Brett Halliday - Murder and the Married Virgin

Shayne said, “I want to see the boss. Is this his office?”

The big man nodded. “He’s busy. You’ll hafta wait.”

Shayne said, “I haven’t got time,” impatiently, and made a forward move to shoulder the man out of his way.

The man’s eyes glittered. He shoved Shayne back with his left hand and brought his other hand out of his pocket gripping a pair of brass knucks.

Shayne shifted quickly to the left and landed a blow on the bottom of the man’s chin. The man staggered backward, his eyes bewildered, and swung a ponderous right with the knucks.

Shayne stepped aside and hit him on the side of the jaw. His weight helped carry the man to the floor. Shayne turned the knob and swung the Private sign inward.

Four men looked at him as he closed the door. Two were seated at a desk and the other two were leaning forward with their hands on the desk as though they had been listening intently.

Dan Trueman sat facing the door. He took a cigar from his mouth and looked at the intruder with mild surprise. The man who sat across from him had to turn in his chair to see Shayne. He was a big man who had no eyebrows or lashes, and his mouth was very small. He looked smart and cruel. The other two men were young and slender and looked like cokies.

Trueman said, “I guess you’ve made a mistake. This is a private office.” He enunciated his words carefully as one speaks to a dimwit or a drunkard.

Shayne said, “If you’re the boss here I’d like to speak to you a minute.”

“If you’ve got a beef,” said Trueman, “it’ll have to wait. How did you talk Tige into letting you in?”

“I persuaded him.” Shayne blew on his bruised knuckles. “This’ll only take a minute, Trueman.”

Dan Trueman said, “He must be tough, boys. Take him out and keep him out till I’m through with Nolan.”

The two gunmen straightened up and turned toward him. Shayne didn’t look at them. He was watching Trueman as he said, “I’m Shayne.”

Trueman’s eyes narrowed. Then he smiled faintly. “Mike Shayne?”

“That’s right.”

Trueman said, “Skip it, boys. Go out and see about Tige. Tell him to throw those knucks away or learn to use them.” He waited until the two young men had gone out. He blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling and gazed at it, saying softly, “I’ve heard of you, Shayne. What’s on your mind?”

Shayne glanced at the big man sitting in front of Trueman. The proprietor of the Laurel Club said, “Don’t mind Jim Nolan. He’s my attorney and knows more about my business than I do.” He smiled disarmingly.

Shayne said, “I’ve got emeralds on my mind.”

“Is it a disease?” asked Trueman.

“You phoned me this afternoon offering to sell a necklace.”

Trueman shook his head. “Come again. I’m no jeweler.”

“These emeralds are hot. So damned hot they’re going to burn somebody.”

“Nor a fence,” Trueman told him quietly.

Shayne rubbed his jaw, then his mouth spread in a grin but his eyes were cold. “I don’t make mistakes. Maybe you’re handling it for another party.”

“If I were, what would you want me to tell him?”

“Just this. He’d better get out from under because I’m after that necklace. There’ll be no buy from the insurance company.”

“No?” Trueman crossed his legs and sat up straight in his chair, his elongated eyes considering-Shayne. “If you’re talking about the Lomax thing-I was reading about it in the papers.”

“Let’s say I am talking about the Lomax emeralds.”

“I hear it was insured for a hundred and twenty-five thousand,” Trueman purred. “A company hates to put out that kind of money if it can be bought back for, say, forty. No-if I knew the party who had it I’d advise him to hang on for a time.”

Shayne’s laugh was sour. “And you’d be right nine times out of ten. But wrong this once. My company’s got a legal out if it comes to that.”

“So?” Trueman seemed only mildly interested.

“We don’t want to take it. We’d rather recover the stuff and I expect to. But I want you to get this straight-there’ll be no buy.”

Trueman looked inquiringly across the desk at his lawyer.

“Does this talk make sense, Jim?”

“What sort of legal out?” Nolan spoke for the first time since Shayne had entered, and he kept his back turned. The sounds emitting from his small mouth were thin and high, almost a falsetto.

“Negligence of the insured,” Shayne told the lawyer’s fat back. “It’s open and shut. So much so that Lomax admitted it to me privately this afternoon. But his wife is stubborn. To avoid losing a lawsuit Lomax even offered to advance the money himself to cover the loss. That’s how much we’re in the clear.”

“Why bring this story to me?” Trueman asked.

Shayne stepped up to the desk and looked down into Trueman’s eyes and said quietly, “Just so you’ll know where you stand. I don’t like misunderstandings about a thing like this. I’ve been in the middle of some fixes and I hope to be in the middle of a lot more. But not this time. And I don’t want any howl of a double-cross going up. I’m beginning to light a fire and somebody’s going to get burned.”

“Are you all through talking?” Dan Trueman bared his teeth.

“That’s all I’ve got to say.” Shayne turned and the outer door opened.

Tige filled the doorway and the pair of youthful torpedoes were behind him. Tige licked his thick lips hungrily. He had taken the knucks off but both big fists were doubled.

Trueman made a quick motion and said sharply, “Let the boys handle this, Tige.”

Tige looked disappointed, but he stepped aside. Trueman got up and followed as Shayne went to the door. The two gunmen stayed outside.

Trueman said, “Take him all the way out to the sidewalk, boys.” Then raised his voice, “Don’t be rough with him if you can help it, but I’m tired of listening to the beefs of a bum loser. Don’t come here to play, Shayne, unless you can afford to lose your three dollars and fifty cents.”

Shayne stopped on the threshold. The two gunsels waited for him on each side of the doorway, gun-hands bulging in their coat pockets. The three were targets for amused glances from the patrons in the rear barroom.

Shayne said, “All right, Trueman. I’ll go out this time without making any trouble. Next time I come back it’ll be different.”

He went out and through the room, sauntering along with the two lads keeping pace a little to each side and slightly behind him. He went straight through the foyer and out the front door, stopped and took a quick backward step as he reached the threshold. He swung both arms back and brought them up in a wide circle that slapped an open palm on the outside of each gunsel’s head. He brought the heads together in front of him with enough force to knock them dizzy, then slid his hands downward and wrested their gun-hands from their pockets.

Twisting a. 32 automatic from the lad on his left, he tripped the one on his right and he fell sprawling. Shayne pocketed one gun and shoved the owner forward, stooped and picked up the other from the floor, saying, “Tell Dan Trueman to give you some more toys to play with,” and strode back to the cocktail lounge.

Lana was waiting for him in a booth near the door wearing a long black velvet coat with a platinum fox collar over her dinner gown. She got up and came toward him fastening her wrap.

Shayne frowned and said, “I thought we were going to celebrate.”

Lana’s tawny eyes held a brooding look and her full mouth drooped sullenly at the corners, as though she had grown impatient, almost angry, waiting for him. Her expression changed as she slid a gloved hand under his arm. “If we’re going to do any real celebrating, Red, I’d rather do it at home,” she said softly, smiling up at him with her eyes wide and candid.