Brett Halliday - Michael Shayne’s Triple Mystery

“You’ve got a nerve talking like this if you think I murdered him,” said Shayne harshly.

Belle wet her lips and watched him with an odd and intent appraisal. “You’re from Whitey,” she declared after a moment, and sat down in her chair.

“Suppose I am?”

“You and Whitey killed him last night. I don’t get it, Red. He’s no good to you dead.”

“You are,” he said soberly.

She shook her dark head dismally. “I’ve got to figure this out. Why did Whitey send you here?”

“I didn’t say he did.”

“It has to be that way,” she argued. She sounded weary and defeated. “How much does this cop know about you, Red? How much do they know about Whitey?”

“Don’t worry about the cops,” he replied harshly.

“I could turn you in.”

“But you won’t,” he retorted and grinned at her.

“I don’t know.” Her eyes gathered flame again. “Was Walter fool enough to go to Whitey last night and threaten him?”

“What would he threaten Whitey with?”

“That detective he was going to see in New Orleans by the name of Michael Shayne. You heard the cop talking, didn’t you?”

“Oh — him,” said Shayne contemptuously.

“Why else would Whitey kill him?” she asked sharply. “If he wasn’t afraid of Shayne. He must know he’ll never get a penny out of me. Not with Walter dead. All I’ve got to do now is sic the cops on him. I don’t care how much he talks.”

She got up abruptly and the pistol slid to the floor. Pacing nervously before him, she went on, “I can cash in Walter’s chips and get the hell out of here. Back to the bright lights and some real living.” Her voice was suddenly coarse and vulgar.

“You’re forgetting Harvey.”

She whirled on him. A haunting fear crept into her eyes. “How much do you know?”

“I make it a point to know lots of things.”

“Well, if you know so damned much you must realize I just played around with Harvey because I was stuck here.” She walked rapidly across the room to push the call button again. There was feline grace in her movements. She came back, sat down, picked up the pistol and slid it underneath her thigh.

Fandella appeared promptly and without asking questions took the empty cocktail shaker and glasses away.

“You must have guessed who I was when I first showed up,” Shayne said.

Belle showed her teeth in an unpleasant smile. “Sure. I figured Whitey had sent you. That’s why I wanted you to stick around — because I figured Walter had made arrangements.”

“With Michael Shayne?”

“Yes. You know all about it, don’t you.”

“But that’s when you still thought Walter was alive,” Shayne said.

“Of course.”

Fandella came back and set the frosted shaker on the table. Shayne brought his empty glass over and held it out to her. Belle filled his glass and then her own.

“You don’t have to sit so damned far away,” she complained.

He pulled a light occasional chair up close to hers and sat down. “That New Orleans cop is waiting to hear from you,” he reminded her.

“How much does he know about you, Red? Why does he expect you here?”

“How the hell do I know how much any cop knows?” he parried.

“Can they pin Walter’s murder on you?”

He said, “No.”

“On Whitey, then?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Whitey must not be too worried,” she argued, as though trying to convince herself. “Else he wouldn’t have sent you here. But why did he do it, anyway?” she went on plaintively. “Like I say, he hasn’t got anything on me. I never did anything. I’m not afraid of publicity here like Walter was.”

Shayne didn’t say anything. He feigned deep and troubled thought over what she was saying and watched her with calculating eyes.

“So what are you doing here?” She demanded truculently. “How’d you come to meet Harvey?”

“At the bank,” Shayne said. “I was nosing around.”

“Asking questions?” Her tone was one of sudden anger. “What good will it do you? How’d you get in the bank?”

“They were sort of expecting that detective from New Orleans.”

“Michael Shayne?”

“Yeh. Harvey knew your husband had gone to see him. They didn’t know he got bumped before he saw Shayne.”

“So they thought you were the detective?” She scowled at him before draining her glass. “I ought to turn you in.”

“But you’re not going to.”

Her eyes widened with suspicion. “Not as long as you and Whitey act smart and don’t try to push me.”

“I’d feel better if you gave me that gun.” Shayne held out his hand.

Belle shook her head and said, “I think I’ll keep it handy.”

Shayne relaxed deep in his chair and confessed, “You’ve got me wondering. After the come-on you first handed me. I’ll never know whether you’re playing it straight or still handing me a line.”

“Why would I hand you a line?”

“Why did you at first?”

“I told you that’s when I thought Walter had things fixed for you to come. I figured you were casing the layout for Whitey.”

“Did your husband tell you to expect us today?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. He never did. But I knew he figured to sic that shamus on Whitey, and when he left he said not to be scared if Whitey showed up here.”

“Using you for the stake-out?” Shayne spoke carelessly, watching her through slitted eyes.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said irritably. Her voice was getting thick. “What did Whitey expect him to do? Take it lying down?”

“I’m like you,” Shayne told her. “Whitey didn’t tell me much either.”

“What do we care about either one of ’em? Walter’s dead and Whitey’s—” She paused, her eyes glittering, then continued in a deadly serious voice: “Well, he must know I’ll turn him in quick as a wink if he fools with me.”

“Or maybe make a deal with Michael Shayne yourself?”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“I’ve heard of Shayne,” he growled. “If you expect him here today, why should you change your plans? That’s what I meant a little while ago when I said I’d never be sure where I stand with you again.”

Her breath came rapidly. “Why should I expect Shayne today?”

Shayne straightened and spread out his big hands. “Look, I’m doing a lot of guessing. I know all about Shayne. He’s big and tough and he likes his women the same way. How do I know you haven’t made a private deal with him? Hell,” he went on angrily, “how do I know it wasn’t in the cards for him to bump your husband last night? Yeah. That’s the way Shayne might play it. You and him together.”

“You’re crazy,” she snapped. “I don’t even know Shayne.”

“You seem to know a hell of a lot about him. Hasn’t he been here to see your husband?”

“No.”

“When did they plan it all, then? Your husband hasn’t been to the city for months.”

“They didn’t plan it. Walter just knew about him and figured he was the man to take care of Whitey. He went up to see Shayne yesterday. Isn’t that what he told Whitey? Isn’t that why Whitey bumped him off — to keep him from getting to Shayne?”

“Maybe that’s what he told Whitey,” Shayne growled. “That doesn’t make it the truth. I’m still wondering if you fixed that room upstairs with me for the stake-out.”

“Nuts,” she said, and poured herself another drink.

“You also later admitted you were making it easy for me to stay because you figured your husband had it fixed for Shayne to cool me — along with Whitey. How the hell do I know that doesn’t still stand?”