“That’s it, then.”
“It’s still somewhere in Miami. What we have to do is make a connection, and work backward, work sideward. They have to be ad-libbing with some of this.”
“I don’t see it,” Dessau objected. “They switched tanks on the ship, right? That was the hard part. From then on it was downhill.”
“Do you think Little was acting when the Customs inspector passed him? That wasn’t acting. But wait just a minute now, maybe you’ve got something. Shayne could have worked it.”
“I thought you said the girl, Anne whatever her name is—”
“Not by herself. Shayne’s known in this town. We can find him.”
They were leaving. Shayne groaned heavily. The sound stopped them.
Groping in the darkness, he located Little’s body and loosened the knife, feeling a warm gush of blood over his hand. He worked the knife free, slid it in through the nearest door, and drew his own knife, the one he had used to cut up Diamond’s passport. He found the stomach wound with the point of the blade and rammed it home. He smeared his bloody hand over his forehead.
The men below were conferring cautiously.
“We’d better find out.”
Diamond disagreed. “Leave it alone. It can’t be Little. He’s gone.”
“Unless—you know, they wanted to get off without paying him. This would be a good place to do it, the best.”
“No, they wouldn’t leave him half conscious,” Diamond said.
“I’m going up and find out.”
A stair creaked.
“Pierre,” Diamond said softly but firmly. “I said leave it alone. Let’s not get ourselves sandbagged. This has to be something else.”
“I still say—”
Shayne tipped Little’s body to the top of the stairs and nudged it over. It somersaulted down, end over end, like a loose-jointed stunt man.
Dessau was on the second step from the bottom, peering past the flame of his cigarette lighter. The tumbling body struck him across the thighs and bowled him backward. The lighter flew out of his hand and went out. He landed on his back with a crash that shook a chunk of plaster off the ceiling above Shayne, narrowly missing him as it came down.
“Jesus Christ,” Diamond said fervently.
“Get him off me!” Dessau cried.
There were confused sounds. Another flame sprang up in the darkness. Shayne heard a sharply indrawn breath. “It’s Little!” Dessau said. “Knifed.”
“Dead?”
“You aren’t just whistling he’s dead. He sold us out and got a knife in the gut instead of pay. And you know I actually liked the bastard? Crazy as a bedbug.”
There was a long moment of uneasy silence.
“You didn’t organize this, did you, Pierre?” Diamond said in his softest voice. “By any chance?”
“What’s that?” Dessau exclaimed. “What did you say?”
“Just thinking out loud. I don’t know what you told him on the phone, do I? I can’t read lips. Maybe you didn’t say go over to the post office and bump into a car. Maybe you said somebody’d get in the car with him and tell him what to do next.”
“Now why would I do that, for the love of God? You mean sell to the highest bidder, that kind of idea? I’m running risks enough as it is. And speaking of risks, let’s get the hell out of this, do you mind?”
“Wait a minute,” Diamond said sharply. “I’ll be goddamned if I haven’t seen that knife. I think it’s Shayne’s.”
Shayne groaned again, and dislodged a beer can. Lowering himself into a sitting position, he breathed out heavily and heard cautious movements beneath him.
Diamond’s voice said evenly, “I’m holding a gun. It’s cocked. I’m coming up.”
Shayne made a half sound and took his head in his hands. He was now very bloody.
Diamond’s attention was divided, and a broken step gave way beneath him. Recovering, he came on, extending a heavy automatic at arm’s length to be sure it would be seen. Shayne grinned behind his hands and let another low sound pass his lips.
Diamond, approaching, warned him not to move. He summoned Pierre curtly.
“See what he’s carrying.”
Pierre edged past and stooped over Shayne to pat his pockets. Shayne slapped feebly at his hand, then sat back and let the tall man take his gun and flashlight. When the flashlight came on, Diamond put away his lighter.
“Diamond?” Shayne said blurrily, peering up. He looked at the other man. “Who are you?”
Diamond snapped, “Come on, Shayne. Stand up. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?”
He moved to get up, winced with pain and touched the hair above his temple. It was sticky with blood. He looked at Diamond craftily.
“We’ve had a little mix-up here, but I can explain it. Nothing serious. I’m a private detective.”
“I know that,” Diamond told him. “And I know from personal experience that you’re a hard man to subdue. This time I don’t intend to try. I’ll shoot you out of hand if you give us any trouble. We can talk about it somewhere else.”
Pierre prodded him in the ribs with his toe. “Something the matter with your hearing? Get the hell up.”
Shayne snarled and came to his feet in one swift, fluid motion. As Pierre reached for him clumsily, Shayne went beneath his arm. Catching the taller man by the belt, he spun him around to face his colleague, putting Pierre’s bulk between Shayne and the drawn gun. Diamond pulled back a step.
“I could push him at you,” Shayne said, “and we’d all end up at the bottom in a nice tangle. I don’t like to have guns pointed at me. I don’t like to be kicked. I’ve got a headache and I’m in a lousy mood. Put the goddamn thing away and let’s see what kind of deal we can make.”
After a moment Diamond dropped the automatic into an inside holster. “You’re a tough man,” he observed.
“Usually I’m easy to get along with.” He released Pierre, who loosened his collar and sucked in air. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’ve taken a shafting here? I’m open to any reasonable offer. Give me that light for a minute. I want to show you something.”
He took the flashlight out of Pierre’s hand and stabbed it at the floor behind him, where he had found Little.
“What happened to him?” he said in surprise.
“If you’re looking for Dr. Quentin Little,” Diamond said, “you’ll find him downstairs.”
Shayne shot him a suspicious look from under lowered brows, and started past Pierre. He checked himself at once, touching his temple, and continued more slowly, keeping his balance by running his fingertips along the inner wall. The others followed. When Shayne reached the bottom he bent over the dead man and touched his eyelid. He grunted, straightening.
“I always hate to lose a client, even when I do it myself. The son of a bitch was trying to shortchange me.” He looked down at the body, brushing his fingertips. “All right, if we’re leaving, let’s leave before they start talking about us on the police band. But do me a favor first, Diamond. I get dizzy when I lean over. Wipe off the prints.”
They exchanged a look. Diamond took out a handkerchief, spat into it, and carefully smeared the handle of the knife.
There was a sound in one of the rooms. Pierre, grabbing the flashlight, took a quick stride forward, and pushed open the crazily hanging door. The flashlight caught Minnie Fish as she started back.
“Look here, will you?” he said. “An audience.”
She stared past him at Shayne, her eyes widening as she saw the blood on his face. Then she looked down at the dead man on the floor.
“You didn’t—” she began, but Pierre caught her by the arm and spun her around.
“I’m the one who’s got to take care of this,” Shayne told him. “Let’s see the gun.”
Pierre looked at Diamond, who nodded slightly, and gave Shayne his .38.
“I didn’t hear anything!” Minnie Fish cried as Shayne stepped through the doorway. “I’m not i
nterested!”
Shayne struck her viciously across the face with his open hand. She whirled and ran. He overtook her in the bedroom. She stumbled and went down on one knee.
Catching her from behind, he clapped his hand over her mouth and whispered, “When I take my hand away, I want you to yell. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
His tone calmed her down and she stopped struggling. He felt her nod.
“All right. Now.”
He uncovered her mouth and she screamed. “I won’t say anything! It’s white business!”
Reversing the .38, he brought its butt down hard on the mattress. She understood, and stopped screaming.
He gave the mattress another hard blow, put the gun away and returned to the hall. Pierre and Diamond carefully avoided looking at him.
“Let’s go,” Shayne snapped.
CHAPTER 11
“Which one of you is top man?” Shayne said on the sidewalk. “I’m dealing with just one.”
A glance was exchanged.
Dessau said anxiously, “I think I ought to be in on this, Jerry. I’ve got an investment to protect.”
“I’ll look after your investment,” Diamond said. “Shayne’s calling the shots.”
“That’s just it, I’ve been hearing about him. He’s about as twisty as they come.”
“That’s no news to me; I’ve played poker with him. Thanks for the advice, Pierre. I’ll try to remember not to trust him. Follow us in the Dodge.”
Pierre said stubbornly, “He keeps using the word deal. Deals are at somebody else’s expense, in my experience. I don’t want to end up on the outside.”
Shayne, who was to his right and a step behind him, moved in close and took him by the elbows from the rear. “I’ve known you five minutes and I’m already tired of that voice. All right, Diamond. Whatever you do for discipline, do it and let’s get out of his part of town.”
Diamond punched Pierre lightly in the stomach, a token blow. “You know I wouldn’t cut you out at this stage, Pierre. The trouble with you is, you’re thinking about money. That’s not the main problem. There’s plenty of money.”
“I do hope so, for all of us.”
Pierre turned and hurried to the parked Dodge. Shayne checked Diamond’s Mustang, without concealing what he was doing. It carried dealer’s plates.
“We borrowed it,” Diamond said.
Shayne got in, and the Mustang took them out of the neighborhood very fast.
“Well?” Diamond demanded.
“Not yet,” Shayne said. “I need to make one phone call, and then let’s go someplace where the light’s good. I want to see your expression change.”
Diamond’s expression changed for the worse, becoming cold and still. “Call the turns.”
“Straight ahead. Turn right on North Miami.”
Shayne caught the glint of the Dodge’s headlights in the mirror. They rode in silence until Shayne pointed to a dairy cafeteria, not far from where he had left his Buick.
“There are phones in there. Lend me your handkerchief.”
While Diamond parked, Shayne wiped some of Little’s blood off his face. Before getting out, Diamond said earnestly, “I warn you, I’m going to be listening in on that phone call.”
Shayne laughed. “Like hell you are. I have to check up on something. If I let you listen I wouldn’t have anything to sell. Don’t worry, as far as I know you’re the only market, and I’m in a selling mood.”
“I’m going to insist on this. I don’t have to hear both sides of the conversation, just yours.”
“No,” Shayne said. “I have a couple of choices. You don’t. I can go the law-and-order route if I have to. Little’s a problem, but without witnesses I think I can ride it out. You and Dessau won’t want to come forward. Or I can sit tight and see if anybody makes me an offer.”
Diamond took it with a tight mouth. They entered the cafeteria, and Shayne said, “Get me a cup of coffee and some pie. Be with you in a minute.”
He descended to the men’s room. Max Wilson, the black cop Gentry had assigned to help him, came in while Shayne was drying his face on a paper towel. One of the booths was occupied. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror. Wilson was wearing a faded porter’s uniform. He had been a middleweight fighter once, and his face showed signs of having been hit too often. His eyebrows were slashed with scars.
Back upstairs, Shayne shut himself in a phone booth and dialed Police Headquarters.
“Will,” he said without preliminaries when Gentry was on the line. “I’ve got a murder for you, and you’d better get up there fast while the corpse is still wearing a suit.”
He gave the details quickly, and Gentry repeated them to somebody in his office.
“There are some nasty angles to this,” Shayne said, “and I hope you’ll agree to sit on it until I can find out more about it. He won’t have any identification on him, and let’s leave it at that for now. You may want to connect it with that stolen car report from Grady Ramsay, but don’t leak it to anybody. You remember? Two people drove up and went into the building together. If you can find somebody who took a Polaroid flash, fine. Otherwise I’ll just have to go on groping. I heard a helicopter. Any news?”
“Not yet. But Mike, we found Tim, and he’s not in such great shape. He’s right here if you want to talk to him.”
“Hell, yes. Put him on.”
Rourke’s voice said, “I don’t like these slurs on my appearance. The chicks don’t like me because I’m handsome, but because I’m amusing. A few bruises, Mike, you know how it is. They look worse than they are.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I might as well. You’ll remember I didn’t want to do this? I had a feeling I might be overmatched. And that’s the way it turned out. One-on-one I can play, but they were too many for me.”
“Tim.”
“Yeah. I forget where we were the last time we were in touch. I followed the Olds to the Holiday Inn. Fine so far. The guy went in and registered and then he moved his car down the line and they went in a room. The door barely closed. A man and a woman got in the Olds—a different couple, do I make myself clear?—and they were off and away.”
“Take this a little slower. Did they have the car keys?”
“They seemed to. I can’t tell you what they looked like, because the whole thing took me by surprise. I should have stopped to think. I was following the Olds and they were following the Olds. I’ve never had the knack of making myself invisible. So there had to be another car, right? It’s obvious now. The Olds turned off the expressway, I turned off the expressway, a third car turned off the expressway. And there we were on a one-lane exit ramp with me in the middle. The car ahead of me stopped. I stopped. The car behind me stopped. I was so fussed I forgot to lock the doors—it would have taken a little longer. And lately I’ve started fastening my seatbelt. That cut down my mobility. I hate to admit this, but it was a girl who slugged me. And she had muscles, Mike.”
“What did she look like?”
“Dark. Jewish, I think, if you don’t mind the ethnic note. I was trying to unsnap the damn belt and I didn’t see what she used, maybe only her fist, I don’t know. Whatever it was, it did the job.”
“How many people do you think there were?”
“In the two cars? Mike, don’t ask me. I wasn’t conscious enough to count. They could have killed me and they didn’t and I’m grateful to them for that.”
“It’s interesting,” Shayne said thoughtfully.
“I’m interested in it, too, as a matter of fact.”
“One person had already been killed. You’re a potential witness, but that didn’t seem to bother them. It must mean they didn’t think they needed a major delay. How did they leave you?”
“Bleeding from the mouth, man. They drove me off onto a side road and locked the doors. When I woke up I was too weak to fight my way out of the seat belt. The Highway Patrol found me. I was gone like twenty minutes, unless I skipped a w
hole day. I suppose I ought to apologize, except I did warn you this wasn’t my specialty, didn’t I? Who the hell were those people, do you know?”
“No, but I think I may be about to find out. Give me Gentry again… Will, any word from Washington on that picture of Jerry Diamond?”
“Nothing yet. They’re working on it.”
“I’m with him now, and I hope to get fingerprints. You might tell the Bureau to get a copy of the picture over to the CIA.”
“We’re getting up in the world. What makes you think the CIA would be interested?”
“I begin to get that feeling. The passport he’s carrying has recent visas for a couple of Middle Eastern countries. If you hear anything you think I ought to know, call this number.”
He read off the number of the pay phone and hung up. He met Diamond coming away from the counter with a tray.
“I didn’t know what kind of pie you wanted,” Diamond said. “I got lemon meringue.”
“I’m expecting a call,” Shayne said, sitting down near the booths. “Before you say anything I might as well tell you that I’m going to want some cash up front. Twenty-five thousand now, fifty more if I make delivery.”
Diamond, about to put sugar in his coffee, stared at him. “Aren’t you exaggerating your importance slightly?”
Shayne thought about it. “Maybe I am. Make that twenty and forty. If you can’t get hold of twenty thousand in currency tonight, forget it.”
Diamond put down his spoon and said carefully, watching Shayne, “It would be possible. Not so easy, but possible. I’d better find out if we’re talking about the same thing. Tell me what happened when we got the Bentley into a garage.”
“You opened the trunk and started to take out the gas tank. You probably began to worry when you saw that the bolts weren’t tightened all the way down.”
The muscles around Diamond’s mouth stretched in an involuntary grimace. “Do you have it?”
“You know I don’t,” Shayne said irritably. “And I can’t tell you where to look for it. I’ll contribute a few facts and you contribute a few, and maybe we can put something together.”
“The word is maybe. That’s not worth twenty thousand.”
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