Brett Halliday - Shoot to Kill

“I jerked him back to take a crack at the door, but before I could hit it a gun was fired inside. I had to use my shoulder twice before that bolt gave. Ralph Larson was standing there with a smoking revolver in his hand. Wesley Ames was behind the desk as you saw him. Dead. At least he looked pretty dead to me. I took Ralph’s gun, but before I could check Ames your cops got here and Griffin took over. We all got out and Mr. Sutter was outside in the hall with the others… Mark Ames and Alfred. He said he’d been in his room when he heard the commotion. We all came downstairs and Alfred cleaned up the broken glass from his tray and brought us fresh drinks. That’s about it.”

Griggs glanced at Jimmy and got a nod from him. He said to Shayne, “Then it’s your testimony that Ralph Larson ran inside this house just ahead of you, knocked Mark Ames down and broke Alfred’s tray, ran upstairs and into Ames’ room where he bolted the door and shot him to death?”

Shayne said, “I assume that’s what happened. I wasn’t here and I haven’t stuck my nose into your case by asking any questions. All I know for certain is that Ralph Larson was inside that locked room with a smoking gun when I broke in. And that Ames was dead and Ralph said he’d killed him.”

“He admitted it, eh?”

“He boasted of it.”

Griggs turned to Rourke. “Anything to add to Mike’s story?”

“I can’t think of anything. That’s the way it was. But goddamn it, Sergeant, for the record I’d like to say that Ames deserved killing if any man ever did. He drove Ralph to it, and the kid was insane with jealousy. You heard him yourself, Mike. He said that Ames just sat there in his chair and laughed in his face when he said he was going to kill him. He was out of his mind when he did it. If there ever was a case of justifiable homicide…”

“All right, Rourke,” Griggs said impatiently. “We’re not trying the case here. Wait until you get in the witness chair. You two stick around until I see if any more questions come up. Send the brother in, huh? Mark Ames.”

Shayne got up hesitantly, “Do me a favor, Sergeant?”

“I don’t know, Mike. Will it cost me my arm?”

Shayne grinned, “Just let me sit back in one of those chairs behind the table out of the way and hear what these other people have to say.”

“What the hell for? It’s cut and dried, isn’t it? All we need to do is get the sequence of things straight.”

“I don’t know,” Shayne said slowly. “I guess I feel more or less responsible for that guy sitting out in the other room with the electric chair in front of him. If I’d paid more attention to Tim this afternoon this mightn’t have happened.”

“But you did pay attention to me, Mike. You went out and talked to Dorothy Larson as I asked.”

“But it wasn’t good enough,” Shayne reminded him grimly. “I should have talked to Ralph, too. Thrown him in jail, maybe. It sticks in my craw,” he went on explosively. “Our getting here just about one minute too late. If I’d got a little more speed out of that car of mine on the Boulevard…”

“If you’d gotten any more speed we’d probably both be dead along with Wesley Ames,” Rourke interrupted him.

“Anyhow let’s say I don’t like to walk out on something before it’s finished.” Shayne moved around the long table to an unobtrusive seat in the far corner.

Griggs said impatiently, “It’s okay by me.” He grinned at Rourke. “Probably just wants a lesson in how a real honest-to-God cop operates. So he can pass it on to his pal Brett Halliday next time he wants to write up one of his cases. That guy could use some lessons in police procedure all right. Ask Mark Ames to come in, Tim.”

“Sure.” Timothy Rourke was studying Shayne speculatively with very bright eyes. He nodded abruptly and said, “I’ll stick around and take a lesson, too, Sarge.” He went to the library door and called, “Ames.” Then came back and quietly seated himself at the other end of the long table from Shayne.

Mark Ames came in and seated himself quietly in the chair nearest the door. The sergeant said, “This is pretty informal and probably won’t even require a sworn statement. We’ll see about that later. Mark Ames, Jimmy. The dead man’s brother. Just tell me what you know about this, Ames.”

“Not much. I was sitting there in the living room waiting for Alfred to bring me a drink when a car came up the drive fast and the floodlights came on outside. They’re rigged up that way, with an electric eye at the gate that automatically turns them on when a car turns in. There’s also an electric signal system all around the place on top of the wall. Wes wasn’t taking any chances on uninvited visitors slipping into the premises.”

“Just a minute. Let’s go back for a touch of background. You say you don’t live here?”

“God, no,” Ames shuddered. “I also said, if you recall, that I hated my brother’s guts, and you can put that in the record, too.”

“Yeh,” said Griggs unemotionally. “And you had come here tonight for the first time in months. Why?”

“To talk to Wesley.”

“What time was that?”

“After their dinner. About seven o’clock. I had an appointment with Wes and he knew I was coming, but he had that damned don’t disturb sign outside his study door and so I had to sit and cool my heels until he was ready to see me.”

“Is that your Cadillac outside?”

“Christ, no. I came in a taxi. I think it was a Yellow but I don’t know the driver’s name or number. You can probably get a record of the time if you want,” he added sarcastically.

“All right. Who was here when you arrived?”

“Helena was here. Ames’ wife. And Vic Conroy. They and Alfred, the houseboy, live here. I also met Mr. Sutter briefly. He was also waiting to have an interview with my dear brother, having flown down from New York for the privilege, and he was burned up with waiting. He’d also had a few drinks before dinner, I gathered, because he went up to his room soon after I got here saying he was going to rest until the great man would condescend to see him.”

“And so you waited in the living room?”

“I waited in the living room. Vic came in here to do some typing, and Helena was nervous and ill-at-ease. She apologized for her husband’s keeping me waiting, and Alfred came in soon after with a coffeepot ready to be taken up to Wes, and Helena took it up. She’s the only one in the household allowed in that room when Wes has his sign out. She stayed upstairs and I sat here alone.

“About seven-fifteen the floodlights came on indicating a visitor had arrived, and Vic came out of his room to go to the front door and check him in. It was evidently someone Wes expected, because Vic sent him on around the side of the house to go up the outside stairs to Wes’s study.

“That was standard operating procedure here,” he went on with a twisted grin. “Wes had a lot of weird characters visiting him at odd hours, and it was Vic’s job to know them and screen them, and send them around the back way if they were expected.

“Vic came back inside and talked for a few minutes, and then went upstairs to his own room. A few minutes later Wes’s visitor left and the floodlights went off outside. I thought surely Wes would open up his door then and call me to come in, but the son-of-a-bitch didn’t.

“Helena came down after a little, wearing a mink and a scarf over her head, and said she was bored to death sitting around this morgue and was going to drive over to the beach for a drink. She said I could tell Wes she’d probably be at the Penguin Club if he gave a damn.

“She was just going out to get in her T-Bird that was parked in front of Wes’s Cad when Vic came hurrying downstairs and said he was going in town, too. I remember she asked him if he had Wes’s permission to leave the house and he said to hell with that… that there weren’t any more visitors due tonight and he had some time off due him.