Brett Halliday - Heads You Lose

Shayne went to the police car and rested his elbows on the door. “Got yourself a new job, Gary?”

“Yeh. Damned nursemaid,” he grumped. He spat with disgust through the opposite door. “Chief says I’m to ride herd on this guy. Ain’t supposed to let him out of my sight. Does that mean I have to sleep with him?”

Shayne grinned. “Maybe his wife’s good-looking and you can sleep between them,” he offered.

“Fat chance. Even if I get that break he’ll probably turn out to be a light sleeper. You figure they’ll try to get him, Mike? Account of he saw them two torpedoes.”

“I doubt it. Not if they can get me first. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Shayne went over to Carlton, who had taken the jack from under the wheel and was stowing it in his luggage compartment. “It looks as if you’ll be adequately protected, Mr. Carlton.”

Carlton nodded, brushing the knees of his trousers. “I don’t like to seem unduly worried, but I confess the protection of an officer will be welcome. It does seem to me,” he went on severely, “that no useful purpose was served by publishing my willingness to identify the murderers. I may have been overly enthusiastic listening to you and Chief Gentry speaking of patriotism. Those men had their hats pulled down low on their foreheads, and they looked very tough. What if I slipped up trying to do my duty?”

“Don’t worry,” Shayne said soothingly. “It’ll give them more reason to bump me off before I can show them to you for identification. I doubt whether they’ll bother you at all if they can get me out of the way. After all, I’m the only one who actually knows where to look for them. You’re not a danger to them unless they’re arrested and put into the lineup. If they are, I’ll see that they wear hats pulled low over their foreheads.”

“That’s some consolation,” Carlton agreed in a relieved voice. He came close to Shayne and asked, “Just between us, how much do you know, Mr. Shayne? I’ll admit I became confused listening to you and Chief Gentry arguing, but it seems to me if the filling station man told you anything definite, you’d be out after them right now.”

Shayne laughed lightly and cheerfully. “It isn’t that simple. I’ve got to do some checking. This is a big thing, and there are a lot of loose ends to be tied together to verify what Clem told me.”

“Oh, I see,” Carlton murmured. “I know nothing of such things, of course.”

Shayne put a hand on Carlton’s shoulder and said firmly, “I promise you it won’t be long, and I want you to know I appreciate what you’re doing. It would have been easy for you to have denied seeing the men. If more citizens would do their duty courageously we’d have less racketeering.”

Carlton squared his shoulders and his eyes were grateful, but his tone was deprecative when he said, “I’m afraid it wasn’t courage that prompted me. Frankly, I’m frightened. I’m a family man, Mr. Shayne, and have to consider others besides myself. But the evasion of rationing is, as you said, a vicious evil, and must be stamped out.”

“You’ve done a brave thing,” Shayne told him cheerfully, “whatever your motives were. But don’t worry. Gary will keep tabs on you,” he called on his way back to his car.

Shayne slid the gears in and rolled away.

Mrs. Wilson put a timid hand on his arm and asked, “How much did Clem tell you tonight, Mr. Shayne? Before he got shot?”

“Enough,” Shayne assured her, “to make certain his murderers won’t get away with it.”

Her hand trembled and tightened on his arm. “Was it… was it gas racketeers like you told the police?”

Shayne glanced at her wrinkled face. “I didn’t exactly tell the police that, but it all adds up… what you heard and the way Clem acted as soon as the car drove away.”

“You’re not… not keeping anything from me, are you, Mr. Shayne?” she asked in a faint voice. Her hand had slid back into her lap and her fingers intertwined.

“What makes you think I am keeping something from you, Mrs. Wilson?”

Her body trembled against him. “Oh, I don’t know. Oh, God! I don’t know.” She began to sob silently.

Shayne waited a while, then asked gently, “You’re not holding anything back from me, are you?”

“You mean… about tonight?” she asked between sobs.

“About tonight,” Shayne said. “You’re positive you didn’t see anyone or recognize the voices arguing with Clem? Didn’t he say anything to indicate who they were when he came in to ask my telephone number?”

She shivered. The night air was growing chilly. Shayne said, “You’re cold. Roll up your window and I’ll close mine part way.”

She fumbled for the handle and rolled her window up tight. “What… makes you think… I mighta recognized their voices?” she asked through chattering teeth.

“Are you sure you didn’t?” Shayne’s tone was suddenly firm.

“Yes… I’m certain sure.” She stopped sobbing and a nervousness twitched her emaciated body. “I’ll swear it… on my Bible. But… I wish you’d tell me who you think it was. Seems to me like… I’ve got the right to know… who killed Clem.”

“It’s very important for me not to tell what Clem told me,” Shayne said. “I couldn’t even tell Chief Gentry for fear he might bungle things trying to do his duty.”

“Why are you so dead set on keeping it to yourself?” she asked after a brief silence. “If anything happens to you there’d be nobody else could do much.”

“You’ll have to trust me.”

“You’ve been a good friend to us, Mr. Shayne. Clem was always that proud of the way you’d set and talk with ’im, and you were mighty good that time when Bob got in trouble. Oh, I do trust you.” Her voice shook with sincerity.

“Then let me handle this my own way. I’ve got the others to fight, and I know what I’m doing.”

Mrs. Wilson suddenly relaxed and her slight weight leaned against Shayne as though she sought warmth and strength from his body. “Tell me one thing,” she whispered. “You’re not keeping nothin’ back on account of friendship for Clem and me? Swear you’re not.”

Shayne felt her tense again and grow rigid against him. He frowned and said slowly, “I don’t believe I understand exactly what you mean, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I want to tell you this. Clem was a mighty good man. I reckon just about the best man any woman ever had to do for her. I don’t care who killed him. Do you hear me? I don’t care who done it… you’re not to protect ’im. I want he should pay for it.” Her voice rose to a hysterical note and she moved away from him, crouching against the opposite car door.

Shayne said soothingly, “Of course they will pay. I’ll see to that.”

His answer appeared to satisfy her. She sighed deeply and made herself comfortable against the cushions, drying her eyes with a man’s cotton handkerchief.

Shayne turned to the right off Tamiami Trail. He said, “How about Bob, Mrs. Wilson?”

“Bob? What… about Bob?” She stiffened to an upright position and her voice had a sharp ring.

“I mean about notifying him of his father’s death. If you’ll give me his address I’ll take care of it for you. Maybe he could get a furlough and come home.”

“I… I don’t know his address.” Her voice trembled and she continued to sit stiffly, her body bent slightly forward with her hands tightly clasped. “Bob was due to be shipped out to God knows where. That’s what he said in his last letter.”

“Yeh. I know. Clem told me a couple of weeks ago. But you have some address where he could be reached.”

“There’s a letter and some figures after his name,” she mumbled vaguely. “Care of the postmaster in New York, I think ’twas. But there’s no use tryin’ to let Bob know. He’s… most likely on the ocean right now.”