“Are you going to?”
“Not if you say I shouldn’t. I didn’t like the way he sounded. He’s certainly no diplomat, is he?”
“Did you make those calls?”
“I did, Mr. Shayne, but I don’t think they believed me. Mr. Berger especially. He was really abusive! I have a number for Tim Rourke, if you want to talk to him.”
“Yeah, get him for me.”
While she dialed, Shayne told Adele, “Slide over. I want you to hear this. Of course I might have set it up just for you, but I’ve been pretty busy the last fifteen minutes.”
Rourke’s voice said cautiously, “Hold on a minute till I take care of something.” Shayne heard a muffled conversation and the sound of a closing door. When Rourke came back he said, “Where are you?”
“In Miami,” Shayne said.
“Then maybe you better get out of Miami. If there’s a rocket leaving for some other planet, see if you can thumb a ride. All I have to say is, Je-sus Christ!”
“I agree with you, Tim.”
He had the phone in his left hand, tipping it so some of the sound would spill out. Adele’s cheek was against his hand.
“This is insane, Mike! I’m in Room Seven-oh-three. Ditch that car and get to another phone. Every cop in town is watching for your Buick.”
“I’ve already ditched it. I pulled the phone and took it with me.”
“Mike, you’re being a little too cool. Use your imagination. Crowther died on the floor with Berger on top of him. Shot in the neck and the head. All three cameras caught the action, including that right hook you hung on Berger. Everybody’s feeling very, very jittery. When you walk in, don’t be too hard-nosed, because those trigger fingers are going to be itching. Damn it, I can’t think straight. This has got to be handled. I think if I set up a meeting somewhere with you and Will Gentry, just you and Will—”
“Not now, Tim. Has Camilla been picked up yet?”
“No. She took the elevator to the basement and went out the service entrance. The idea is that somebody was waiting for her in a car. She dropped the gun in the elevator. A Stehyr, a Czech automatic, seven millimeter, which means it takes a twenty-five caliber bullet.”
Shayne thought for a moment. Adele put her fingers into the palm of his hand.
Rourke went on earnestly, “Mike, you’ve got to believe me. This is one time you can’t get away with your usual tactics. It isn’t just a couple of jerks like Painter. The FBI is swarming! The longer you stay out there the worse it’s going to be. You absolutely can’t hold out against this kind of pressure.”
“It seems to me I’ve got to.”
“No, Mike. We’ll think of a way you can surrender without getting yourself shot. Let the dust settle. In a couple of days, after everybody calms down—”
“You aren’t usually this hysterical,” Shayne commented. “Has something else happened I don’t know about?”
“They found out about the tickets.”
“What tickets?”
“Her badge had the name Doris Myerson. On the seating plan, Mrs. Myerson had the seat next to Mr. Michael Shayne.”
Shayne snorted. “Anybody can order tickets by mail. You don’t think I actually worked this all out with Camilla, do you?”
“If you mean did you know she was going to shoot him, hell, no. I just think it’s one time when somebody beat you by a step.”
“Who?”
“Camilla, Crowther, Ruiz—how do I know? I’ll tell you my personal theory, and it’s the mildest version going around, believe me. I think you agreed to get her into the ballroom so she could jump up when Crowther started his speech and yell ‘Murderer!’ or something. And she crossed you. But everybody else thinks you slowed Crowther down so she could shoot him, and then when Berger got his gun out faster than you expected, you lost your cool.”
“How does that explain the bullet holes?”
“Well, Mike,” Rourke said slowly, “you have to admit there’s something funny about those bullet holes. They’re in the wrong place, to begin with. I showed them to Berger. He’s not exactly open-minded on the subject of Mike Shayne. His top-of-the-head reaction was that you put them there yourself, so you could claim you thought she’d be shooting blanks, if you follow me.”
“I follow you,” Shayne said. “Are you going to be in that room for a while?”
“I rented it for the paper, to be near the action. But I don’t like to tie myself down to the phone, if that’s what you mean.”
“Leave somebody covering if you go out. If anybody picks up any leads on what happened to Camilla, I want to know about it as soon as the cops do, and if possible sooner.”
“Mike, if you think you’re going to accomplish anything, you’re out of your goddamn mind. This is what we know as a manhunt. Show your nose anywhere in Dade County and you’ll get it shot off. For God’s sake, give up and stay alive!”
“Save it, buddy. I’ll say it once and I hope it sinks in. You remember what happened to Lee Harvey Oswald. I don’t want the same thing to happen to Camilla, because then we’ll never find out who switched the bullets in her gun. Somebody did. Crowther was pulling the strings up to nine o’clock last night. After that somebody else took over. That’s absolutely the only explanation that fits the facts. Whatever Berger thinks, I know I didn’t put any bullet holes in the wall. I know I didn’t pay six-fifty to listen to Crowther sound off. Crowther bought that ticket himself, to pay me back for my part in the Steele case.”
“I admit that’s a possibility—”
“It’s the only way it could have happened, Tim. Then after the shooting, people would figure just the way you did—that I’d helped her, thinking she was just going to yell something. It’d make me look stupid, if nothing worse. Here’s the problem. Switching bullets is one thing that can’t be done on the phone. She saw whoever did it, and he’s going to be gunning for her. I want to get there first.”
“Let the cops do it, Mike. One of the cameras got a very good look at her. How far can she get?”
“She killed an important man. If she’s arrested she won’t be arrested gently. They’ll grab her and drag her in with maximum publicity. She’s in a shaky mental condition, and the kind of treatment she’s sure to get from the cops and you people can easily knock her all the way back into psychosis, and she’ll never be able to answer any questions. If she goes permanently nuts, I’m permanently out of the private detective business. From what you tell me, I may also be in jail.”
“Well, OK, but it’s risky. What do you want me to do?”
“Get her doctor, Irving Miller, and a guy named Paul London. Have them stand by. Get a list of everything that’s missing from the airport warehouses. I don’t mean a complete inventory, just the principal items. Call me as soon as you have it.”
CHAPTER 14
He hung up. Keeping her fingers in his palm, Adele twisted out from under the steering wheel, and kissed him.
“What was that for?” Shayne said.
“I don’t know. But we seem to be in the same kind of trouble, don’t we? I want to think for a minute.”
“No time for that, Adele.”
“I know where we can get a power boat—”
“Forget it. You’ll do better by yourself. I’m the one they’re looking for now, not you. How much money do you have?”
“Fifty dollars or so.”
“I’ll give you another thousand, contingent on getting some information. If you can’t help me, I’ll tie you to one of those headstones and tell the cops where to find you.”
“Would you really do that?”
“I really would, and not just to be mean. It would show them I’m trying to be helpful.”
“Damn, damn. I guess I do need some money, but I’ve got to bargain. Tell me what you think I’d better do, so I can see if it sounds possible.”
“We can assume you were seen getting into my car. But until everybody starts comparing stories, the theory’s going to be that yo
u got off in the plane with the rest of them. You’ve got a couple of hours. Catch the first bus out of town, it doesn’t matter where. Buy some different clothes and a suitcase in the first big town you come to. Keep traveling by bus, and keep reading the papers. You’ll be in Mexico in a few days, and then you can decide where to go next. There are revolutions all over the world. Take your pick.”
“You aren’t coming with me?”
“Baby, I’m on the side of law and order.”
“I know that, damn it! All right, Mexico. I don’t know about afterward. Life isn’t as simple as it was a few hours ago. How I hate to be lied to! I thought Gil was—beautiful, Mike. Honest and brave and tough. But now—”
“Now,” Shayne prompted.
“He did have something to do with that assassination. Which may be all right. Crowther was an evil man, a terrible man. But I wish he hadn’t used a sick woman who had nothing to do with the Movement—”
“So do I. You realize I need facts.”
“You said somebody switched bullets. Last night he had a bullet he was trying to match.”
“What time?”
“After midnight. We were at a place in Coral Gables, five of us. I couldn’t sleep. Gil was playing a six-string guitar, very softly. The phone rang downstairs. He went to answer it, and after that I think he went outside.”
“For how long?”
“Ten or fifteen minutes. He brought back a bullet. I think it was a blank, it looked sort of flat at one end. We all compared ours with it. There was a lot of rummaging around. By that time we had quite a collection of various ammunition, and when he found the right size he went out again and everything settled down. Then he came back and started playing the guitar. I never did get to sleep.”
“Except for that one period, he was in the house the whole time?”
“Yes. Everything was all worked out, and all we had to do was sit around and try not to get too nervous.”
“Did anybody else leave during the night?”
“No.”
“All right, that fills in a few gaps. The woman who shot Crowther is two or three inches shorter than you are. Ten years older, and those have been long, hard years. Not as much bosom, skinnier in the can. Her hair would be any color, any length. When I saw it today it was hacked off short, a streaky light brown or chestnut. But she has a variety of wigs at home. She was very red in the face this morning, but that’s not how she usually looks. Does any of this mean anything to you?”
She shook her head, and Shayne continued, “She was at the airport at nine. She knew her apartment building was being watched, so she wouldn’t go back there. We checked every hotel and motel and rooming house, and most of her friends. We didn’t find her. She spent the night someplace. One of the few things I know about her is that she isn’t up to making any elaborate arrangements herself. If Ruiz gave her some bullets, maybe he also gave her a key. There weren’t any keys in his pockets. How long’s he been in town?”
“A week. Less than that, five days.”
“And he’s been very hot. Somebody probably rented him an apartment under a fake name. On a side street, with its own entrance, probably on the edge of the Spanish district.”
“I wonder,” she said doubtfully. “Can I use your phone?”
He had drawn in the antenna. He extended it again and brought in the operator.
“Mr. Painter called again,” she said, and laughed. “We had a terrible connection and I couldn’t hear him very well. But he sounded excited.”
“Keep lying to him,” Shayne told her.
He passed on a number Adele gave him, and handed her the phone. In a moment she began talking rapidly in Spanish. She broke the connection and gave the operator another number.
This time she was met with a barrage of questions, and it was a moment before she could break in. After another moment she asked Shayne, “Does the woman you’re trying to find speak Spanish?”
“Probably not.”
“Then perhaps—” She returned to the phone. After another breakneck exchange she hung up and told Shayne excitedly, “She’s there now!”
“Let’s go.”
“In this car?”
“Yeah. Fast.”
The motor caught with a roar. He telescoped the antenna and stowed the phone unit under the front seat. “What part of town?”
“Fourth Avenue, near Riverside Park.”
He swung over into the back seat and was out of sight on the floor by the time she passed through the gates and turned onto 8th Street.
“Slow down now,” he said. “You’re going to have to leave me the car. You can pick up a cab on Flagler. Who were you talking to? Don’t turn your head. Talk to the steering wheel.”
“She lives across the street. She was supposed to watch the house while Gil was there, to make sure everything was all right. I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
“I’ll get her a citation. What was all that chatter, Adele? Put it in English.”
She slowed for a turn. “God, the cops are thick around here. Keep down, Mike.”
“I’m down.”
“Last night she went to bed early. She knew Gil was going to be somewhere else. This morning there was a car in the driveway with Alabama plates. She’s been worrying about it, because she didn’t think anybody was supposed to be using the house. Then a woman came out and drove off. If the time’s important, it was between ten and eleven. Crowther’s plane got in when? About eleven fifteen? She came back about an hour later, turned too soon and hit the hedge. She managed the second time, but she did everything very slowly. Then she just sat there. Finally my friend went over and asked if she needed help. The woman couldn’t understand Spanish. Her face was very red, and she looked sick. She said she was fine and went in the house. The car’s still there.”
“OK. You’ve earned the thousand bucks.”
“Mike,” she said after a moment, “will you tell my uncle I’m—”
When she didn’t go on, Shayne said dryly, “I’ll give him the message.”
“What a lot has happened,” she said, still addressing the steering wheel. “I met you. We made love. I took part in my first battle. I don’t know, maybe my last. All of a sudden I feel much, much older. But all I can think about is how sleepy I am.”
She made the final turn and Shayne gathered himself. “It’s on the second floor,” she said, braking. “There’s a car coming… all right, I think everything’s OK. Can I send you a postcard from Mexico?”
“Better not.”
He had the thousand dollars ready, the same thousand Dr. Galvez had given him when they had thought he would have to buy Lorenzo Vega. He passed it to her, jackknifed forward and opened the back door. The Alabama car, parked at a slant across the driveway, was a Pontiac convertible with a patched top. Shayne cut across a poorly maintained lawn to the house.
Adele, too, was out of the car. She walked away without looking back.
CHAPTER 15
Shayne made no attempt to be quiet. He opened a downstairs door and went up. The door at the top of the stairs was unlocked.
There was no furniture in the front room except a phone on the floor under the windows, nothing in the bedroom except a mattress and some scattered clothing. The kitchen had been used by someone who had been living on dry cereal, cold cuts and coffee. He found Camilla in the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat.
She was wearing a black shoulder-length wig, slightly askew, and nothing else except a torn half-slip. She looked blankly at him, without recognition.
“There you are,” he said. “What kind of medicine have you been taking?”
“Medicine.”
“Fine. We’re communicating.”
He went down on one knee, and caught her shoulders as she began to tilt. He shook her and made her look at him. Her pupils were huge. To the drugged brain beyond those eyes, he must have seemed dim and shifting. He dug his fingernails into her shoulders. Her breasts swayed.
&n
bsp; “Look at me. I’m Mike Shayne. We’re both in bad trouble, but if you can stay awake for a few minutes maybe we can do something about it.”
“I know,” she said wearily.
The words were distinct, but they came out heavily, as though she was using her last strength to move them past her lips. He held her erect, but her head rolled.
“What did you take? Barbiturates?”
“Adrenalin,” she said after a moment.
“Like hell you took Adrenalin. You mean you gave yourself a shot?”
Without letting her go he looked for the hypodermic. It had rolled behind the toilet. Supporting her body with one hand, Shayne retrieved it. There were a few drops of liquid left in the barrel. He sniffed the needle, then touched it to his tongue. It tasted faintly salty.
“’Drenalin,” she said again, not getting the whole word. “Need it to…”
“Maybe you thought it was Adrenalin,” he said roughly, “but somebody put something else in the needle. Did you hear me? This was a downer. If you fall asleep now, it’s for good.”
“Don’t care.”
“Well, I care, goddamn it.”
He pulled her to her feet. For the first moment he supported her full weight. He continued to hurt her with his fingernails until she took some of it herself.
“We’re going to walk,” Shayne said. “Nobody important knows we’re here, so we’ve got plenty of time “
With one arm around her, he walked her out to the bare living room.
“But you have to want to come out of it. Camilla, listen. Last night they changed the plan so you could get out of the hotel. Instead of looking for the burn in the carpet, you blocked an elevator door and used the table. You surprised everybody. They gave you a stolen car. You were supposed to come back here and change, and take a shot of something to keep you moving until you were out of town. But they conned you! It was a heavy sedative, strong enough to kill you. That’s murder, baby.”
She shook her head.
“Understand this one thing,” he said. “They tried to kill you. You did everything exactly right. You shot Crowther and they double-crossed you. The place has been rented for a month. By the time you were found you’d make a very smelly corpse.”
Six Seconds to Kill Page 14
