday to prevent him from settling the strike?” Shayne supplied harshly when she hesitated.

“Yes. That’s it exactly.” She was sitting erect, and she turned her body to face him squarely, and continued earnestly, “You don’t know how fanatical they are, Mr. Shayne. You can’t imagine how they hate unions. They’ll spend hundreds of thousands to prevent the workers from getting a few thousands additional in their pay envelopes. I don’t understand it. I just can’t.”

Shayne was thoughtfully silent for a moment. It was too dark to see her expression, but she sounded sincere. He was puzzled, and tried to figure whether the drunken, hard-boiled woman he had met at the Roche house was the real Elsa Roche, or the woman who now sat beside him pleading for the miners. He frowned into the darkness and said: