Brett Halliday - Shoot to Kill

Shayne held out a big hand and said, “Let’s see what I’m supposed to search for in Ames’ study… providing I can get in for a look.”

Sutter hesitated unhappily. “I… don’t know. I suppose I can rely on your discretion. This is a very delicate matter…”

“Yeh,” said Shayne grimly and coldly. “I can see just how delicate it is. You’ve got a crooked city official conniving with crooked contractors to mulct the city out of money by passing out contracts on a kickback basis. If you want me to do anything for you hand over the photostats so I know what I’m looking for. If you don’t, get yourself and your stinking proposition out of here.”

“Really, Mr. Shayne!” Sutter looked astonished, hurt and shocked by this outburst. “I’m not at all sure…”

“Make up your mind fast,” snapped Shayne, getting up and turning to the table to pour himself another drink, and broadly winking at Lucy as he turned. “Normally,” he said with his back turned, “I consider a blackmailer a vicious scoundrel who deserves to be stamped on. But some blackmailees deserve any damned thing they get and it sounds to me as though your valued client Mr. Murchinson is in that category. If I had a syndicated column to do it in I’d probably publish the damned documents, and the only thing I really blame the dead man for is making a deal not to publish them. Are you going to give me the photostats or not?” he demanded harshly, turning back with his filled glass in one hand and holding the other out to Sutter.

“I certainly do not care for your attitude, but under the circumstances I fear I have no choice.” Sutter withdrew a long white envelope from his pocket and passed it over with what remnants of dignity he could muster.

Shayne sat down and opened the envelope, drew out some folded photostatic copies of legal-sized sheets and glanced through them briefly. He nodded and returned them to the envelope and handed them back to Sutter.

“All right. I’ll see what I can do. I don’t know whether there will be a police guard over Ames’ study or not.”

“There is,” Sutter told him. “I heard that sergeant directing that a man be stationed there before I left. That is why I thought of you and the possibility that you might be able to gain access to the room even though it has a police guard.”

Shayne said, “I might be able to work something.” He looked across at Lucy and her glass which was still half-full. “Drink up, angel, and I’ll drop you off home on my way up to Ames’.”

“Ah… about your fee, Mr. Shayne. If you are successful in recovering the evidence. Do you think a thousand dollars…?”

“I think,” said Michael Shayne blandly, “that twenty-five grand will be exactly right.”

“Twenty-five… thousand?” wailed Sutter. “For possibly half an hour’s work. That’s preposterous. I cannot possibly…”

Shayne got up from his chair and towered over the pudgy seated man, his blunt jaw out-thrust.

“You said you had an envelope in your hotel room containing that sum which you brought down here for the specific purpose of buying those papers. If they were worth that much three hours ago, they’re still worth that much. Don’t talk to me about any thousand bucks. Me, I’ve got at least as much probity as your client in New York. I’ll do your dirty job for the full twenty-five grand, but not a penny less. Take it or leave it.”

He turned away angrily and drained his glass and slammed it down on the table.

Mr. Sutter got up behind him and said weakly, “Well I… I was authorized to pay that amount, of course. It’s still extortion,” he went on bitterly, “but…”

“It’s legal extortion this time,” Shayne told him cheerfully. “I’m simply gelling paid for doing a job. Go on back to your hotel and wait for me to call you. If I have any luck it’ll be within an hour.” He stood by the table and watched Sutter turn and go out of the room.

When he turned his head the redhead saw Lucy looking at him over the rim of her glass with a smile of tolerant exasperation. “You are the damnedest bundle of contradictions, Michael. That poor little man… it is extortion, you know. Pure and simple.”

“You know what that poor little man had in the back of his mind?” Shayne demanded cynically.

“He was just doing his job, Michael. Trying to save his client money.”

Shayne said, “I wish I had your faith in human nature, angel. Saving his client’s money, hell! If I’m any judge of character he was hoping to go back to New York with the evidence in hand. Mission accomplished. Period. With twenty-four thousand bucks in cash stuck deep into his own pocket while I’m supposed to be grateful for one lousy grand for doing his dirty work for him.”

“Does collecting twenty-five thousand for the job instead of one make it any less dirty?” demanded Lucy with spirit.

“No. Not really. But it sure as hell salves my conscience. How else can I afford to buy you mink coats and things?”

“I haven’t got a mink coat.”

“Just what you need to salve your conscience,” Shayne told her enthusiastically. “We’ll go mink shopping tomorrow if I collect from Sutter tonight.” He glanced at the empty glass in his hand and then at his watch. “Finish your drink and let’s go.”

Lucy Hamilton wrinkled her nose at him and finished her drink. They went out together and down the stairs to his car, and as they drove off she reminded him:

“You never did tell me why you thought that call would be from Dorothy Larson and that you’d be lucky if it was. Why lucky? Why did you expect her to call you?”

“I hoped it would be a call about her, at least. We don’t know where she is or what’s become of her.” He swiftly explained the condition of the Larson apartment when he and Rourke went there after the shooting. “What does your woman’s intuition make of that… in view of all the known circumstances?”

“The last we know about her is when she telephoned you to say her husband had run out of their place with a gun and she was afraid he was going to shoot Wesley Ames? Is that right?”

“That’s the last anyone seems to know about her.”

“And there’s a half-packed suitcase on the bed, her clothes scattered around, and blood in the bathroom,” Lucy recapitulated thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Michael. She would naturally be terribly frightened and distressed. Your earlier visit must have worried her frightfully. I wonder…” She paused. “Under the circumstances do you suppose she might have called Mr. Ames to tell him the way things were going?”

“Do you mean after she talked to me and before Ralph came back? Or after Ralph went out with a gun and she called me… to warn Ames?”

“Well, I really meant after you talked to her. While she was sitting there planning what to say to Ralph when he came home. If she was having some sort of affair with Ames, wouldn’t she be likely to call him to break it off?”

“U-m-m,” ruminated Shayne. “And maybe he was serious about her. Maybe he said, ‘To hell with that husband of yours, babe. Pack a bag and get out of there to avoid a violent scene.’ Is that what you’re thinking?”

“I hadn’t gone that far,” Lucy said honestly. “But it might have been that way. And if Ralph came back unexpectedly and caught her packing…”

Shayne slowed and turned off the Boulevard onto Lucy’s side street. He said slowly, “I’m trying to remember whether there was a telephone in Ames’ study. I’d suspect he’d have a private line there, but I don’t recall seeing one. It’s where he closed himself up to do his work, and maybe he didn’t have one. Normally I suppose his secretary would handle his calls. It’s something I’ll have to check on if I can get in there tonight.”