Brett Halliday - Michael Shayne’s Triple Mystery

“Nossuh. Yo’ ain’ gonna do nothin’ to me now after Ah done said it’s him. Kin he, Mist’ Shayne?”

Shayne said gently, “Don’t worry, Jake. The Inspector just wants to be sure.”

“This is excellent,” said Hastings, stepping forward briskly. “Most fortunate that you have apprehended Mrs. Meany’s murderer, Mr. Shayne. You’ll release my client at once,” he demanded of the Inspector.

“Looks as though we haven’t much on him now,” Quinlan admitted. He said to Shayne, “We’ve got Gerald Meany downstairs. Brought him over to see if the janitor could identify him. He was picked up half drunk in a joint not far from here. He swears he didn’t come here this afternoon — doesn’t remember it, anyway. He admits he started out to follow his wife, but stopped for a drink and doesn’t remember anything else very clearly. If your man has already identified this fellow—”

“But it’s a lie! He didn’t actually identify me. Not until Shayne told him to. Ask him yourself,” Cross challenged.

“How about it?” Quinlan turned to Jake. “Give it to me straight. Did Mr. Shayne tell you to say this was the man?”

“Nossuh,” Jake said earnestly. “He didn’ say nothin’ lak dat. Nossuh.”

“All right,” said Quinlan shortly, turning to a plain-clothes man lounging in the doorway. “Go downstairs and release Meany. He’s in no condition to drive. You’d better take him home.”

Inspector Quinlan said to Shayne, “Now give me what you’ve got on this bird.”

“Of all the damned frauds!” Cross shouted.

“Remember I told you about his planning to publish Groat’s diary in the Item,” said Shayne.

“That’s right, you did.” Quinlan looked at Cross with new interest. “You pointed out that he was one of the few who might have had a motive for killing Groat because of the diary.”

“You’ll have to do some work,” Shayne told him. “I’m handing him to you on the Meany murder. I presume he had to get rid of her because she knew too much about last night.”

“Is that the way it was?” Quinlan threw at Cross.

The reporter said stiffly, “I’ll have a nice case of false arrest if you go ahead with this. I never saw Mrs. Meany. She asked me to come here this afternoon, but was apparently murdered before I got here.”

“Don’t forget,” Shayne reminded him, “to explain about her calling you at four-thirty and your not getting here until seven.”

“I’ve already told you I was busy with some work.”

Quinlan raised his frosty eyebrows. “Do you still claim you aren’t the man the janitor let in?”

“I not only claim I’m not, but deny it emphatically.”

“That’s your story,” Shayne said blandly, “but you can’t prove it. Frankly, Inspector, I like him for both jobs a lot better than Gerald Meany.”

“He is more the type,” Quinlan agreed. “Meany seems pretty much of a weakling. And there won’t be any unwritten law to mess up this case.”

“Dammit,” Cross protested, “stop discussing me as though you were deciding on which horse to back in the fifth.”

“Where were you at eight o’clock last night?” Quinlan asked.

Cross scowled and tightened his lips. He didn’t reply.

“Did you follow Groat out to the Hawley home, or did the girl call you ahead of time to warn you he was coming?”

Cross continued his stubborn silence. Quinlan made an angry gesture toward the door and gave an order to one of his men. “Take him in and book him on an open charge.”

When Cross was out of the room, Quinlan said, “I don’t like this too much. If your janitor messed up this identification and it was Meany who was here, we’ll never prove it now. Hastings will tear down any story Jake might tell in court.” He got up and picked up the brandy bottle, gauged the meager contents, and emptied it. He set it down and said soberly, “Frankly, I think you’re pulling one on him. I think the janitor is saying what you told him to say.”

Shayne started to protest, but Quinlan waved for silence. “I’ve worked with you before, Shayne. Cross may be our man. But if he isn’t,” he went on wearily, “and if you did fix that janitor’s testimony to place him here, you’ve practically handed Meany his freedom on a silver platter. And God help you if you’ve done that.”

“If he isn’t the killer he’ll be safer in jail tonight,” Shayne argued, “Because someone who’s already pulled two murders is still after Groat’s diary. And he suspects Cross has it.”

“I’d like to have a look at it,” Quinlan muttered. “Any idea where Cross has it stashed?”

“All I could get out of him was that it’s in a safe place.” Shayne got up and stretched. “Aren’t you ready to call it a day with Cross locked up?”

Quinlan studied his face for a long time. “You’re up to something,” he growled. “I’ve seen you like this before.”

“At the moment I’m interested in finding more evidence against Cross,” Shayne admitted readily. “I gave him to you, and now by God it’s up to me to make it stick.”

“I won’t stand for a frame,” Quinlan warned him.

Shayne said, “Close the door on your way out. I’m headed for the bathroom.”

He turned and went through the open door into his bedroom.

After getting rid of the Inspector, Shayne looked up Roger Deems’s telephone number and called it. When Deems growled, “Who is it?” Shayne said, “Mike Shayne. One of your colleagues is in trouble. Joel Cross. Quinlan just locked him up on suspicion of murder.”

“Good enough. Who was the victim?”

“I’m not sure he did it. I thought you might want to help him out.”

“Why should I help him? I don’t like the guy.”

Shayne said soberly, “This is serious, Roger. It isn’t going to do the Item a bit of good. In fact, your paper is riding straight toward a damage suit.”

“That’s different,” Deems agreed. “What’s it all about?”

“Mostly a diary that Cross has in his possession illegally. I feel badly about it, Roger, because I put Cross on the spot. I don’t know whether he’s guilty or not. At the same time, I put your paper on the spot and I wanted to give you the tip-off.”

Deems said, “Keep talking.”

“It’s that diary of Jasper Groat’s. It contains the proof of Cross’s innocence or guilt. He’s playing smart and keeping it hidden. Only that isn’t smart. If he’s guilty, he’d better arrange to have it destroyed quick before someone else gets hold of it. If he’s innocent, he’d better arrange to get it in a safer place, before the real killer destroys it.”

“What’s your interest in this?” Deems asked suspiciously.

“The damned fool stuck his head in a frame that I only intended to frighten him with. The way things happened, I can’t retract now. If he’s innocent I’d like him to prove it by keeping the diary safe. If he’s guilty, he’d better get rid of that diary quick for the paper’s sake. There’ll be a hell of a lawsuit slapped on the Item if certain people can prove he kept possession of it for personal reasons.”

“What do you want me to do? He wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Can’t you send him a mouthpiece? Doesn’t the paper have a lawyer who can see him and find out where the diary is hidden?”

“We’ve got Andrew Drake on an annual retainer,” Deems said. “He represents any of the boys who get caught off base.”

“Get hold of Drake and explain how necessary it is to convince Cross he should take possession of the diary immediately — before the night’s over. It isn’t safe where Cross has it hidden.”

“You talk as if you’ve got inside information.”