Brett Halliday - She Woke to Darkness

She tripped out gaily and Shayne turned angrily to the uniformed man; drawing him aside and turning his back on the bald-headed bartender to display his Florida credentials as a private investigator and explain hurriedly:

“From Miami, but I’m working on a local case. That woman is an important witness and must be followed. Let’s get on her tail fast.”

The cop hesitated, narrowing his eyes at Shayne’s face. “Are you Mike Shayne?”

“I’m Mike Shayne.” The redhead moved him toward the door, continuing swiftly: “Get smart and you might get promoted off your beat. You can check with Lieutenant Hogan of Homicide later. But right now we can’t afford to lose that woman.”

The policeman hesitated uncertainly, moved by the urgency of Shayne’s manner and obviously impressed by the name of Lieutenant Hogan, but not yet quite certain whether he was being sold a bill of goods or not.

Jack, the bartender, intervened at exactly the right moment to make up the officer’s mind for him. He stepped in front of the two as though to bar their exit. “I don’t know what kinda story this bozo handed you,” he said threateningly, “but you’re a fool if you believe a word of it. If you don’t lock him up…”

“A fool, am I?” grated the policeman, shoving him aside with his left shoulder. “Out of my way before you’re clinked for obstructing justice.”

They hurried out onto the sidewalk together, and Shayne breathed a sigh of relief when he sighted Estelle’s tall, slender figure hurrying northward on the avenue a full block away.

“There she is, Officer.” He pointed ahead and started walking unhurriedly in the same direction. “I think I know where she’s headed, so we needn’t get closer unless she changes her mind.”

“I got to know about this,” the uniformed man said sternly. “Maybe this is on the up and up and maybe not. What was it you mentioned about Hogan of Homicide?”

“He’s working on the case with Precinct Detective Peters,” Shayne explained. “Elsie Murray who was strangled last night.” They strode along side by side, keeping a block between them and the hurrying figure of Estelle. “I flew up from Miami this morning to look into the case for a friend of hers,” Shayne went on evenly, “and I’ve been working on this angle while your men are following up a local lead.

“The bald-headed bartender back there is mixed up in it somehow. What sort of story did he hand you? And what’s your name, by the way? I’d like to tell Hogan how intelligently you cooperated with me.”

“Grady, it is.” The Irish brogue deepened under Shayne’s commendation. “Baldy, back there? I was passing by when he hurried out and said there was some trouble inside. A drunk molesting a young lady.”

“He should be watched,” Shayne said sternly. “I know you’re not a detective, but I can clearly see you’ve got the makings of one. How’s for it if I tail the girl and you go back to keep an eye on Jack? Or aren’t you allowed to leave your beat for something like that?”

Completely won over by Michael Shayne’s blarney, Officer Grady said proudly, “That’s what we’re on beat for, of course. To take action in any emergency as seems fitting. It’s in the rule-book. I’ll tell the sergeant when I phone in next. What would you suspect Baldy of being up to?”

“Tipping someone off that I’ve caught him in his lie and they’d better do something about it. If you’re back there quickly, you might earn a detective rating for this. Stick with him, and report direct to Hogan if he does anything suspicious.”

“Right you are.” Grady swung a beefy hand In a half-salute, swung on his heel and hurried back toward the barroom. Shayne moved up his pace somewhat to close the gap between Estelle and himself to half a block.

She was walking fast along the uncrowded avenue, not looking back at all, evidently certain in her own mind that Shayne was still being detained by Grady.

As Shayne had anticipated, Estelle continued northward about ten blocks before turning into Lew Recker’s hotel. He slowed his pace and sauntered on, allowing her plenty of time to pass through the lobby before turning in himself. There was an older woman at the desk this time, and she glanced at him incuriously as he went directly to the elevators at the rear. One came down a moment later, and the detective was taken up to the 5th floor. He turned to his left and went to Recker’s door. He listened for a moment, but could hear nothing from within. He tried the knob and found it locked, then knocked lightly.

After a few moments, Lew Recker’s voice came suspiciously from the other side of the locked door. “Yes? Who is it?”

Shayne said, “Special Delivery letter,” hoping it wasn’t the custom of this hotel to telephone up first before making a delivery. Evidently it wasn’t, because the knob turned and the door opened a narrow crack.

Shayne moved against it with his shoulder, shoving Recker back as he stepped inside.

Estelle Stevens faced him across the room in front of the typewriter desk. Her face was pale and frightened as she gasped out: “That’s the man, Lew. The one I was telling you about.”

“I thought I recognized your description,” said Recker angrily, confronting Shayne with glittering eyes. “I know all about him, Estelle. He’s an impostor who forced his way in here earlier to question me about Elsie, pretending he was a cop. There’s probably a warrant out for his arrest right now. So you’d better beat it while you can,” he flung at Shayne venomously.

The redhead grinned happily and heeled the door shut, moving back to stand with his back to it. “On the contrary, bud. We three are going to have a nice cozy talk about Elsie Murray… and about another friend of yours who was murdered three months ago. Elbert Green.”

Estelle stiffened and her upper lip drew back from her teeth when she heard the name. Lew Recker merely grunted angrily and moved back toward the telephone stand. “I’ll tell the police anything they want to know.”

He leaned down to reach for the phone, but Shayne moved swiftly and flung him backward across the room toward Estelle. “You’re talking to me. And now. One more yap from you will get your face spoiled.

“Listen to me carefully, you two,” he went on fast and rough. “This isn’t a game you’re playing. Two people are dead already, and maybe a third. I know things the police don’t know, and you know things I’ve got to know.

“Don’t be a childish fool,” he went on harshly to Recker who had sunk into a chair and was nervously rubbing his face with a handkerchief. “If you talked to Detective Peters after I left this morning, you know I’m perfectly legitimate even if I am private from Florida. He may have told you I have no official standing in New York and no authority to ask questions, but this is my authority right now.” He doubled a big fist and shoved it menacingly under Recker’s nose. “Start talking.”

“I don’t know…” Recker stopped and swallowed hard. He looked up plaintively at Estelle and asked her, “Do you know what the man wants, dear? You were just telling me how you met him in some cocktail lounge…?”

“The one Elsie Murray used to go to when she lived down the avenue,” Shayne cut in fast. “The one she went into for the last time around twelve o’clock the night Elbert Green was murdered… after she had passed out at a party she attended with you two. Does that jog your memory?”

Lew Recker’s face presented a curiously contrasting interplay of emotions. There was comprehension, and fear, and honest puzzlement.

He wet his lips and said, “Elbert Green? I do remember that name vaguely.” He looked at Estelle appealingly. “Wasn’t he the fellow the police questioned Elsie about the next day after he was found dead in some hotel?”