Brett Halliday - I Come to Kill You

He started to drink, but checked himself. “Before I put away the rest of this elegant bourbon, tell me what to expect. Will it be a party, or the two of us?”

“That’s something I’ve got to arrange. I’ll drop you off at his house, but first I have to get his wife out of the way. It’s been a big day for Carl, and he may be celebrating. He took his first scalp this morning.”

“How?” Philly said, his lips parted.

“With a forty-five automatic, through the back of the head. Lots of blood.”

Philly swallowed air, then bourbon. “The skunk,” he said admiringly. “This is going to be an experience. Disregard what I said about danger, Mike. Can you see to it that he doesn’t have a gun?”

“Yeah, I can manage that.”

“Then here’s how we can do it. Let’s not bother with drawing-room-type conversation, thrusts and ripostes, little witticisms. Let’s take the bull by the horns. When he turns on the light, I’ll jump at him, quite, quite nude. I went out for wrestling at Alabama.” He smothered a giggle. “I really did. It was heaven, but I didn’t win very often, because I couldn’t bring myself to pin those handsome sweaty creatures. But I’m good at it. If you hear anybody screaming, it’ll be Carl, defending his honor. By the time I get him down on the rug, I can almost guarantee we’ll be in a different kind of struggle. Then give us a few minutes to say hello and so on before you break in. Five minutes. How does that sound as a scenario?”

“Perfect.”

“I have a motto, Mike. I give satisfaction if it kills me.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“I hope so, too!” He finished his bourbon in a long gulp. “The thing I mainly hate is monotony. I’ve had girl friends, you know, but it gets monotonous much faster. That bourbon has the kick of a jackhammer. What town are we in, Miami?” Another quick giggle came out. “I’m polluted.”

“That’s all right.”

“And if I forget myself and make a pass at you, you will blame it on I. W. Harper?”

“Save it for Carl,” Shayne told him.

Before starting across the causeway, Shayne backed into a delivery alley and told Philly to get out. He opened the trunk.

“You want me in there?” Philly said. “I couldn’t possibly, Mike, not even for you. I’m claustrophobic.”

“I’ll take out the spare. There’s plenty of room, and it’s only for a minute, until we get through a checkpoint.”

Philly shook his head. “I’d kick and hammer and sob.”

In the end he curled up on the floor of the back seat, and Shayne covered him with a raincoat. These precautions were unnecessary, because the guard at the entrance to the De Blasio property waved him on before he came to a full stop.

“The Don wants to see you. Right away.”

Shayne swung around the house toward the garages, and parked where the driveway widened.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Make it sooner than that. I’m beginning to feel stifled.”

Shayne ran up the steps to the apartment. As he came in, Sarah, in her nightgown, ran out of the kitchen to throw her arms around him.

“Nicola’s here,” she whispered. “Stinking.”

“That’s perfect,” he told her. “How’d you manage that?”

“She walked in with her own bottle.” She called over her shoulder, “It’s Mike.”

She pulled his head down. “Carl’s been seeing another woman. I think—”

Nicola, barefoot, came out of the kitchen with a glass in her hand. “How do you do, Mr. Shayne?”

“It was nice of you to visit Sarah,” he said. “There’s not much for her to do here.”

“Italian men,” Nicola said, swaying. “All we are is women, we don’t matter. Lock us up. She could have starved to death, for all they care.”

“I had a long nap,” Sarah said, “a sauna, a chance to do my nails—”

“I could do with a drink,” Shayne said. “The Don’s waiting to see me, but the hell with that.”

“Let him wait,” Nicola said. “Let him stew in his own juice. People deserve a little consideration.”

They collected in a little booth in the kitchen, around a table so small that their knees touched. It was Nicola’s gin, and she poured.

“Nikki and I have had a long talk,” Sarah said, smiling at the other woman. “Mostly about private matters.”

Nicola colored slightly. “We aren’t supposed to have feelings. We cook for them and run the vacuum cleaner and have their babies…”

Tears came to her eyes, and she couldn’t finish.

Sarah said gently, “Mike’s a detective. He could help you.”

Shayne drank in silence, letting her handle it.

Nicola said, “I wouldn’t hire a detective. I don’t want to get divorced. I just want…”

Confused, she drank deeply.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sarah said, stepping up the pressure on Shayne’s knee. “You know, there’s nothing sleazy or slobbery about Michael Shayne. You can trust him. He’s handled hundreds of your kind of case. He’s unshockable. I know he could give you some good advice. Let me tell him what you told me.”

Nicola put her hand to her forehead. “Carl’s over there drunk as a goat. He won’t let me come near him. There’s something on his mind, but he won’t tell me. Go cook some linguine. Go have a baby.”

Sarah turned to Shayne. “If you talked to him, Mike. I don’t think he realizes what he’s doing to this girl. They’ve only been married sixteen months—”

“Eighteen!” Nicola said.

“And he’s stopped making love. Maybe once a month, as a special treat, and at their age that’s ridiculous. You see, there’s another woman. And Carl’s still so immature, in some ways. This other person’s a lot older; it has to be a bad relationship, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think I would,” Shayne said neutrally.

“Nikki saw him picking her up at the TV station. Remember, I told you I used to work there?”

Shayne’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t mean Mrs. Sherman Meister.”

“It sounds a lot like her.”

“That’s a funny combination. When was this?”

He looked at Nicola, who after a moment concentrated hard and said, “What did you say?”

“When did you see Carl with this woman?”

“A few weeks ago.” Her mind jumped. “I know how he makes his living. It has something to do with gambling. He promised he’d never get mixed up with anything worse. My mother was pleased when she saw the island. I have a car of my own, in my own name. But sometimes I think I don’t like Carlo. Mike, what shall I do?”

“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Shayne said, “but you’ve got a legitimate beef. Stay here with Sarah while I talk to him. I don’t like the looks of some of these characters I see walking around.”

“She’s a guest of the family. They wouldn’t try anything. I don’t think they would.”

Sarah came to the door with him.

He pulled her against him, and didn’t hurry the kiss.

“You’ve been a big help. Keep her here, and I don’t care how you do it.”

He went down to the car. Carl’s old college friend was still on the floor of the back seat.

“Philly.”

“Still here. And I’m going to start whimpering in a minute.”

“You can get up now.”

He brought the Buick around in a fast U-turn, kicking gravel. Just short of the checkpoint he turned off on a long driveway leading through the palms to a house on the water. It had been designed by an architect who liked huge windows and odd conjunctions of angles. Shayne went inside. Finding the house empty, he called Philly.

“I’ll get him over here sometime before dark. Don’t fall asleep while you’re waiting.”

“Fall asleep, you’re kidding. I’m too keyed up. I wonder how much he’s changed.”