Brett Halliday - Guilty as Hell

“But it’s not the kind of trouble I care about, you see. I don’t love Forbes. I’ve been careful not to, and sometimes it took a certain force of character, because he has possibilities. But I’m not going to wade up to my neck in glop, just to fit in with somebody else’s ideas.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you really want to know,” she said quietly, “I like your hand on my shoulder. It’s started the machinery. The one thing I don’t like about the men I know is that not many of them are men. If you want to rent a room for us here-it’s Sunday night, I’m sure there are vacancies-fine. I think we’d enjoy ourselves. But if Forbes found out about it, he’d be morose for days. He’s a permanent type. I’m not. I could copy a paint formula and hawk it from door to door, because what earthly difference would it make? Forbes couldn’t.”

Shayne gave an unwilling laugh and let her go. “You’ve convinced me. That’s what you wanted to do, wasn’t it?”

She took his face in both hands and kissed him on the mouth. “Think what you like. But I’m willing to go to that room if you want to, for as long as you want to stay.”

He looked into her eyes. “I know your name and your St. Albans room number. Right now I’m working.”

She nodded gravely, and after a moment she went back into the room.

Shayne was waiting in his Buick, on his third cigarette, when Forbes Hallam, Jr., zoomed into the parking lot in his low-slung black Jaguar.

The door didn’t entirely latch as he got out. He took the outer steps two at a time and disappeared. A few minutes later Ruth came back with him. She was still barefoot, carrying a pair of sandals by their straps. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they came down the stairs. There was a long, deep kiss in the Jaguar before they got underway.

Shayne followed them south to Miami Beach.

He had checked the St. Albans twice by phone. The security man told him Candida Morse was still waiting. Shayne wanted to be present at this meeting, and as soon as Forbes committed the Jaguar to the St. Albans approach, he swung his Buick into the unmarked drive leading to the ramp to the service entrance. He leaped out at the unloading platform and entered the hotel through the kitchens.

He was in the ornate lobby before Forbes and the girl came in the main entrance.

Candida, he saw, was sitting near the archway into the Blue Bar, idly turning the pages of a magazine. He moved closer. From a vantage point behind a huge bronze statue of a mother and child, he saw an unmistakable sharpening of her attention as she noticed the other two. She slowly turned a page. They passed with no sign of recognition.

Ruth had put on her sandals. Her face was still bare of makeup. Even in the baggy sweatshirt she was the most exciting girl within Shayne’s range of vision, with the possible exception of Candida, who had the advantage of taking a sensible interest in money. Ruth and Forbes were holding hands. Again, as they waited for an elevator, her head dropped against his shoulder. He smiled down at her and said something that made her laugh.

As soon as an elevator took them out of sight, Candida put her magazine aside and checked her appearance in a pocket mirror. She did something minor to her hair. She looked at her watch. After a moment she uncrossed her elegant legs and stood up. She looked at the titles in a paperback rack, studied the schedule of the day’s events in the hotel, and forced herself to smoke a cigarette all the way through before going to the house phones. She checked her watch again and waited another moment. After giving them five minutes together, she finally picked up the phone.

Shayne was frowning. Harry Hurlbut, a tough, pockmarked ex-middleweight, was standing in the door of his office across the lobby. Candida put the phone down and entered an empty elevator.

As soon as the door closed on her, Shayne crossed to Hurlbut’s office.

“God knows what’s going on, Harry,” he said, puzzled. “I thought I had things figured out, but apparently not.”

“Keep trying, Mike,” Hurlbut said in his gravelly voice. “Whatever it is, let’s control it.”

“We’ve had a certain amount of violence, and I’ve been expecting some more. There’s a hell of a lot of money in the game. But tonight everybody’s being very well behaved.”

“Please God they stay that way,” Hurlbut said. “Would it help if I tell Ruthie we need her room?”

Shayne rubbed his jaw. “Harry, I just don’t know. This thing has more twists than a corkscrew. I think I have to go up and throw a little weight around.”

“Do it gently, will you, Mike? If you have to splash anybody off the walls, take them outside.”

Shayne returned to the elevators and waited. An elevator arrived. Forbes was in it.

He looked at Shayne blankly. Shayne put his arm into the electronic field to keep the door from closing.

“It’s no coincidence, Forbes. I followed you here from the Stanwick. I need to talk to you. Let’s go in the bar and have a drink. After that I may have some questions to ask Miss Di Palma.”

Forbes finally pushed off from the back wall. “She’s been on benzedrine all weekend and she took a couple of pills to knock herself out. I’m the one you want to talk to. I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to get around to me.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting pushes in your direction,” Shayne said.

At the entrance to the Blue Bar he called Hurlbut over and introduced the two men.

“When the blonde comes down, tell her I want to see her in the bar,” Shayne said. “Maybe we can settle everything peaceably.”

“Knock on wood.”

Shayne took Forbes into the bar, found a large enough opening on a banquette and ordered drinks.

“I’m sorry about the arm, Mike,” Forbes said in a low voice. “I know it’s part of your profession, but I’m sorry just the same.”

“I’ll sue somebody,” Shayne said. “Did you know your father fired me?”

Forbes swung around in surprise. “What did he do that for? Did you insult him or something? We’ve only got one more day.”

“He’s writing it off,” Shayne told him. “He says he’d rather take a small money loss than look dumb in public. I think he’s really afraid I’m onto something that will lead to a family scandal or endanger his control of the company. He put a cop on me to make sure I was paying attention.”

“I thought he was in Washington.”

“They have phones in Washington. He happened to be talking to a cop who could take a hint.”

The drinks arrived. Shayne raised his. Forbes was thinking about something else. When he saw that Shayne was waiting, he started and picked up his drink.

“Cheers,” he said gloomily. “He’s trying to cover up for me, I guess. Who told him?”

“Your Uncle Jose. He wanted to know if your father ended up paying for Ruth’s abortion.”

“Oh, that,” Forbes said, his face clearing. “That turned out to be nothing. She made a mistake.”

“How much money was involved? I was told eight hundred.”

“That’s right. Dad loaned me some money the year before to cover a payment I had to make because of an accident. A hit-and-run thing, except I didn’t know I hit anybody. I didn’t have eight hundred. I’d only been going with Ruth a few months. She thought, on the basis of the Jaguar, the job, my rich family, she thought all I had to do was reach for the money clip and peel off hundred-dollar bills until she told me to stop. She knows better now. It turned out nobody considered me much of a credit risk. I was beginning to think I’d have to ask for offers on the Jag. I wanted to leave Dad out of this one if possible. Jose told him. Dad yelled a bit, but finally he said he’d take care of it. Then Ruthie came up with the good news-false alarm.”