Бретт Холлидей - Murder in Haste

“Don’t look at me,” Shayne said. “I can’t explain anything.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Shayne smiled. “It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it, Joe? You’ve told me a few secrets, and now you expect me to tell you a few in return. But it doesn’t work out that way. Petey Painter has always been a mystery to me. Some of the time he seems fairly bright. Some of the time he seems to have an IQ of minus fifty. He’s a pain in the behind all the time, but I don’t need to tell you that. Logic? I gave up expecting that from Petey long ago.”

“Why did Painter want you picked up? Why did he tell your client to put off your appointment? You’re in this up to your eyebrows, Mike, and I want to know how.”

Shayne’s head filled with a sudden pounding, but he forced himself to speak quietly. “Mrs. Heminway’s not my client yet, but never mind that. I’ve had two conversations with her, both on the phone, both brief. You listened in on one of them. All she wanted to know in the other was whether I was available, and on what terms. I’d been wondering what I’d do while Miss Hamilton is out of town, so I said I was available, and the terms would depend on what she wanted me to do. That’s all. But I didn’t just arrive in Miami from outer space. I read the papers. I know that this Sam Harris who’s going to the chair next week killed a minor bank official named Heminway in a robbery.

“I had Tim Rourke dig the stories out of the News morgue. Rose Heminway is the dead man’s widow. Harris went up on the strength of a bad reputation and two eyewitnesses, one of whom was this same Mrs. Heminway. Petey Painter made the case against him. This all probably means something. I could guess, but I like to let the cops do their own guessing. You won’t mind if I shave before I go, will you?”

“Go where?”

“I thought you said you’re arresting me.”

“Mike, don’t be like that. And I thought for a minute you were going to break down and be human, for a change.”

The lines around the redhead’s mouth deepened. He took his cognac to the bathroom and set it on the glass shelf over the washbowl. From the doorway Joe Wing watched him break out his shaving equipment.

“I’m open to any reasonable compromise,” Wing said after a moment. “I know that complete cooperation is probably too much to expect — your quarrel with Painter goes too deep. You can make your own terms.”

Shayne went on lathering his face without replying. When this operation was complete he began stropping his straight razor. Wing stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

“I wouldn’t want to be quoted on this,” Wing said in a lower voice, “but I think I share your feelings about Painter, Mike. You see him when you happen to be working on the same case, and that’s really not too often. But think of me. I’ve got him day in and day out. Thank God I’m a patient man. I never used to be, but it’s something I’ve had to develop. As far as I know you’re the one man in town with courage enough to tell him off, and listening to you do it is one of my few pleasures in life. That probably goes for most of the men in the department. But that doesn’t mean we want to see him killed.”

“Keep it in proportion, Joe,” Shayne said, beginning to scrape off the lather. “What makes you think anybody killed him? If I have the order right, he was seen driving off after the shots were fired. Did you find any blood in the Cadillac?”

“No,” Wing admitted.

“Then there must be something else you haven’t told me. How did he happen to be using a driver at that time of night? Especially a plainclothesman like Heinemann. He sounds more like a bodyguard than a driver.”

Wing exploded. “Now there’s one more fact I’ve given you, and you still haven’t given me one goddam thing. Yeah, he had a twenty-four-hour guard. He was looking forward to fireworks, and he told Heinemann they were up against professionals, or words to that effect. Heinemann can’t remember exactly how he put it.”

“Do you think I shot him?” Shayne said.

“I didn’t say you shot him! But you know more about it than you’ve told me, and don’t deny that again because it’s getting monotonous.”

Shayne continued shaving methodically, while Wing watched his reflection in the mirror. “If you want something to occupy your mind, here’s a point. Harris or whoever hit the Beach Trust three years ago carried away three hundred thousand in cash and bearer bonds. When he was arrested, they found twenty-three thousand under the lining of a suitcase. I think the difference would amount to two hundred and seventy-seven thousand, and where is it?”

“Well?”

“I’m still not getting across to you, Joe. I got those figures out of the News clippings, and the only reason I bothered Rourke for them was so I’d have a little background when I talked to Mrs. Heminway. How long has Painter been going around with a bodyguard?”

“Two and a half weeks,” Wing said.

“What happened two and a half weeks ago?”

“As far as I know, nothing. The same thing occurred to me, and I’ve been checking. Nobody remembers anything unusual. He just said he was going to need twenty-four-hour protection until further notice.”

“It’s a funny way to do business,” Shayne commented, working on his lower lip.

“Well it’s always been Painter’s way,” Wing said. “If he pulls something off it’s a surprise to everybody, and we stand around and admire him. If it doesn’t work we don’t know about it. This time I guess it didn’t work. Of course if he’s turned up by now he won’t be glad to hear that I’ve been dickering with you, Mike. But the Cadillac was abandoned out in the middle of nowhere, with the key still in it. Add that to the shooting, and it worries me. Maybe somebody fired those shots to decoy Heinemann around the corner. The only reason they’d do that would be so they could grab the Chief. You’re in the same business we are, in a way. It seems to me you ought to — why the grin, Mike? Did I say anything funny?”

Shayne was grinning broadly. He rinsed off the remains of the lather, and the grin turned into a laugh.

Wing watched him stonily. “Let me in on it, Mike.”

Shayne went off into a shout of laughter. He groped blindly for a towel and began to dry his face. Heinemann knocked on the door. “Everything all right in there, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah,” Wing growled. “Have a drink. We’re leaving in a minute.”

“Hell, Joe,” Shayne said when he could stop laughing. “Think about it. Whatever this jam turns out to be, he got himself into it by acting even more like Peter Painter than usual. What if I’m the one who gets him out of it? It’ll damn near kill him.”

A smile flickered across Wing’s face. “He won’t enjoy it. Then you’re going to put your cards on the table, Mike?”

“Maybe I don’t have any cards to put on the table. That’s a possibility, Joe, and this whole thing is weird enough so you shouldn’t toss out any possibility. If you want me to make you an offer, here it is. I’ll ask Mrs. Heminway what she has in mind, and if I take the case I’ll pass on anything I find out, maybe not the minute it comes in, but within a reasonable time.”

“That’s what I call a hell of a deal.”

“It’s the only one I can give you, Joe. You might gain something by it. Stick me in jail and all you’ll get will be trouble.”

“I’ve got trouble enough now,” Wing said, scratching his chin.

“Did Painter see Mrs. Heminway before last night?”

“She came into headquarters two or three times. He didn’t take any notes on the visits, and I couldn’t find anything with her name on it in the current file.”