Brett Halliday - Guilty as Hell

Shayne was still grinning. “I knew you’d do it with a twist. And after a few civilized drinks, you wouldn’t holler for help if I started unbuttoning your sweater. Isn’t that part of the idea?”

“Would that be so horrible?”

“What’s Begley going to be doing in the meantime?”

She ran her cool hand up his shoulder. “Conspiring, probably. Does it matter? I truly don’t know what Hal has in mind. You’re giving me too much credit. I merely happen to think we both need a brief intermission.”

Their bodies weren’t quite touching, but a steady arc of static electricity jumped the gap. Her lifted breast on the other side of the thin evening sweater touched his chest. She moved again, setting up a tiny friction and increasing the charge he was getting.

“You don’t want to drink,” she said. “You have only one hand. You may need it.”

She took the glass and put it on the headboard. She came twisting back and drifted in against him.

“Mike,” she whispered, her hand sliding around his waist. “God, I like people who-”

Shayne was thinking that there was actually nothing Begley or anyone could do during the next half hour that would make much difference. When her mouth came up, he had every intention of kissing her. At the same time, he wasn’t taken by surprise when the bare arm which she was raising to slip around his neck jerked in at him suddenly, and the hand proved to have a bookend in it.

He fell away from the swing, and the bookend grazed his head. He pulled her to the floor after him. The bookend, a bronze bust of Beethoven, bounced on the carpet beside him.

He was laughing. “If you don’t stop trying so hard, you’ll end up with circles under your eyes.”

He pulled her in against him, his hand on her bare neck, and kissed her hard. She struggled for only a moment, then gave herself to the kiss. He felt some of the tension leave her. Rotating, she slipped the rest of the way to the floor, taking him with her.

A moment passed before he raised his head. “Now maybe we understand each other. It begins to dawn on me that you aren’t worried about those pictures of Despard and the girl. That’s not why you tried to knock me out. What you don’t want me to study is the time sheet.”

She shifted, pinioned to the floor by the heavy sling. “Who told you about it? Jake? Jake, of course. I shouldn’t have kept it this long. I thought we might need it for authentication.”

“Doesn’t United States Chemical trust you?”

“Why should they?”

“Who sold you the report? Young Hallam?”

“Mike, that cast weighs a ton. It’s crushing me. Before I say yes or no, will you please think about the implications?”

“I’ve already thought about them.”

“Then can’t you see why-”

The phone rang.

She looked up at Shayne for a moment. When the phone rang again, she replied with a low-voiced obscenity, a curt Anglo-Saxon expletive that is not usually part of the vocabulary of nicely reared girls.

“Just when we were getting somewhere.”

“Don’t answer it.”

“It’s probably Hal. If I don’t answer, he’ll be back to see what’s going on.”

He moved the cast and let her up. She kissed the corner of his mouth lightly.

“If you can’t remember where we were, I’ll remind you.”

“Why don’t you quit him, Candida?”

“What a silly question. Tomorrow morning I become a partner and start drawing half the profits. That’s pretty good for a small-town girl.”

The phone had kept on ringing. She picked it up but finished what she was saying to Shayne, her hand over the mouthpiece. “And I don’t need to be told what will happen if this collapses. He’ll pretend he doesn’t know me. That’s why I hope to keep it from collapsing.”

She said hello. Shayne heard the unmistakable voice of a professional operator.

“Michael Shayne?” Candida said, her eyebrows rising. “Right here.”

She handed Shayne the phone. After the operator checked his identity, a man’s voice said, “Hallam. I’ve been trying to locate you. Jose gave me this number.”

“I’d better call you back,” Shayne said. “Things have been happening.”

“So I understand. Yes, I’d appreciate a call. I’m at the Mayflower. Let me tell you why I’m calling first, and if you have any questions, you can ask them when you get back to me. I want you to suspend operations.”

Shayne said in a flat voice, “Are you sure that’s what you want, Mr. Hallam?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Hallam was clearly not used to being asked this question. “I’ve just conferred with the lawyer who’s representing us with the Patent Office, and the consensus is that we stand to lose more by legal action than we could possibly hope to gain.”

“I thought there was more to it than that.”

“You’re quite right,” his client said coldly. “Taking everything into account, balancing pros and cons, we’ve decided to cut our losses. Your fee, of course, will be paid in full.”

“You mean provided I lay off?”

There was a moment’s cautious silence. “I don’t know that I care for your tone, Shayne. I brought you in at a handsome retainer to perform certain services. These services are no longer required.”

Shayne held out his empty glass to Candida. “Get me another drink, baby. This is going to take a little time.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to miss anything. What’s he doing, firing you?”

“Trying to,” Shayne said. “I’m sometimes a hard man to fire.”

He hadn’t covered the mouthpiece. Hallam’s voice put in, “I assume you intended me to hear that. Are you talking to Miss Morse? The girl who gave the orders to have you beaten up last night, if my information is correct.”

“Well, she’s a damned good-looking girl,” Shayne said, grinning.

She acknowledged the compliment with a movement of the cigarette she had just lighted.

“Good-looking or not,” Hallam snapped, “I don’t consider it wise to discuss this in the hearing of a paid agent of United States Chemical. Call me back from another phone.”

“I will later. I don’t want to break this off. It’s picking up momentum.”

“And it’s obvious that you’ve been drinking. Very well, I’ll put it as simply as possible, to make sure you understand me. I’m resigning as your client. Conceivably there may be a change in management after the next board meeting. This decision may be reversed, but until then you are no longer in our employ. Do I make myself clear?”

“Clear enough,” Shayne said noncommittally. “When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow. There’s nothing more I can do here. But I’d like a more definite statement of your intentions, Shayne. You have eight thousand dollars coming, I believe. Do we mail you the check or not?”

Shayne let him wait a minute.

“Better not,” he said softly and broke the connection.

“What was that all about?” Candida asked.

“You know as much about it as I do. Let’s take a look at that time sheet.”

“No, wait. I’m trying to think if it makes any difference to me that you no longer have a client.”

“That’s no problem. I can always find another. I’m thinking of what’s his name? — Perkins, of United States Chemical.”

She was frowning at him when the phone rang again. He offered it to her but she shook her head.

“It’s probably for you.”

Shayne picked it up and said hello. Jose Despard’s voice answered.

“Your line’s been busy. Does that mean the old man reached you?”

“Yeah, a minute ago. How did you talk him into calling me off?”

“What’s that?” Despard said warily.