Stranger in Town

by Brett Halliday

  “He was all of twenty-six,” Shayne told her drily. “Did you know all of Jeanette’s friends?”

  “I think so. All of her friends anyway.”

  “Did she have many?”

  “Scads. She was one of the most popular girls in the freshman class.”

  “Had you known her long?”

  “Ever since first year high-school. We used to live near Orlando until we moved to a farm near Diston two years ago.”

  “And she was on her way to visit you there when it happened?”

  There was the slightest indication of hesitancy before Lois answer firmly, “Yes. It was mid-term vacation beginning the fifteenth of last month.”

  “Did you ever hear of the Brockton Sanitarium, Lois?”

  This time there was no hesitancy in her reply. “That’s where they took Jeanette after the accident, wasn’t it? That’s the first I ever heard of it.”

  “When did you first learn about Jeanette’s accident?”

  “Early the next morning. Professor Henderson telephoned.” Lois shuddered and bit her underlip again. “I just couldn’t believe it at first. Not Jeanette. She was so… so vital if you know what I mean. So full of the joy of life. She was… wonderful,” she added softly.

  “Hadn’t you been worried about her not reaching your house?” Shayne put in fast. “After all, you expected her the preceding evening.” He was guessing on this point, but it seemed reasonable to assume that a seventeen-year-old girl driving her own car would plan to arrive at her destination at a reasonable hour.

  She was taken off base by the unexpected question and stammered, “I… I was surprised of course when she didn’t come and didn’t come. But I thought something had delayed her.”

  “And you just went calmly to sleep that night,” asked Shayne harshly, “without bothering to call her home to see if she had left on schedule?”

  Lois’ chin was set and her eyes flashed angrily as she faced Shayne again. “What right have you to ask me these questions? I had nothing to do with her accident.”

  Shayne hesitated a moment, assaying the temperament of the girl beside him. His first impression remained strong. A sensible and trustworthy girl. And loyal to her friend’s memory. If she were concealing anything derogatory, wild horses wouldn’t drag it from her unless she were given a good reason for revealing it.

  He said, “I don’t blame you, Lois, but I’m not just snooping for the fun of it. You know Jean Henderson, don’t you?”

  “Of course. What about her?”

  “I’m afraid she’s in trouble, Lois.”

  Amazement and utter disbelief spread over the young girl’s face. She cried, “Jean? I don’t believe it. She’s not the type. She doesn’t… why I just don’t believe it.”

  “I don’t know what type,” said Shayne wearily, “you expect to get into trouble, Lois. But I assure you that Jean is. And Brockton is the focal point again.”

  “I thought Jean had gone on a cruise with the Larches in Apalachicola.”

  “Her father also thinks that,” Shayne told her grimly. “But I saw Jean in Brockton last night. She’s in danger. In deadly danger, Lois. I’m working in the dark and I need any tiny bit of information I can get.”

  “But what’s she doing in Brockton?”

  “I don’t know. What,” asked Shayne deliberately, “was her younger sister doing in Brockton a month ago?”

  “But I’ve told you. She was on her way to visit me.” The girl’s voice was pleading. She avoided Shayne’s eyes, nervously twisting her fingers together in her lap.

  “And I don’t believe you,” Shayne told her promptly. “I’m convinced Jean’s presence in Brockton has some connection with her sister’s accident.” He was going out on a limb with that statement, but he had to convince the girl somehow and it was no time for half measures. “I tell you Jean is in danger and you’re the only one who can help me save her.”

  There was a little silence after Shayne’s purposefully melodramatic statement. Lois’ face was working and she swallowed back a sob before saying in a low voice, “I don’t see… how it can possibly help Jean for me to tell you. I just don’t see how…”

  “Tell me,” said Shayne gently, “and let me decide, Lois. In strict confidence,” he went on. “You’ve bottled it up too long. Jeanette is dead now. But her sister is still alive. Think of her father. He’s lost one daughter already…”

  “I… I don’t know.” Blinding tears streamed down Lois’ cheeks. She turned slowly, her girlish face a mask of fright and bewilderment.

  Shayne put his right arm tightly about her shaking shoulders and she convulsively buried her face against his shoulder and wept uncontrollably. He held her tightly until the sobbing subsided, then got a clean handkerchief from his left hip pocket and pressed it into her hand.

  He said, “Dry your eyes, Lois,” and got out a pack of cigarettes as she drew away shakily and dabbed the handkerchief at her wet cheeks. He held the pack out without looking at her and asked impersonally,

  “Want one?”

  “N-no thanks. I—I don’t smoke.”

  He lit one for himself and went on without looking at her. “What happened to Jeanette may not have a thing in the world to do with Jean. But I have to be sure, Lois. What did happen that night?”

  “Why, she had an accident and was killed. You know that. Not right off, but she died during an emergency operation. They said she never recovered consciousness.”

  “I know all that, but… tell me the whole truth, Lois.”

  “I will.” She spoke thinly, wetting her lips and staring straight ahead through the windshield. “She really wasn’t going to visit me. Except the last couple of days. It was something we fixed up. So her father and Jean wouldn’t know.”

  “Wouldn’t know what, Lois?”

  “That she was… well, that she was going off for a few days with… with a man. She didn’t tell me outright who it was, but I guessed and she didn’t deny it when I did. Because she had this sweetheart, you see. She was terribly in love with him and they were engaged but her father thought she was too young to be engaged and she was afraid to tell him. And he didn’t like for her to go around with Will. He wouldn’t let him come to their house to see her. It was all so thrilling and romantic. They were sort of going to elope, she said. But she was under-age and couldn’t get married yet. And she had a theory that every couple should… you know…” Lois’ cheeks blazed crimson but she forced herself to turn and meet Shayne’s grave eyes defiantly. “… well, sleep together before they got married. That way, they’d know, you see. Whether they were really suited or not. Anyhow, that’s what Jeanette thought, and she begged me to help her. So I did. She told her father she was coming to visit me all through the vacation and I promised not to give her away.”

  “Where did they plan to go?” Shayne asked carefully.

  “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me, except they had some place picked out where they’d pretend to be married and no one would ever know.”

  “Were they going to take her car?”

  “I don’t know. I guess so. I don’t think Will has one of his own.”

  Shayne drew in a long breath. “So he was probably with her in the car when it happened.”

  “I… I guess maybe he was,” she agreed miserably.

  “And you didn’t tell anyone this?”

  “Why should I have?” she demanded wildly. “It was done when I first heard. Jeanette was dead. Nothing in the world would change that. I felt so sorry for Professor Henderson. He just adored the ground Jeanette walked on. She was so much like her mother who died three years ago. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Promise me you won’t.”

  Shayne said, “I promised that whatever you told me would be in strict confidence. I agree that Professor Henderson must never know if it can possibly be avoided. Now tell me this, Lois. Did Jean know anything about her younger sister’s plan?”

  “Gosh no! I’m sure she didn’t. I don’t think sh
e even really knew about Jeanette being engaged. Jeanette wouldn’t dare tell her. Not that Jean’s a prude or anything. She’s just older and… different, sort of. She wouldn’t have understood and she certainly wouldn’t have approved. She would have done something to prevent it if she had known. I just don’t understand about her now,” faltered Lois. “What kind of danger is she in? Why is she in Brockton? Does Professor Henderson know about it?”

  “Not yet. He isn’t going to know if I can help it until Jean is safely home. Who is the Will, Jeanette was engaged to?”

  “Will… Lomax,” she said unwillingly. “Does he… will you have to tell him I told you?”

  Shayne shook his head. “No reason at all for him to know where I got my information. Is he in college here?”

  “Oh, no. He’s a town boy. I don’t know him really. I only saw him twice. Jean always slipped off alone when she went out on a date with him.”

  “Where will I find him?”

  “He lives here in town. I don’t know just where. I’m afraid he has a sort of wild reputation. He’s pretty old,” she confided. “About twenty-two or three, I guess. And he’s got a motorcycle and is a member of some sort of club that go around on their cycles. Jeanette told about riding on it behind him a couple of times on trips and what a thrill it was.”

  Shayne said, “I’ll find him in a town the size of Winter Park.” He lifted a big hand and put it on Lois’ shoulder and squeezed gently. “You’ve been wonderful. And a big help. Go on now and try to forget all about it. Don’t worry about having betrayed Jeanette’s confidence. If she were alive, I’m sure she would have done the same for her sister.”

  He leaned over behind her and unlatched the door on her side. “When you get engaged to some lucky man, try not to be too impatient. There are long, long years ahead for… what Jeanette didn’t want to wait for.” He felt choked up and paternal as the young girl responded to his advice with a wistful smile and slowly got out. He watched her walk slowly up the pathway toward the dormitory with bowed head, and then pulled away fast to begin his search for Will Lomax.

  13

  MICHAEL SHAYNE stopped in front of the first drug store he saw, went inside to consult the telephone directory. There was only one Lomax listed, and that number didn’t answer when he tried to call it.

  He emerged from the booth and went across to the prescription counter where an elderly, mild-faced man came from behind a partition to ask what he wanted.

  “I’m trying to locate a young man named Will Lomax. Do you know him?”

  “Would that be Jasper Lomax’s boy? Goodness me, I remember him in knee britches. Would he be a young man now? I guess he would at that. Time does fly, doesn’t it?”

  Shayne politely agreed that it did, and asked the druggist if he could suggest where to start looking for Jasper Lomax’s boy.

  “I couldn’t say for sure. You try phoning the house?”

  “They didn’t answer.”

  “Jasper drives a taxi. U-m-m, let’s see now. I recollect hearing recently something about Will. In some sort of trouble, I think. Nothing serious but some cussedness he’d got into. Tell you what. You walk down to the next corner where you’ll find Officer Herschel directing school traffic. He knows every kid in town and where they hang out.”

  Shayne thanked him and went down the street to the next corner where a big red-faced man was genially herding a group of small children across the street.

  The elderly policeman nodded at once when Shayne asked about Will Lomax. “Known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.” He studied Shayne keenly. “What was it you wanted him for?”

  “To ask a couple of questions about a college girl he’s been dating.”

  Herschel had to step out to halt traffic for another group of children, and when he returned to the curb he asked Shayne bluntly, “You a dick?”

  “Private. From Miami. Michael Shayne.”

  “Say. I’ve heard about you. This mean trouble for Willie?”

  “I don’t know. What sort of boy is he?”

  “Wild,” said the officer succinctly. “Not bad, but just a showoff. He’s got in with a gang that roars around the country on motorcycles. They got a sort of clubhouse where they hang out just out on the road to Sanford. If he ain’t there, they’d maybe know where he is.” Shayne got directions for finding the clubhouse and went back to his car. It was just outside the city limits, an old derelict farmhouse that was easily identified by four motorcycles parked in the yard in front.

  Shayne pulled into the driveway and got out. A hand-painted sign over the front door said, THE RED RAIDERS’ ROOST.

  He heard a juke-box playing inside as he went up on the sagging wooden porch to the door. He turned the knob and went in.

  There was a large square room brightly lighted by a hundred-watt bulb in the ceiling. The juke-box stood just to the right of the door, and there were a dozen or more rickety wooden chairs scattered about the bare floor. An ancient pool table was centered under the ceiling light, and two youths were playing rotation. In a far corner, another pair were on their knees shooting craps for small change, and three others were seated in chairs tilted back against the rear wall drinking beer out of cans.

  The pool and dice games came to an abrupt halt as Shayne walked in unannounced. Seven youthful faces turned in his direction as though jerked by strings, and seven pairs of eyes regarded him with animosity.

  They were all in their early twenties, and all dressed alike in what Shayne knew to be a sort of uniform worn by similar groups of young cyclists throughout the country. It consisted of tight-waisted Levis cinched low on swaggering hips with wide leather belts, and turned up high at the bottom so they came well above the ankles; dark T-shirts with the emblem of a racing motorcycle stitched in silver thread on the front; short, loose, black leather jackets that were uniformly unbuttoned; high, tightly-laced black leather half-boots, carefully shined to gleaming brightness.

  None of the seven said anything. They studied Shayne appraisingly, with a disdainful air of arrogant truculence which they made no effort to conceal.

  Shayne said, “Is Will Lomax here?”

  One of the pool players moved slowly toward him. He did not put down his cue, but reversed it so the heavy end hung downward. He was heavy-set and dark-browed, with pimples on his face and a front tooth missing. He said belligerently, “This here’s a private club, Mister. You ain’t been invited.”

  Shayne made an impatient gesture. “I was told in town I might find Will Lomax here. That your name?” He knew it wasn’t as he spoke. One of the trio drinking beer in tilted chairs at the back rocked forward so the front chair-legs thudded loudly on the floor. He stood up with his thumbs hooked in the front of the wide leather belt, and swaggered a little as he moved forward.

  He was tall and lean and moved with the fluid grace of a wild animal. His face was very dark, and a lock of black hair slanted downward across his forehead. There was a reckless glint in his black eyes, and he was quite handsome in a daredevil sort of way. The two crap players gathered up their dice and money and rocked back on their heels watchfully. The others remained as they were, tense and waiting.

  The tall youth stopped beside the cue-wielder and asked Shayne dispassionately, “What do you want with Will?”

  Shayne said, “I want to ask you a few questions. About Jeanette Henderson.”

  The dark face in front of him tightened. “What gives you the idea I’m the one you’re looking for?”

  Shayne shrugged impatiently. “Mind stepping outside with me where we can keep this private?”

  “Why, yes Mister.” The words were drawled out slowly and provocatively. “I reckon I do mind.” He turned his head slowly to rake his glance across the reinforcements behind him. Two more chairs thudded forward, and the dice players got to their feet.

  He turned back, and white teeth showed in his dark face in an insolent grin. “You a copper, or what?”

  The pimply-faced boy with the p
ool cue stepped two paces to one side and two paces forward so he stood directly on Shayne’s left. The others were lazily drifting forward.

  Shayne said wearily, “Cut out the tough kid stuff, Lomax. You either talk to me here or we go down to headquarters and talk.”

  “Hear that, fellows?” Will Lomax seemed vastly amused. “This here one’s real tough, I guess. Out-of-towner, too.” He swung back to sneer at Shayne. “What you carrying that says I go down to headquarters?” Out of the tail of his eye, Shayne saw the lad on his left set himself solidly and heft the heavy cue. He stepped forward fast and hit Lomax full in the face, knocking him sprawling on his back on the floor. At the same moment he whirled and ducked a wide swing of the cue stick and drove his left fist into the pit of the swinger’s belly.

  He collapsed with a grunt and the cue clattered to the floor. Shayne kicked it into a corner and turned to face the other six.

  The five on their feet had halted uncertainly in their advance. Two of them were fumbling in their pockets where Shayne supposed they had switch-blades concealed. Will Lomax was sitting up on the bare floor with blood gushing from his nose and a look of wild hatred on his twisted face.

  “Get wise to yourselves, punks,” Shayne advised them shortly. “Push me just a little bit more and I’ll take all of you in.” He strode toward them contemptuously and they sidled backward, glancing uncertainly at each other, bereft of leadership with Lomax ungallantly sitting on the floor holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

  Shayne stooped over him and caught the lapels of his leather jacket in his left hand and lifted him to his feet. He held him at arm’s length and told the others, “We’re going out to sit in my car and have a talk. First one of you comes through the door, I’m driving in with Will. Stay inside, and he may come back all in one piece.” He turned and went through the open door, dragging Will Lomax behind him. He heeled the door shut, pulled the dark-featured youth upright and shoved him across the porch toward his car. “Just forget about how tough you are, Sonny,” he advised him coldly. “I’m going to get some answers if I have to beat them out of you.” Lomax shambled ahead a few steps and then whirled about with clenched fists, sobbing, “Goddamn you. Goddamn you to hell! You goddamn smart bastard. Just because you’re bigger’n me.…”