Painter started to say something but choked over the words. He turned abruptly and stamped away with his shoulders squared and his head high.
“You played the part damn well,” Shayne said to Barton. “Your story about the stolen military plans was a masterpiece and I would have believed it if I hadn’t known you were a phony.”
“For God’s sakes,” pleaded Gentry, “say something that makes sense, Mike. You mean there weren’t any stolen plans?”
“For all I know, government plans are being stolen every day. But not in this case. This is merely the hundred grand swag from a holdup that was supposed to be divided three ways. Barton did a magnificent job of mixing fact with fiction in a desperate attempt to get hold of that suitcase. His spy story contained just enough of the truth to make it plausible.”
Shayne paused and laughed at the bemused expressions on the faces of Gentry and Rourke. Rourke’s lips were swollen from the tape. He wet them and started to say something.
Shayne urged, “Don’t take it so hard. You both had two strikes on you because you accepted Barton as an FBI. I knew he wasn’t, because Painter had told me about the telegram which was supposedly sent by Hoover. I don’t get any credit for figuring it out on that basis.” He looked straight at Rourke and added, “Past records don’t seem to mean much around here, anyway.”
Rourke again moistened his sticky lips and started to say something. His face was very red.
Shayne shrugged and turned to J. Winthrop Barton. “I suppose you have a key to that suitcase. It has the appearance of belonging to a Wall Street broker.”
“Yes,” Barton admitted. He fumbled in his pocket, studying Shayne through narrowed eyes. His lips were compressed. He said, “Your guesses seem to be quite correct.”
“It wasn’t all guesswork. You caught a train from New York the afternoon of the holdup-the paper said the junior member of the firm was recalled from a vacation trip to the Caribbean-and you were the only one connected with the crime who did leave New York. The money had completely disappeared.” Shayne spread out his manacled hands. “When you told the story of the claim check torn into three pieces I knew you and Lacy and Morgan must have planned the holdup and got the money out of town that way.”
Barton knelt by the pigskin suitcase with a small flat key in his hand. He showed the same composure now that had aided his masquerade as a G-man. He sighed as the suitcase came open. “There you are, Mr. Shayne.”
Rourke’s eyes popped out on stems. He stooped down with Gentry and Shayne to look at the contents of the suitcase. Nestled among rumpled clothing, a short length of bright steel chain was attached to the money bag, and it was still locked with two heavy padlocks.
Shayne nodded and told Gentry, “There’s supposed to be over a hundred grand there.”
He turned to Barton. “There’s only one thing I don’t understand. Why in the name of God did you and Lacy and Helen and Morgan sit around two months without doing anything about claiming this?”
Barton smiled grimly. “I doubt whether you will believe my explanation, but it happens to be true.” He sighed, “You see, I have a conscience.”
“Not enough of one to prevent you from helping plan and carry out a fake holdup.”
The broker compressed his lips. “That was entirely different. The loss was covered by Lacy’s bond. And I was desperate for cash. When one has a wife who-but I need not go into that. No, Mr. Shayne. I did not balk at tipping off Lacy when he carried an exceptionally valuable load, and helping to dispose of the loot. But my conscience simply would not allow me to help steal the money again from one of my partners who was in jail for a crime of which I was equally guilty. I started plans at once to effect Morgan’s release from prison-hoping to accomplish that before the suitcase was sold at auction as unclaimed baggage.”
“Lacy and Helen Morgan tried to get you to throw in with them,” Shayne guessed. “But you refused to double-cross Mace Morgan.”
“That,” Barton told him, “is correct.”
“And you held the whip hand with your third of the claim check-until an ex-con named Harry Houseman held you up and got the piece of cardboard from your safe. You knew he and Lacy were getting together to cut both you and Morgan out. So you got in touch with Morgan, bribed a guard to help him escape, and gave him money to come to Florida. But you were afraid Morgan might fail to stop Houseman and Lacy, so you went to Washington and bribed a telegraph agent to send a fake wire over Hoover’s name-hoping it would serve to hold Lacy until you got here.”
“I still don’t get half this talk,” Gentry rumbled. “Here, let me unlock those cuffs, Mike. Who is Harry Houseman?”
Shayne held out his hands. “Horse-face, whom Barton gut-shot in the restroom just now to keep the beans from being spilled. He used the name of Gorstmann in Miami,” Shayne went on, “and he faked a story of Gestapo terrorism to force Otto Phleugar to give him the job of headwaiter at the Danube Restaurant. He had a good reason for doing that because the New York police wanted him for robbery and he knew about the close check we keep on criminal haunts here in Miami. By getting a legitimate job at the Danube he had a much better chance of avoiding arrest while he arranged to grab the loot. Had me fooled for a time,” Shayne said ruefully, “because it seemed to tie up with Barton’s concocted spy story.”
“Gorstmann? The fellow whose car was used yesterday?”
Shayne nodded. “His two torpedoes were driving it when they stopped Lacy on the causeway.”
Gentry transferred the handcuffs to the Wall Street broker, who held his wrists out to receive them. There was a look of acceptance on Barton’s face, as though he was glad the whole thing was over.
Tim Rourke grabbed Shayne’s arm as the redhead started to turn away. “You knew all along this guy’s spy story was a fairy tale,” he charged. “Why in hell didn’t you tip me off, Mike?”
“And have you spread it on the front page? In the first place I wanted Barton to play his string out. I didn’t actually know where all the pieces of the claim check were until early this morning. And by that time it was too late to tell you anything. Neither you nor Gentry would have believed a word I said.”
“If that bag is what you say it is,” Gentry interrupted gruffly, “there’ll be a nice reward from the bonding company for you, Mike.”
Shayne grinned. “I’ll have to admit that playing it this way to the end I won’t have to split the reward money half a dozen ways. That might have had something to do with me keeping my mouth shut all along.” He swung away, adding, “I think I have a wife waiting for me at home-with another thousand I collected by being cagey.”
He paused, struck by a sudden thought. He turned back. “That reminds me of something, Will. I’ve got two hundred bucks that belongs to Jim Lacy or his estate. Now that I’ve managed to collect a fee from other sources, I’ll turn it over to you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The eyes of the desk clerk lighted up when Shayne stepped into the lobby of his hotel. He leaned across the desk and called, “I’m glad your wife got back okay, Mr. Shayne. You looked worried last night.”
Shayne said, “I was worried. Did she come in by herself?”
“Well, I didn’t see her come in. But I was on the switchboard when she put in that call last night. I’ll tell you, her voice sounded good to me.”
Shayne halted on his way to the elevators. He frowned and went back to the desk. “Did you say Phyllis put in a call last night?”
“Sure. Not long after Mr. Gentry called you. I didn’t listen in more than enough to find out it was Mr. Gentry calling,” he added hastily. “But I knew something was up because you had told me to trace any calls.”
Shayne said, “That’s all right.”
“So when Mrs. Shayne made the call I knew she was home again. She must’ve gone up the service stairs.”
Shayne said, “She must have. But I appreciate your interest,” and went on to the elevator.
Phyllis met him with a rus
h when he opened the door. He caught her up in his arms and held her tightly for a moment. “Is everything okay, angel? Those mugs didn’t hurt you?”
“Not a bit. That headwaiter at the Danube-seemed to be the boss. Oh, Mike, did things turn out all right? I’ve been frightened. From the terrible things Tim said about you when I untied him-”
“Everything turned out swell.” Shayne interrupted her with a hearty laugh. “Is Tim’s face red! But he got his story and I got-what I wanted. But the next time I have a case you’re going to be locked in a padded cell. I’ll see to that.” He picked her up and carried her across the room and dumped her into a chair, stood over her with hands placed on his hips. “Tell me why the devil you disobeyed my orders and left the Danube. I had some bad moments on account of you last night.”
“I’m sorry, Mike. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. That girl-the one with the heliotrope perfume-kept watching me and I was sure she’d seen me with you before you left the table. Then I got the impression that she was planning to slip out while you were gone, so when that gunman came in and spoke to her and they left together I thought you’d want me to follow her.” She smiled up at her husband.
“You lie,” Shayne told her. “You know I never want you to do such a thing. Good God, angel, you’re not the type to cope with a gang of killers-guys like we were forced to entertain yesterday afternoon.”
“I found that out,” she confessed. “I’m pretty sure now that she told Leroy who I was and they acted as they did to decoy me outside where they could grab me. Because Leroy and that other man were waiting right outside the door and they threw a sack over my head as I stepped out. I didn’t see the girl again.”
Shayne stood very still. “You didn’t take any taxi ride? You’re sure Leroy helped grab you right at the door?”
“Of course I’m sure. They took me to a storeroom at the rear of the restaurant. What do you mean about a taxi ride?”
Shayne shook his head wonderingly. He said, “I’ve listened to so many lies in the past fifteen hours that I feel punch drunk, and I haven’t had a drink for hours.”
He tugged at his ear, then went into the bedroom and called the Tidewater Hotel. He asked if they had an Ann Adams registered, and was connected with room 212.
When Helen answered, he said, “Hi, toots. This is your redheaded boy friend. Remember me?”
He nodded, listening, cocked a shaggy eyebrow at Phyllis, who had followed him and stood by with a belligerent light in her dark eyes.
“That’s what I thought,” Shayne said into the transmitter. “Sit tight and I’ll be over to settle with you.”
He cradled the phone and swung around to face his wife. She sniffed the air of the bedroom with wrinkled nose. “The bed is mussed and I smell heliotrope,” she charged. “Mike Shayne, you had that female here last night.”
“Only a part of the night.” He put his hands on her shoulders and moved her out of the doorway. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I’ve got a date with a blonde.”
“A date? When you’ve hardly even seen me after being locked up all night?”
“This blonde uses heliotrope perfume,” Shayne said. “You heard me promise I’d be right over. I owe her something, and you know how I am about paying my obligations, angel.”
Phyllis said, “Maybe I’d better buy a quart of heliotrope and a gallon of peroxide to blondine my hair. I could-”
Shayne was going out the door and she gave up in disgust. Sometimes Michael Shayne could be the damnedest man.
In the lobby of the Tidewater Hotel on Flagler Street, Shayne went directly to an elevator and said, “Two.” When he stepped out, he looked at the room numbers and strode down a corridor to 212.
He rapped on the door, and Helen opened it immediately. Her gray silk dress was wrinkled, as though it had been slept in. She swayed as she faced him. He smelled whisky on her breath and looked past her to see an almost empty bottle on the bedside table.
She pouted her lips and said, “Well, you took your time to come see me.”
He stepped past her. “You’re drunk,” he said.
“Well, why shouldn’t I be drunk. What else was there to do? Did you expect me to sit here and go nuts? I’m afraid to go out-didn’t know what might happen.” She swayed past him and sank down on her unmade bed.
Shayne didn’t answer her. He prowled through the room, peering into the bathroom and the clothes closet.
Helen lay back on the pillow and laughed at him. “A person would think you were jealous. Want to look under the bed, too?”
Shayne said, “I always check a hotel room when I’m visiting a female like you. Never know when you’ll think up a new variation of the badger game-like last night.”
“Last night?” Helen’s eyes didn’t quite focus on his face.
“Have you forgotten last night already?” He whirled toward her. “Good God, is that all a murder means to you?”
“Murder is an ugly word.” She tried to be coquettish with her eyelashes.
Shayne pulled up a straight chair and sat down. “Let’s go back beyond last night. Let’s go back to New York.”
“Damn New York,” she broke in pettishly. “I’m dying to know what’s happened. Did you make a cleanup?”
Shayne shrugged. “I did all right. A grand from Houseman. And I guess there’ll be a hunk of reward money from the bonding company.”
“Reward money?” She shrank back. “You double-crossed him-turned him in?”
“Suppose I did? Wouldn’t you call that smart?”
“Maybe it was at that. With all the heat on Houseman.” She laughed weakly. “Christ, but you’re a card. And I thought at first you were dumb. Reward money? Well, don’t I get my split? If I hadn’t told you how things were, you’d never have figured that angle.”
Shayne said, “If you hadn’t lied every time you opened your mouth, I might not have checked too closely. But don’t worry, you’ll get everything that’s coming to you. And I guess you do deserve something. You fingered Morgan for the New York rap, didn’t you-after he had given you his piece of the claim check? The papers said the police were tipped off by an anonymous informant.”
“Sure I did.” She giggled. “I helped him plan the whole job-shipping the money here and all.”
“But Barton crossed you and Lacy up,” Shayne said sympathetically. “He had a third of the claim check and he wouldn’t play ball-simply because you’d framed Mace.”
“That’s right. Can you feature a cluck like that? Claimed it wouldn’t be honorable as long as Mace was up the river. And a hundred grand sitting here in Miami to be picked up.”
“Some people,” said Shayne, “have screwy ideas about honor. So when Harry Houseman came along from the clink and made an offer for Mace’s piece of cardboard, you figured you were playing him for a sap by selling it to him-because you didn’t think it would be any more use to him than it was to you.”
“Look. How do you figure all these angles?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’ve just been adding things up the way I know your mind works. You must have been plenty sore when you read about Houseman robbing Barton’s apartment.”
“I’ll say. What a boob I was to sell him Mace’s piece for a lousy grand. When Lacy skipped town I knew he’d thrown in with Houseman and they were cutting me out. So I grabbed a train, too. And when I got here I found them arguing over the split. Houseman held out for two thirds on account of he had two thirds of the claim check, but Lacy held out for a fifty-fifty split.”
“And you threw in with Houseman,” Shayne guessed, “because he had two of his old mob with him and Lacy was playing a lone hand.”
“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” she asked thickly.
Shayne shrugged and pressed on. “In the meantime, Mace had got word of the double cross he was getting from his wife and buddy and he crashed out and came down.”
“Yeh. Frothing at the kisser. He was gunning for Jim and me-but wanti
ng his cut of the money. He’d given us until last night to kick through.” She shuddered. “That’s why he had to be taken care of.”
“And that’s why you planned last night’s kill.” Shayne’s lips came back from his teeth. “Using me for a decoy and putting me on the spot so I had to cover up for you.”
“No. I swear I didn’t plan it. It was an accident-Mace coming there-”
“You got my wife out of the way to set the scene and hurried over with a long lie about not knowing what had happened to her. And I halfway believed you, God help me.”
“Well, I did want a chance to talk to you alone,” she admitted sullenly.
“You got a better chance than you expected. You crawled into bed and telephoned Mace to come to my apartment-not telling him you were there, but that I had Lacy’s piece of the claim check.”
“I did not,” she cried wildly. “I didn’t know he was coming. I was so scared when he caught me there. When I heard him talking-”
“With the bedroom door closed tightly,” Shayne cut in.
“Sure.” She widened her blue eyes. “I recognized his voice right away.”
“You’re still lying like hell. When you were in the closet later with the door cracked open you couldn’t hear anything that was said by Pearson and Gentry and Rourke.”
“All right, you-you devil. What of it? You fell for it, all right. You were stuck with a dead man and well knew it. You couldn’t afford to have that silly wife of yours find out you had another woman in her bed and got caught by the woman’s husband. You think you’re so damned smart. Think your way out of that one.”
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