Brett Halliday - Murder Spins the Wheel

Harry’s hair, the small amount he had left, was graying over the ears. He had a rugged, outdoors face, with a quick smile and sun crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It was true, as Shayne had told him, that he was a few pounds over his best weight, but he had the arms and shoulders of a professional fighter.

“And a bourbon for me,” he added.

“No,” Theo said, “not till the doctor says so.”

“I know what the doctor will say-bouillon. I’ve got to tell Mike something, and I can’t do it without a drink.”

She looked up at Shayne.

“It won’t kill him,” Shayne said.

“All right, but it’s against my better judgment.”

Harry watched her leave the room. Her walk was lithe and athletic.

“There’s a real woman,” he said. “Mike, sit down. Here’s the problem.”

Shayne moved a straight chair closer to the sofa. “What do you want me to do with Waters, throw him out?”

“No, I’d better have him here where I can watch him.” His face twisted suddenly and he put his hand lightly against the top of his head. “I really think they may have busted something. I relaxed at the wrong time, Mike. One of them kept saying, ‘Don’t kill him, don’t kill him.’ I don’t know why he thought it mattered.”

“If it’ll make you feel better,” Shayne said, “two of them are dead.”

Harry looked at him questioningly, and Shayne told him about his chase of the holdup men and its abrupt ending on the 39th Street cloverleaf in Miami.

“That’s two out of three,” Harry said. “Never mind. Those were the troops. I want to know who’s behind it. That was no spur-of-the-moment job. It was planned. Somebody knew about Doc’s cash situation. The bastard has no margin at all. Sting him twice in an afternoon, and they knew he’d have to call on me for backing. A long shot at Tropical, a football game, a stickup. They could be three accidents, or they could be connected. I think they’re connected.”

“What’s your idea, Harry, that the real reason for the fixes wasn’t just to beat Doc, but to get your cash out where they could take a crack at it?”

“That’s my idea. I’m getting dizzier by the minute so I’ll say it fast. Florida Christian against Southern Georgia. We had Florida at eleven points. A rush of last-minute money came in on Georgia, most of it in Doc’s territory. You don’t get that kind of late action against the local team unless somebody thinks they know something.”

“What did the Christians win by?” Shayne said. “Six points, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bitterly, “six points. One more touchdown and we’d have been in. I watched the last half. It’s one of those stymie situations where both lines are so strong that nobody gains on the ground and it’s up to the quarterback to break it open with passes. And it seemed to me he was a tick slow about getting off his shots. They red-dogged him, sure. But a couple of times he had a receiver wide open and he let himself get blitzed with the ball still in his mitt. Other times he just missed the receiver.”

“That happens, Harry.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a suspicious mind. If the betting had been normal, but it wasn’t. Well, we get taken once in a while, you know that, and what can you do? But I like to know what’s happening to me so it won’t happen again. That’s what I wanted you to look into, this quarterback. What kind of car does he drive? Does he have a safe-deposit box, and what’s in it?”

Shayne scraped his thumb along his stubbled jaw. “Harry, you’re talking about Johnny Black. He’s All-American. These days the pros are handing out bonuses of a hundred thousand and up, and he’s going to get offers. How much would you have to pay him to take that kind of chance in his last college game? Too damn much.”

“I could be wrong,” Harry admitted. “What time is it?”

Shayne looked at his watch. “Five of eight.”

“There’s a sports program at eight, highlights of the games. See what you think.”

Doc Waters came in from the hall. “Well, I had a hell of a time locating Goldstein, but he says he’ll be with you in fifteen minutes. Look, I know you’re feeling lousy, Harry, but before he gets here. I told you what I’m up against. There’s a time element.”

Harry’s head made a small rotating motion and his eyes closed for an instant. He blinked hard.

“I said I’d cover you. I consider that a contract. But don’t irritate me.”

Theo came in with bottles and glasses on a large tray. Shayne took the tray from her and put it on a low table.

“I couldn’t find the brandy he was talking about,” she said. “I hope this will do. Will you make your own?”

She poured a little whiskey in a tall glass, adding ice and considerable soda. “And I’m taking no responsibility for this, Harry.”

“Give that to Doc,” Harry said. “I’ll have mine straight.”

She looked at Shayne for support. When he didn’t give her any, she grudgingly covered the bottom of an old-fashioned glass with bourbon and handed it to her employer.

Doc Waters was fidgeting around without sitting down. “One thing I didn’t tell you, Harry, and it makes a difference. My big winner’s Al Naples. Anybody else I could maybe stall.”

“Don’t worry about Al. He’s retired.”

Doc drank some of the weak highball. “Maybe, but I don’t think I’ll take a chance on it.”

“Is this the Al Naples from Chicago?” Shayne asked.

Waters nodded. “And I wish he’d stayed there.”

“Harry, if you don’t need me right now,” Theo said, “why don’t I finish my typing?” She bit her lip and burst out, “I can’t just sit down, and have a drink, and pretend everything’s normal! The doctor said fifteen minutes, but when did a doctor ever come when he said he would? You ought to be in the hospital. You’ll need X rays, and why not have them now instead of later?”

“Let’s see what Goldstein says about X rays,” Harry said. “Get the typing out of the way, and if I have to go to the hospital you can come along. I won’t blast off at Doc any more. I’ll try to remember he’s human.”

Doc’s mustache jerked in annoyance. “I’m human. But who else?”

“Turn on the TV for Mike,” Harry said.

Theo touched Harry’s shoulder lightly, crossed the room and switched on the big set. Again Harry watched her leave, his eyes soft and vulnerable.

Shayne adjusted the volume. The announcer was delivering a razor-blade commercial, in a tone of great conviction. After that he went directly into a fast review of the Florida Christian-Southern Georgia contest, which the favorite had won but with little to spare. Shayne watched Johnny Black hit with two scoring passes in the first quarter, then suddenly lose his touch.

“I’d say there were four plays,” Harry said when the announcer shifted to a game in the Middle West. “He could have scored with any one of them. Heads or tails, and they all came up tails.”

“You think he threw it?” Waters said.

“That’s what I want Shayne to find out. Now tell him about the third race at Tropical.”

“Harry, where’s the percentage? There’s not a damn thing we can do but pay up.”

“Doc, give me some more whiskey.”

When Waters hesitated he said sharply, “So it’s bad for me. Do you care?”

Waters took his glass and poured him a strong drink. Harry was squinting, trying to keep things from overlapping.

“A couple of mugs stuck me up when I was eighteen,” he said. “They got a wristwatch and three bucks. That was the last time till tonight. I don’t like it. I also don’t like being clubbed with a pistol barrel. I think Mike will work on it for me if I pay him enough dough, but he has to know the facts. All the facts. What’s the name of the horse?”