Brett Halliday - The Uncomplaining Corpses

“I know, I know.” Renslow spread out his hands placatingly. “I’m not arguing my spot with you. With me innocent as a baby, I’ve not got a Chinaman’s chance if you spring that note. I’m just trying to tell you I’m not heeled with heavy dough.”

“That’s liable to be your tough luck.” Shayne gestured toward the bourbon bottle. “Help yourself.”

“I need it,” Renslow admitted. He filled his glass. “You can’t get blood from a turnip. Hell, I’ll come clean. I’ll fork over every damn cent I can rake up.”

“How much can you raise? Fifty grand?”

“Fifty gran-? Where do you think I can put my hands on that kind of money?”

“Well, twenty-five?”

Renslow was breathing heavily and there was a frown of incredulity on his face. “You’re nuts!” he exclaimed. “Pure nuts. I might scrape up twenty-five C’s-” He leaned forward to study his host’s face hopefully.

“Pin money,” said Shayne with scorn. “I’ve got to get paid for letting my wife take the rap for you.”

“I can’t get any more,” Renslow faltered. “I swear I’m leveling with you;”

“That’s going to be your hard luck. I didn’t know I was wasting time on a piker. I should have left you lying in jail.”

“God, but you’re tough,” Renslow breathed. “Can I help it if I can’t kick in with a fortune?”

“Won’t your part of the estate add up to millions?”

“Sure, but it may not be settled in court for a year. If you’re willing to wait until I collect-”

Shayne’s harsh laughter drowned out the note of abject pleading in the ex-convict’s voice. “Cash on the barrelhead is the only thing I can use.” He frowned over Renslow’s head. A musing light came into his eyes. Renslow started to speak and he silenced him with upheld hand.

“Wait a minute. I just thought of another angle. Maybe I can sell a bill of goods to someone else.” He laughed unpleasantly. “I was dumb not to see this angle before. If you’re convicted of murdering your sister, the whole estate will go to Thrip. That makes your conviction worth a few million to him, doesn’t it?”

“God!” Renslow’s tone was awed. “You wouldn’t-sell me out to him? Like auctioning me off to the highest bidder?”

“Why not?” Shayne smiled pleasantly, showing even rows of white teeth between lips that curled back and away from each other. He lounged to his feet, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and teetered back and forth on the balls of his feet, nodding approbation for his own cleverness in solving the problem so neatly.

“Why not?” he demanded again. “All you mean to me is a way to make some money. Thrip is a businessman. It won’t take him long to see that your conviction will be worth money to him. He’ll pay, by God. And that’ll be lots better all the way around,” he went on argumentatively. “Lots cleaner. By throwing you to the wolves I can collect from Thrip and clear Mrs. Shayne at the same time. Not bad. Not bad at all, even if I do say it as shouldn’t.” He lifted his glass in a toast to himself with wholehearted self-approval.

“I believe you’d do it,” Renslow panted. “I believe you would.”

“Why not? I told you and Mona in her apartment yesterday that I had to have a fall guy. I warned you I wasn’t going to give a damn who got hurt. Here, I’ve got a sweet pay-off and a fall guy.”

“You’re crazy. You can’t get away with anything as raw as that.” Renslow came to his feet with a rush. The protesting words poured out like floodwaters bursting a dam. “I’m not going to sit on my pratt and let you frame me into the chair. Maybe you weren’t so smart when you held that note out. No one else knows about it. If I bump you, no one ever will.” He whirled and caught up a straight chair, turned threateningly while his eyes blazed hatred at the detective.

Shayne laughed shortly. “Put that chair down. There’s been enough killing.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Renslow began to inch forward.

Shayne stood his ground. “Don’t be any more of a damned fool than you can help,” he advised Renslow coldly. “You won’t be any better off with a broken neck than if you were squatting on the hot seat. I’m still open for bids,” he went on casually.

Renslow stopped inching forward. His tense grip on the chair relaxed slightly. In a choked voice he said, “You know I won’t be able to meet Thrip’s bid. I’m out on a limb for cash.”

Shayne said, “Let go of that chair and sit down.” After a moment’s hesitation, Renslow obeyed. Receding anger left him shaken and afraid.

Shayne said, “That’s better. Now, look. Can’t you raise some cash on your prospects? A man who stands to inherit several million dollars ought to be able to raise a few grand if he tries hard enough.”

“Not as much as twenty-five,” Renslow faltered. “I don’t know where-”

“That was just my asking price. Hell, I’m not a hard guy to deal with. In fact, I’m a damned softy about giving an ex-con a break. Double your offer and I’ll play ball with you.”

“You mean-double twenty-five hundred?”

“That’s right.” Shayne nodded encouragement. “Just five grand-enough to keep me in drinking-liquor a few months while I get the taste of this case washed out of my mouth. How about it?”

Renslow emptied his bourbon glass and some of the color came back into his face. He nodded slowly. “I think maybe I could raise that much. Mona-she’s got some contacts with heavy dough.”

“I don’t give a damn where or how you get it. Noon today is the deadline though.”

“That doesn’t give me much time.”

“It’s all you can have. This thing is so damn hot I’ve got to drop it by noon.”

“I don’t know. I’ll do my best to raise it by then.”

“You’d better succeed,” Shayne told him implacably. “Be here with the cash at noon or the real note goes into the hands of the cops.”

“And if I do-?”

“If you’re here with five grand at twelve o’clock you’ll be in the clear. I’ll guarantee you a long life out of jail.”

“You won’t cross me up? You won’t go to Thrip and give him a chance to bid higher?”

“To hell with it if you can’t trust me,” Shayne growled. “I’m not signing any affidavits, if that’s what you mean. I’m playing with fire to give you a break, and you’ll have to trust me-or else.”

“Yeah,” Renslow agreed dismally, “I guess I will.” He sighed and got up. “I’ll raise that dough if I have to crack the First National Bank.”

“Good.” Shayne flashed him a smile and stepped forward to slap him on the shoulder. “You won’t regret it.” He steered Renslow toward the door. “But I’ll make it my business to see that you do regret it if you’re not here.”

He opened the door and watched Renslow go toward the elevator. He closed it softly, moved across the room to a window, and lifted a shade to see dawn lighting the sleeping city. He suddenly realized that he had not closed his eyes since the telephone got him out of bed more than twenty-four hours previously.

He dropped the shade and went to the telephone, where he called the Thrip number. He waited a long time with the receiver to his ear before the butler’s sleepy voice answered.

He asked for Mr. Thrip and the butler assured him it was quite out of the question to awaken his master at such an ungodly hour. The detective told the butler Mike Shayne was calling and it was pretty damned important. The butler grumbled and then acceded. Shayne waited a while longer and finally Thrip’s querulous voice came over the wire:

“Mr. Shayne? I’m quite certain you have nothing to say that could not wait until a more decent hour.”