Brett Halliday - Shoot to Kill

Shayne told him, “A cop in charge of a murder investigation has pretty much blanket authority. I wouldn’t argue with Griggs if I were you. He’s only doing his job.” He went out into the flood-lighted area and down to his car with the sergeant’s official car parked closely behind it. The uniformed driver got out from under the wheel as Shayne opened his door, and he hurried forward to ask anxiously, “Do you know if I’m supposed to wait out here, Mr. Shayne, or does the sergeant need me inside?”

Shayne said, “I think he’s going to be taking some more statements and will be wanting your shorthand pad. Wish him luck from me,” he added with a wide grin, backing up against the front bumper of the police car and cramping his wheels to make a left turn back down the driveway.

When he reached his hotel this time, Shayne put his car into its assigned slot in the hotel garage, and walked around to the front entrance to the lobby.

The desk clerk watched him with interest as he crossed the lobby toward the elevator, and called out, “There’s a phone message for you, Mr. Shayne.” Shayne broke his stride to go to the desk, and the clerk got a slip of paper from a cubbyhole and handed it to him. Shayne unfolded it and read: “Call me at once.” There was a telephone number and a room extension, and it was signed “Sutter.” Shayne went on to the elevator and up one floor and to his suite where there was still ice water and a bottle of cognac waiting for him on the center table. He poured a drink and sipped from the glass contemplatively, spreading the telephone message out on the table and scowling at it. It had been received almost an hour previously, very shortly after Sutter had walked out of this room.

He sat down and lit a cigarette and called the number Sutter had given, and when a happy female voice answered, “Hotel Costain. May I help you?” he gave her the extension, and the attorney’s voice came over the wire. “Yes?”

“Mike Shayne. Is that Sutter?”

“Yes. Thank goodness you called, Mr. Shayne. I’ve been worried…”

“I just got back from the Ames’ house,” Shayne cut him off. “I told you I’d be in touch as soon as I had anything to report.”

“I know you did. What have you to report, Mr. Shayne?”

“Nothing good,” the detective told him bluntly. “I went through the man’s private files without finding anything on your client. Yet, I’m sure I had the real dirt… the stuff he had no intention of printing.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sutter told him. “You see, I received a call in my room immediately after I got back from talking to you. A man who refused to identify himself told me that he had the information in his possession… the documents concerning my client which I had come down here to buy. He quoted a paragraph from one of them which convinced me he was telling the truth, Mr. Shayne.”

“And?”

“He is willing to turn them over to me for payment of twenty thousand dollars. He is apparently aware that Ames’ price was twenty-five, but as an inducement for me to deal with him at once… he stressed it must be tonight… he will accept twenty… intimating that I could pocket the extra five and no one would be the wiser.”

Shayne asked, “Why are you calling me?”

“Because I don’t trust the man whoever he is. I am not accustomed to dealing with violence, Mr. Shayne. He set up a midnight rendezvous to which I agreed reluctantly. What assurance have I that he will not meet me and forcibly take my payment without delivering the documents?”

Shayne said, “It has been done. How is the pay-off set up?”

“He gave me definite instructions. At midnight exactly I am to walk out the front entrance of my hotel and hail a cab… the first one waiting in line at the cab-stand or the first one that cruises by if none is waiting. He warned me that I would be under observation from the moment I stepped out the door and got into the taxi, and that if it were followed by another car the deal would be off. He gave rather elaborate instructions to prevent the possibility of my being followed unknown to him, and I confess I cannot see how you can circumvent them. But I suppose private detectives have a great deal of experience in such matters and I hope you may arrange to be on hand when I turn the money over to him.”

Shayne said, “Go on. What were his instructions?”

“To proceed north from my hotel at a moderate speed to Sixty-seventh Street. Left on Sixty-seventh for five blocks, and I am to instruct the driver to slow down in the middle of the fifth block and pull into the curb on the right and stop there for at least a full minute. I am then to tell the driver I have changed my mind about getting out there, and for him to drive on to the next corner where he is to turn south and drive slowly in that direction until we are hailed by a car and directed to pull over and stop. He will be in that car with the documents.”

Shayne had been jotting these directions down as the New York attorney gave them to him. Now he said, “I’ve got all that, Sutter. If you want to take that dope back to Murchinson in New York I advise you to do exactly as he says.”

“And you?” asked Sutter anxiously.

“Don’t worry about me. This is my town and this sort of thing is my business. Don’t look for me out of the cab. Don’t expect to see me following you. Remember that if you are able to see me, your man will too. Just have your driver do exactly what he told you lo. I’ll be in on the payoff, don’t worry about that, and you’ll be fully protected all the way.”

“Very well. I confess I don’t see how… but that is your business, isn’t it? Shall I take the full sum with me, or only twenty thousand?”

“All of it,” Shayne directed him. “In two envelopes will be best. You’re going to owe me the five if all goes well and you turn the twenty over to him.”

“Yes, I… I was afraid you’d drive that sort of bargain,” said Sutter sadly. “But I don’t care. If I can just conclude this unsavory business successfully and get back to New York I shall be most happy.”

“One more thing,” Shayne said sharply. “Have you been contacted by Sergeant Griggs?”

“The policeman who came to the Ames house? Not since I came to the hotel. I understand that he had no further interest in me.”

“That situation has changed,” Shayne told him. “He’s going to be looking for you to ask some more questions.” He looked at his watch and went on, “If you want to be certain to be free to leave your hotel at midnight, I suggest you get out of your room right away and stay out of it. There’s a cocktail lounge downstairs in the Costain. Go down there and settle yourself in a booth with a drink until twelve o’clock, and don’t pay any attention if you’re paged. Later on, if Griggs does contact you, you needn’t tell him I warned you to keep out of his way.”

“Of course not, Mr. Shayne. But why on earth…?”

“We’d better not waste time discussing it now. The sooner you get out of your room the better. Griggs is likely to be sending a man around for you at any moment.” Shayne hung up and sat back comfortably to finish his drink and to wonder who it was that had the Murchinson papers in his possession, and how he had come by them.

At five minutes before twelve a bellboy came through the cocktail lounge of the Costain Hotel in downtown Miami sing-songing, “Call for Mister Sutter. Mister Alonzo Sutter. Call for Mister Sutter.”

Seated alone in a shadowed booth near the entrance, Alonzo Sutter turned his head slightly and put his left hand up to instinctively shield his face from the passing boy. He had a feeling that everyone in the bar was looking at him and wondering why he did not answer the summons, though he knew that was utter nonsense because no one in the lounge could possibly know his name was Alonzo Sutter.