“I heard shots. I didn’t think I was awake. I’m not even sure I’m awake now.”
Shayne emptied the coffeepot into his cup. “What would happen if this was a real kidnapping? Does your wife know where you keep your emergency money?”
“No.”
“Would she dig it up and hand it over the way living wives are supposed to?”
Canada moved impatiently. “I don’t know what you’ve heard—”
“That means probably not. How about your number two and your number three men?”
“You’ve made the point, Goddamn it. They’d go through the motions to make it look good, but there’d be some kind of foul-up. Too bad for Larry.”
“Who would get some bullet holes in him and join Eddie Maye at Woodlawn Park. Yeah, I thought there was more to it than money when you were trying so hard not to be kidnapped back there. And that’s why I know you’ll be glad to cooperate.”
“Put it in English. What happens if I don’t?”
“We send the ransom note, giving careful directions about where to deliver the money. We’ll be patient. If they can’t make the deadline, we’ll give them an extension. And when the money’s delivered, we’ll back away. We’ll let them know where they can find you—tied up in the back seat of a car on some back lane. We’ll go home and turn on the TV news and see what happens.”
Canada wiped his forehead with a napkin. “That’s cold-blooded murder.”
“It’s not exactly cold-blooded, Larry,” Shayne said softly. “If we hadn’t moved in on that scene in Homestead, it’s pretty much the fix you’d be in right now.”
Rourke put in, “I don’t like to interrupt when you’re working, Mike, but I’m not sure I follow. Two separate groups. One wants to grab him so they can raise money on him. And that would be bad for Larry because he can’t count on his own people to follow instructions. Or else they come through with the money O.K., but the hit-men get to Larry before anybody else does. Bad either way.”
Canada went over his forehead again with the napkin. He seemed to agree with the diagnosis.
Shayne said, “And I think he’s ready to fill in a few details. Who’s the opposition, Larry? Who’s paying those guys who set the trailer on fire?”
“DelSarto?” Rourke suggested when Canada failed to answer. “Bottles Martino?”
“Bottles?” Canada said sharply. “Do you have any reason to—”
“Out of a hat,” Rourke said, laughing. “Larry, you’re on edge.”
“Who wouldn’t be? There are guys in town from New York, that much I know. The Eddie Maye knock-over—what do you think those were, kidnappers? That’s what they wanted us to think. Eddie was keeping me posted that there’s one certain person who wants all the marbles. And that’s hard to defend against, you know? What do you do usually? Put on some extra guards. Travel around with an army until it dies down. But that’s the act I’m trying to get away from. I’m trying to say that’s all in the past. If I show up at those Tallahassee hearings with my own Secret Service protection, I don’t look like your ordinary highway construction man, do I?”
“Let’s take a minute on Eddie,” Shayne said. “Was he telling you anything you didn’t already know?”
“I had my ideas, nothing definite. One name kept popping up. We aren’t on the best of terms lately. We’ve grown apart. He’s been seeing my wife on the sly, which is one of the things I happen to know.”
“So if we wrap you up and leave you somewhere—”
“And let them know where? I’d weigh fifteen more pounds from the bullets. And you don’t call that murder? What do you say, Frieda? You look like a smart girl.”
She gave him one of her nicest smiles. “Whatever you call it, the point is, it’s believable. It’s something any one of us could easily do. Couldn’t you in our place?”
“Now the nice guys and the bad guys are all mixed up together. I learn something new about human nature every day. Now we get to the deal. What are you offering me, Shayne?”
“A happy ending in return for some information.”
“A lot of information,” Rourke corrected him.
Canada tasted the coffee. He wanted it badly, but he wasn’t quite able to force it down. “Where do we start?”
“Were still on Eddie Maye. If that wasn’t a real kidnapping, what was it?”
“I’d call it a hit, but then I believe in calling things by their right names. He was approached for his support by the people who want to take over. I encouraged him to string them along. He was lining up people for them, supposedly. Collecting funds. Hell, I might as well spell it. DeLuca. Lou DeLuca. I made that guy, brought him up out of nowhere, gave him responsible jobs.”
“DeLuca?” Rourke said.
“What’s the matter, never heard of him? That’s the way Lou likes it. He cooks the books, basically. He counts the money, doesn’t do anything about bringing it in. What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. That woman Eddie was supposed to be seeing. She was the contact so they wouldn’t have to talk direct. Lou found out he was reporting to me, and he had it done. These same New York characters, I wouldn’t be too surprised. Not out in the open, that’s not how Lou does things. He’d rather sneak anytime. The kidnapping note—window dressing. I don’t have the same solid support I did once, but I’ve still got some debts I can collect around town. He’d know he was in a fight, I can tell you that. So he’s tiptoeing. If he can do me the way he did Eddie, fine, all to the good. Is that all you wanted to know? Can I go home now?”
Everybody laughed. He said gloomily, “No, I didn’t think so.”
“Tim has some questions about the way highways get built in this state,” Shayne said. “Who gets paid off, how often, how much. Who’s been making the real estate money. The Palm Beach interchange would be a good place to start. Tim has it all at the tip of his tongue. Which inspectors look the other way when you go under the specs. We want the whole thing, Larry, from the Tallahassee lobby down to the kickbacks to the Highway Patrol from the tow-truck guys. The insurance deals. The law fees. The sweetheart contracts.”
Canada was looking from face to face, very uneasy. “That’s asking a hell of a lot.”
“I don’t think so,” Shayne said curtly. “We want you to talk to a tape recorder. Then we’ll do a formal version on the typewriter so you can sign it.”
“That could get me quite a bundle of years.”
“You may decide to go along with the state’s attorney and get him to leave your name out of the indictment. Wait and see how it goes. Meanwhile you’ll be eating and drinking and enjoying yourself. You can’t do any of those things if you’re dead.”
Frieda said thoughtfully, “I’m beginning to see where you are, Mike. Even if you don’t get any convictions, you’ll stop the highway.”
“You’re dreaming,” Canada said scornfully. “Once those dotted lines go down on the map, that road is built.”
“Maybe not this time. You’ve had the momentum, but this could turn it around.”
“We’ve already got the interchanges at both ends, for Christ’s sake.”
“Let them alone for a few years, and the jungle will come back.”
“Then that’s part of the deal? I don’t bid on the new job?”
“No, Larry. We want you to bid, and then we want you to tell us how you rigged it with Gold so you’ll turn out to be low.”
After a moment Canada said slowly, “I can see I’m not going to be the most popular man in Miami.”
“Except with the birdwatchers. They’ll give you a certificate. Are you hungry? We can drive to Frieda’s and see what she has in the refrigerator. You and Tim can talk on the way.”
“I have another coffee cake with only one piece out of it,” Frieda said. “Most of a ham.”
“Very funny,” Canada said bitterly. “I was in a hurry last night, and I only had time for a light supper. I’ve been rolled around and bounced around and people have been trying to kill me. Now you lay ou
t the terms—the least that can happen, I’m through in the construction business. Goddamn right, I’m hungry.”
“We’ll drive fast.”
“Do that. I want to be home for breakfast. Things to get underway.”
“Such as putting people on the street against DeLuca? No, Larry. I want somebody for Eddie Maye. Let’s send the ransom note and see what happens.”
“I already told you what will happen.”
“But wouldn’t you like to make sure? Then you’ll know who’s for and against.”
“I was hijacked once. They’ll have sense enough not to try it a second time.”
“Again, maybe not. They’ve got a lot invested. If we work it right, we can bring everybody out in the open. Don’t worry, Larry. You’re our bait, but you’re also our one big witness. We don’t want to lose you.”
Chapter 16
DeLuca didn’t get a hell of a lot of sleep. Greco had been told to call him the instant it happened, or the instant it failed to happen. DeLuca kept sitting up in bed to look at the time. He almost wished he had gone along. You couldn’t, though. That was the reason for armies, so the general can live to become president of Lockheed or General Dynamics.
His wife asked if he felt like being rubbed. That was her expression for making love. He said no, too much on his mind. He went to sleep finally. A few minutes later the clock went off, bringing him out of a crazy dream in which Canada lay on top of him with his full weight. He almost skipped his exercises this morning. He had never felt less like push-ups and bends. But for five years he had never missed a day, feeling that if he ever started to take it easy he would go all the way, back to cigarettes, back to the days when he was the humble accountant. So he forced himself to complete the full battery.
Greco called from downstairs while he was drinking his vegetable juice. It was O.K.! It had gone according to plan!
DeLuca took the six thousand he still owed the boys and went downstairs. Greco looked as though he had crawled first through a sewer, then through a blackberry thicket. He broke into a happy smile, which DeLuca returned. Mission accomplished, right? DeLuca passed the money and went back to his apartment. He skipped rope hard for fifteen minutes until he was able to stop grinning.
The first thing he did when he got to the office was call a meeting. He was making a list of things to be covered, when a thought struck him. Greco had described the scene in full detail, but before DeLuca went all the way out, he had better make sure.
He called the sheriff’s office, identified himself as a UPI man, and asked for confirmation. Indeed, he was told, a thirty-foot trailer had caught fire on the Interstate early that morning. Destruction was total. In the ashes the firemen had discovered the blackened remains of an adult male who had apparently been asleep in one of the bedrooms. A bit taller than average. The pickup that had been hauling the trailer was registered to a man named Allan Vaughan, who happened to be in jail at that moment on drug charges. They were figuring that the rig had been stolen.
When the others arrived, DeLuca, his face grave, announced that their friend Larry Canada had disappeared. His badly smashed Cadillac had been discovered at the Homestead construction site, and all in all, it didn’t look good. This might be one of those cases where the body would never be found. DeLuca was sorry to be announcing such bad news because Canada had accomplished a lot and he would be missed. But certain changes, in De Luca’s opinion, were overdue. Instead of waiting on further news, he proposed that the changes be put in effect at once.
Whether the others thought he had arranged this himself or was merely taking advantage of Canada’s absence, they seemed to accept the way he was taking over. His secretary broke in.
“Molly Canada—she says it’s very important. Can you take it?”
“Ask her to hold.”
He adjourned the meeting. As soon as the others were out of the office, he took the call.
“He’s alive!” Mrs. Canada cried into the phone. “They want one million dollars!”
DeLuca smiled, then erased it quickly so it wouldn’t show in his voice. “Now, Molly, somebody’s trying to pull something. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. I should have called earlier, but I was hoping against hope—”
“Lou, my God, what are you saying—”
“Get hold of yourself. You knew from the first minute we had to consider the possibility. You know he had enemies.”
“He’s dead?”
“Molly, I’m afraid so. The information I have, the vehicle he was riding in caught on fire, and well, he didn’t get out. I couldn’t be sorrier. Oh, we had differences, but there was one thing about Larry—nobody could ever accuse him of being anything but totally sincere.”
“Lou, his voice sounded so—”
“Sounded, what do you mean, sounded?”
“I got a tape. Lou, a million dollars!”
DeLuca had a good grip on the phone. A tape—when did those construction guys have a minute to make a tape, if they just happened to luck into the kidnapping when they were in there stealing tools? He’d better get over and take charge of that tape so it wouldn’t confuse things during the changeover.
“And then on the phone—” she was saying.
“The phone!” DeLuca came out of his chair, and only the force of gravity kept him from going further. “He talked to you on the phone? When?”
“Lou, I’m so—”
“Please, Molly. This is very important.”
“Maybe half an hour ago? An hour? He said not to call anybody until I listened to the tape. It was all staticky and there were car noises—It caught fire? Why did it catch fire?”
DeLuca said carefully, “Molly, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Make yourself a cup of tea and put some whiskey in it. I’ll take care of everything.”
He slammed the phone down and left at a run, checking his pace abruptly when he saw that the four men from the meeting were still at the elevator. They rode down together. Two of these men had national connections by kinship and marriage. In theory, they were all Canada’s men. If by some crazy chance Canada was still alive, DeLuca’s imprudent remarks of a moment ago would be reported back. DeLuca had moved boldly and decisively. As far as these men knew, he couldn’t be sure Canada was dead unless he had ordered the killing himself, quite a step for the number man. But to exploit the disappearance without being sure of the death took an equal amount of balls. Either way, DeLuca couldn’t back down. He had announced the revolution. It was stomp or be stomped on.
One of them asked if he was keeping up with his tennis.
“Every day.” He almost succeeded in smiling. “Maybe I’ll have to skip the next couple. Plenty to do!”
They parted on the sidewalk with another round of handshakes and smiles. He drove to the island, and Molly Canada let him in. She had taken his advice about the tea with whiskey in it, omitting the tea. She was shaky on her high heels. She fell toward him and clung. She had a damp Kleenex in her hand, but she might have done that with tap water to make him think she had been crying.
He moved her to the sofa. “Start with the phone call, Molly. You picked up the phone and a voice said, ‘This is Larry.’ Go on from there.”
But she couldn’t do it like that. She had to do the full scene, with more Kleenex. He finally extracted the information that the phone conversation had included questions and answers and thus couldn’t have been taped in advance. It was definitely her husband’s voice, not some clever mimic imitating a dead man. In Greco’s version—and what DeLuca was going to do to that kid!—Canada had gone up in flames between two-thirty and three in the morning. Nevertheless, it now seemed, he had been alive at nine, ordering his wife to stay home because a package was going to be delivered and he didn’t want her to be off at the beauty parlor. As she said this, Mrs. Canada’s hand flew to her hair. What else? That he was the prisoner of some determined and dedicated people who were not to be fooled with.
“And he said one particularly cruel thing,”
she said with an upward look. “He has all his personal cash in a place nobody can find it, and if anything happens to him, all I’ll have is the house, not a single other penny. It was Larry, all right. That was a Larry touch, completely uncalled for.”
“Now let’s hear the tape,” DeLuca said grimly.
The kidnappers had provided not only a cassette, but a tape recorder to play it on. She had trouble with the controls and pressed the erase button by mistake. DeLuca caught it in time.
Canada’s voice sounded tired and a little forced, as though he were reading a statement prepared for him by someone else. “I have been kidnapped. I am in serious danger. These are serious people. I have been treated O.K. so far. Do not under any circumstances inform the police. Do not attempt to cut corners or depart from instructions unless you would like to be a widow. Tell Lou DeLuca, nobody else. They want one million dollars. I suggest half from the construction company, half from friends. Fifty-and hundred-dollar bills. Do not try to bait the bills or record serial numbers. Lou has one assignment from me. Get the money together, and don’t try any fancy stuff, there is no way it can be done. At four-thirty exactly, four-thirty on the dot, Lou will come out of our house with the money in a suitcase. Alone. Drive slowly to the south parking lot of Miami High School. There he will find a red pickup. It will be equipped with a citizen-band radio. Do not change channels, Lou. Turn it on. Drive west on 395 at exactly forty miles per hour. You will receive further instructions by radio. If anybody does anything foolish, like being a half hour late or a couple of thousand short, three things will happen. I will be shot. You will be shot, Molly. And Lou will be shot. That’s what they promise, and I believe them. If there aren’t any snags, I’ll be home for supper. Make something good.”
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