Kill All the Young Girls

by Brett Halliday

  “I think I know what I’m doing.”

  He made a scornful noise. “You’re as bad as Oscar’s girls, all tits and ass. ‘Hit me again, Oscar, how I love it.’ I’ve just had a painful session with Evie Zion. There’s the ideal American woman. No personality of her own at all. I’m sure she sees to it that Marcus’s meals are ready on time and his clothes get taken to the cleaners. In bed, always willing to serve. But she has her agreement in writing. If Marcus decides to toss her out, it’ll cost him some money.”

  “Evie Zion is not that much of a mouse.”

  “What’s your setup down here? Does he let you listen to his phone calls?”

  “Why should I trouble myself? I don’t understand stocks and proxy fights and boards of directors.”

  “They aren’t that complicated. What time did he get back from the hospital?”

  “Five o’clock; and since then, he has been coming and going.”

  “And talking to people. The various things you know are worth money, do you realize that?”

  “Worth money to whom?”

  “Let me handle you. But it’s risky enough so I think I ought to get twenty-five percent.”

  “Handle me?” she said, amused. “But if I don’t know any of Larry’s thoughts, and I don’t, what would you have to sell?”

  “I think I can find a buyer; but it has to be now, tonight.”

  “Mr. Shayne, I think you’re teasing me. Do you know who killed Kate Thackera?”

  “I think so, but I can’t see any way to prove it. I’ve been giving you a hustle on some of this, but that’s one thing I mean. All the killer has to do is stay reasonably cool, and we won’t be able to touch him. So the hell with it. If I can’t come up with a murderer, I hope to come up with some money.”

  She seemed puzzled. “Remember, English is not my principal language. Can you say it more plainly?”

  “This thing is wide open. I’ve been itching to move in and go for the cash. There are three main groups; and if we move fast and get them bidding against each other…”

  “I think you are trying to… what is the word you used? Hustle.”

  “There’s a chance of that. But think about it. If the pirate picture hits, you’ll be big enough so you won’t need Larry. If it bombs, he won’t be able to use you again. So what can you lose?”

  “My life,” she said seriously.

  Shayne nodded. “Yeah. That’s why you need me. You wouldn’t want to try it alone.”

  The pistol barrel wavered. Then it came back to bear on Shayne.

  “Take the next exit.”

  He slowed down. “That’s right, play it safe. You’re in a foreign country.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about you, really.”

  They came off onto a paved road that ran east to a small broken-down village on the bay. An improvised sign—“Consolidated-Famous”—pointed them into a dirt track that had been bulldozed through the thicket. This led to the set that had recently been constructed at the water’s edge by Consolidated technicians: a nineteenth-century colonial square, a governor’s palace, docks, fortifications, part of a town. Two ships were riding at anchor in the bay.

  There was a clearly defined frontier between reality and pretense. A guard stopped them; but recognizing Alix, he waved them on into a trailer encampment.

  There could be no doubt which of these trailers belonged to the company head. Still linked to the heavy tractor that had hauled it here, it was nearly as long as a railway car. A large American flag was painted on one side. A recessed spotlight picked out the company crest and Zion’s tiny initials beside the door.

  “He’s gone again,” Alix remarked as Shayne put the Buick into a parking space. “I think the secret is that he runs on atomic power. He’s tireless.”

  She indicated with the pistol that Shayne was to go in first. The interior of the trailer wouldn’t have seemed out of place in one of the new Collins Avenue condominiums or in a big-budget Hollywood movie of an earlier decade. The angora carpet was as white, as nubbly, as any of Oscar Olson’s. There were several oil paintings of famous actresses. Keko Brannon was there, but not Alix.

  “Larry?” she called. “As I thought, we have the house to ourselves. A drink?”

  “Would you like to go on with the conversation we were having?”

  “No. I think you are merely trying to cause trouble.”

  “I’m ready to go into more detail. You aren’t going to stay with this son-of-a-bitch forever. Why not split in a way that means something?”

  “I understood your suggestion, Mr. Shayne. But I know Larry, and I’m not fooling—I am frightened by him. You’ll find everything in that cabinet. Give me a bourbon and soda, with lots of soda.”

  Shayne made the drinks.

  “Can you call him? I’ve got a couple of things to finish in town.”

  “I could call him on his car phone; but when he is thinking, he doesn’t like to be interrupted unless it’s important; and he likes to decide himself what is important and what isn’t. You still don’t seem to understand. You are to remain here.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, so drink, and try to stop hustling.”

  She made a few repairs to her makeup. Shayne was watching; but as an actress, she was used to being watched.

  Presently, a car growled into the parking space; the door was unlocked from outside; and Larry Zion stumped in, wearing a walking cast on his left leg.

  Reminding himself that this man was in his sixties and had been in a bad accident eighteen hours before, Shayne checked his face for signs of weariness and pain and had no trouble finding them. The flesh was pinched at the corners of his eyes. The good tan covered other things. He looked amazingly fit, but Shayne didn’t think he could stay in motion much longer.

  He had removed his dark glasses to give Shayne a quick going-over. Having done that, he put them on again.

  “What happened?” he asked Alix. “Where are the boys?”

  “On their way, I expect. Mr. Shayne smashed up the cars.”

  Shayne smiled. “But Alix held a gun on me. This is a well-rounded girl, Larry. Sexy as hell, too. Congratulations.”

  “And he pointed out something to me,” Alix said. “That I was taking a certain risk and that I ought to be paid for it.”

  “I’ll write you a check in the morning.” Zion took two steps and collapsed into a chair, easing the cast out in front of him. “They made this damn thing too tight. Get me a drink.”

  “I have a deal for you, Mr. Zion,” Shayne said. “If I can guarantee the success of your slate, will you step aside and let Marcus take over the company?”

  Zion loosened his dark glasses to rub his nose. He accepted a glass from Alix.

  “Am I willing to let Markie take over? Is that a serious question?”

  “Everybody has to retire sometime, and you’re years overdue. Movie people ought to keep in touch with the public; and in your case, there’s too big a gap.”

  Alix circled past to sit in a chair where she could watch them. Zion continued to drink calmly, but the dark glasses didn’t entirely mask the wariness in his eyes.

  “Shayne, what the hell do you think your role is? Bringing you in was the stupidest move the kid ever made, and he’s not exactly known for his I.Q. He thought he was protecting me from the Thackera kook! Looking out for the health and welfare of the doddering old man! I need protection like I need a cast on my other leg. What excuse did he give you? And whatever it was, it was phony!”

  “I get used to that. I don’t think he was really worrying about your health and welfare. He thinks you killed Keko Brannon. He seems to hold it against you.”

  Zion’s response to that was a sidelong glance at Alix, who was studying her fingernails.

  “He thinks I killed Keko. I think he killed her. We can’t both be right. And have you heard the story that Oscar Olson did it? That was also going around. I think I’m going to say one thing to you; and then I’m going
to fall into bed, finally.”

  “It’s still early.”

  “For me, it’s late. If Markie killed her, it didn’t do anything for him. Afterward, he was still a schmuck. There are times when I like the kid. He’s a competent tennis player—merely competent. As far as I know, nobody has criticized his table manners. He knows wines. But he would be a total flop as the head of a major motion picture company. His judgment on picture material is atrocious. He has little or no iron in his backbone, which may very well be his father’s fault. If for any reason I should be forced to submit my resignation, I would use any influence I might have to make sure that Markie didn’t succeed me. Nothing personal. It’s just that I’ve become attached to those dividends.”

  “I’m told there haven’t been many of those lately. Why did you pull Kate Thackera out of the pirate picture?”

  “For the same good reason. Financial. I’m in business to make money. Stick to something you know, Shayne. We thought for a while that she was going to be big. But there was something slightly unpleasant about that broad. I don’t know what, but you couldn’t miss it up on the screen. It built from picture to picture. No, Buccaneer is my personal plaything. We have a two-million budget. If it grosses two million one, I’m the savior of the industry—and not for the first time. If it grosses one million nine, I’m out on my keister.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that Marcus promised to put her back in the picture if she could succeed in giving you another heart attack?”

  Alix stirred; it was possible that she was learning something new about her friend’s medical history. Zion emptied his glass and put it on the floor.

  “If so, they didn’t do a very good job of it, did they?”

  “One more question before you leave us… You’ll like this one.”

  Zion maneuvered himself onto the edge of his chair. “Shayne, I’m tired of you already. It didn’t take long, did it? What’s your question?”

  “Do you think all the bad luck you’ve been having lately has been accidental?”

  Zion rocked to his feet. His dark glasses looked blankly at Shayne.

  “What bad luck?”

  “You know better than I do. Somebody mentioned it. If people start thinking of Consolidated-Famous as a bad-luck outfit…”

  Zion moved impatiently. “What’s your point?”

  “There are still some undecided shares. Maybe they could put Olson over if they all went the same way. I think you’ll ride out this Thackera bombing. Oscar’s going to catch most of the trouble on that. There’s an interesting gatefold from his magazine, which I won’t go into. His personal secretary delivered the bomb to Kate’s room.”

  “Is that known for a fact?”

  “I’m not talking about facts. I’m talking about how things are going to sound on the morning news. A girl was seen, and the description seems to fit. She didn’t have to know she was delivering anything but a bottle of whiskey. She’s dead now, after a beating. The people who beat her up were definitely working for Oscar. How is this all going to affect those undecided votes?”

  Teeth flashed in the tanned face. “I’d say it favors the management, otherwise known as Larry Zion.”

  “Are you sure? Oscar comes out looking tough and clever. He rigged things so that if the girl weren’t seen, you’d be the one the cops would want to talk to in the morning. You’re the logical man because Kate did try to kill you, didn’t she? And the idea would be that you got to her before she could try again. Knowing Oscar just by his reputation, I’d be tempted to think he’s a bit soft. That revolving bed, all those willing girls. He likes to make himself too comfortable. Now he reverses all that with one move. I’m told it’s going to take real toughness to pull the company out of the hole.”

  “I’ll make a bet with you. We’re going to clobber the guy”

  “The night isn’t over yet. There’s time for some last minute spectacular to show the shareholders that the famous Zion luck is finally gone. If Oscar looks not only tougher and smarter but luckier…”

  “You’re getting at something. Say it.”

  “I’ve been listening hard all night. I get a faint rumble that something important is still under way. Some big, dramatic, last-minute catastrophe. I’m hoping you’ll have some idea, because a man named Turkey Gallagher is involved in it; and I want to talk to Turkey and get a deposition from him.”

  “Something important,” Zion repeated. “Some catastrophe.”

  “I know it’s vague. But that’s the way this whole thing has been all along. What can happen in the next five hours? You’ve got money invested in this set. What if it burned? What if your leading lady drank too many scotches before bedtime and didn’t get out?”

  “Mike Shayne, you’re a devil,” she murmured.

  Zion took off his glasses. “Do you have some definite indication that such a thing…”

  “I didn’t say definite. I said vague.”

  Zion sighed. “I was hoping to get some sleep. Evidently not.”

  A car arrived outside, hurrying.

  “There they are,” Alix said. “They must have had to steal a car.”

  Zion unlocked the door and called in two men. One of them wore glasses; the other, a heavy, drooping mustache. They were both about five ten, in their middle twenties, with medium haircuts. They probably thought they kept themselves in fair physical shape; but in any competition involving push-ups, Zion would undoubtedly have won.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Zion,” one said. “We just didn’t get a chance to establish position.”

  “Alix handled him. Give me another splash, baby.” She took his glass. He said to Shayne, “You should have come to me first. We could have worked something out.”

  “I was told you were under sedation.”

  “They thought I was under sedation. You’re going to spend time with these guys. This is Art. This is Jackie. They aren’t too good at bringing people in, but they should be able to see that you stay in one place. And for their sake, I hope so. There’s liquor. If you want to see a picture, tell Alix; and she’ll run one for you. Or you can sleep, which is something I wish I could be doing.”

  “Why don’t you use me?” Shayne said. “We’re on the same side.”

  “I doubt it. I’m afraid your main interest is locking somebody up for murder. That’s not my main interest. I want to hang onto the company and report a ten-million profit in the next fiscal year. I don’t want you bulling around. Talk to me after the meeting, and I’ll smile more.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Shayne told him.

  “I don’t think so. Will you stand up now, Shayne? I want Jackie to give you a fast clean-up. Take his money, Jackie, his identification, and anything he can use as a weapon. We’ll give it back to him tomorrow at noon. Make that one o’clock, to be safe.”

  “Why don’t we tape him up?” Jackie said.

  “Just the ankles so he won’t be thinking about jumping you. All we want to do is sideline him. We don’t want to make him sore. Tomorrow afternoon, we’re going to talk business; and I don’t want him to come into that conversation unhappy.”

  Taking Alix by one breast, he drew her aside and gave her instructions in a low voice. Jackie emptied Shayne’s pockets. Gathering everything up, he knotted it inside a pillow case. Larry took it with him when he left.

  “I thought for a moment that you would succeed in persuading him,” Alix said. “But he is a man of his own ideas. Let me say something about these two. Jackie, I don’t know. He has worked in studio security. As for Art, he has been in jail a good part of his life. What was your crime, Art?”

  Art laughed. “You could look it up.”

  “And he will go back to San Quentin prison automatically the minute Larry becomes dissatisfied with him. As for me, you know that I am dedicated to the prosperity of Larry Zion; and I will shoot you gladly if you make any trouble for me.” She crooked her finger at him. “Bang, bang. Outside there is a fence. There are guards along th
e fence with dogs. There are people sleeping in the trailers. So, be nice, please.”

  She went into the bathroom and came back with a spool of one-inch adhesive tape. At her suggestion, Shayne took off his shoes and socks. She knelt at his feet.

  “We’ll have some more drinks, listen to music. We won’t talk about murders or the motion picture industry.”

  She did a careful job. When she was finished, she came to her feet, put one hand on his shoulder, and kissed him hard. As she broke away, she bit his mouth.

  Shayne took her by the breast as Zion had done. “Is that how he usually hauls you around?”

  She withdrew from his hand. “It means nothing.”

  She put a string quartet on the record player and made drinks for herself and Shayne. Jackie asked for a beer.

  “No,” she said. “You are to stay totally sober. Mr. Shayne, I see that you feel a little unfriendly toward us; and Larry doesn’t want that. To get in your good graces, I’ll give you one of Larry’s special cigars.”

  She went off into the bedroom and came back with a cigar box, which she opened and offered to Shayne. “He imports these from Portugal. Cuban, of course.” The raised lid of the box concealed its contents from the other two men. Something Shayne had said had convinced her, or perhaps she had been intending this all along and had only delivered him to Zion as a way of protecting her foothold in Zion’s life. The box contained two cigars individually wrapped in silver foil and Shayne’s .38. She had snapped the revolver open so he could see that it was loaded.

  Chapter 14

  Shayne took one of the cigars; Alix, the other. She closed the box and put it on the table at Shayne’s elbow. They dressed the cigars and lit them from the same match.

  He breathed out smoke. “Will he still be able to afford these when he’s ex-chairman of the board?”

  “He has a large supply put away.”

  “We’ve got time to kill. Anybody want to play some gin?”

  Art said he was willing. Alix brought a deck of cards and moved a low table. She retired to the white sofa, where she curled up and blew expensive smoke at the ceiling. Jackie, more nervous, kept moving from one perch to another. Shayne gave his full attention to the cards and within half an hour had won $150 on paper.