“From the police?” Her thin lips tightened. “I’m sure I don’t know how I can help you.”
“It’s about one of Mr. Boyd’s clients who was murdered last night. Mr. Boyd told us something about him last night, but there are a few details we need to have filled in.”
“You mean poor Captain Ruffer. Such a terrible way to die. He was such a nice man. So alone and… helpless.”
“Did you know him?”
“Only through seeing him here at the office occasionally. Is it true that he was actually tortured to death last night? Why would anyone do such a thing? Of course, I guess he had come into some money finally because I know he called Mr. Boyd yesterday and said he was going to be able to do something about the mortgage on his little house which was about to be foreclosed.”
“In what capacity did Boyd act for him as an attorney?”
“There wasn’t much… really,” she said vaguely. “He first came to us five or six years ago for help in collecting insurance on his boat that had been lost at sea. He put all of that, I believe, in his little house, and I actually believe he’s been almost destitute this last year or so. Behind on his mortgage payments and like that. I know Mr. Boyd worried about him, and I think he actually gave him small sums of money sometimes, just so the old captain wouldn’t go hungry. But he was independent… you know how stubborn old people get? What was it you wanted to ask me about him?”
Shayne said, “Just what you’ve told me. Thanks,” and lifted his hat to her and went out.
Downstairs there was a telephone booth in the lobby, and he dialled Timothy Rourke’s home number.
After the fifth ring, the reporter’s sleepy voice came over the wire and Shayne told him briskly, “Things are getting ready to pop, Tim. If you want one hell of a story, get on Will Gentry’s tail and don’t get off it.”
“What’s that? Mike? What the hell time of night is it?”
“Time you were on your horse and riding. Get down to Will Gentry’s office, Tim, and stick to him like a leech. Don’t ask him any questions and don’t, for God’s sake, let him know that I tipped you off. Just stay close to him this morning, and I promise you fireworks.”
Shayne hung up and went out onto the sidewalk. It lacked eighteen minutes of ten o’clock. Just time enough for a leisurely drive out to the Little Revue and a confrontation with the two hoods who had treated him so cavalierly the night before.
15
There were no cars in the public parking lot at the night club when Michael Shayne got there. He pulled up directly in front of the entrance and got out. The doors stood wide open, and inside an old man was industriously mopping the floor of the lounge.
He didn’t even look up from his task as the detective crossed the damp floor and went down the corridor to the stairway at the rear.
It was very still inside the building and he encountered no one else as he climbed the stairs and went toward Lasher’s office.
The outer door into the reception room stood open and it was empty this morning, with the ceiling light on.
The door to the inner office was closed. Shayne strode across to it and knocked lightly and then turned the knob. He had timed his arrival carefully so it was exactly ten o’clock, and as he pushed the door open Armin Lasher called out from inside, “That you, Shayne?”
He said, “Yes,” and stepped inside, confronting the gangster seated behind the big bare desk as he had been the night before, with Dixie and Bull standing stiffly behind his chair.
Lasher’s black eyes narrowed for a moment as he took in Shayne’s appearance, and then a faint smile flickered over his mobile face. “You’re not near as pretty as you were last night,” he observed sardonically. “Like I told you then, you don’t know when to keep your big mouth shut I guess.”
Shayne said evenly, “I guess not.” He glanced from the seated gangster up into the faces of Dixie and Bull, and he sensed real fear in their furtive expressions. He knew, then, that Lasher was not aware they had disobeyed him last night, and that he would have them on his side if he played it right. He touched the strips of adhesive on his cheek and said lightly, “One of the hazards of my job. Sometimes I run up against a guy tougher than I am, and I don’t hold a grudge if I get marked up a little.”
Lasher merely grunted, then he demanded, “What are we here for, Shamus? You got something to say… say it.”
“We were talking about Russian pistols last night,” Shayne reminded him. “The whole thing’s a hell of a lot bigger than I realized, and I need somebody with your connections to swing the deal. I know there are about a dozen well-heeled Cuban refugee groups in town who would be eager cash customers for the kind of goods I can deliver. In my position, I can’t contact them. You can. I know where the stuff is. You handle the selling end and we split fifty-fifty.”
“What is the ‘stuff’?” asked Lasher.
“An assorted shipment of Russian small arms. The Lenski pistols are a sample. There are six gross of them. At a hundred bucks each…” He shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Automatic rifles… machine guns… with ammunition to match. All new and the very latest design. Exactly what the hotheads need to foment half a dozen revolutions in Cuba and the rest of Latin America.”
“Where is it?” demanded Lasher.
“That’s my secret,” Shayne told him evenly. “Are you interested?”
“Why not? Show me the stuff and we’ll deal.”
“There’s one hitch. There’s a mug standing between me and the shipment, and he’s got a couple of torpedoes gunning for me right now. I’ve got to stay alive to make delivery to you. That’s where your two boys come in. I need a couple of real pros like Bull and Dixie to handle that angle.” He raised his gaze and looked from one to the other with cold eyes. “From what I’ve seen of them, I figure they’re just the pair for the job. Give them to me for a couple of hours and we’ll be in.”
Neither of them said anything or moved. They looked back at him dispassionately and he had no idea what they were thinking.
“Right now?” asked Lasher.
“It’s got to be right now. I’m the only one standing in this other guy’s way and he’s putting me on the spot. I’ve got a date to meet him out in the country in about an hour, and I’ve got word he’ll have a couple of quick-trigger boys on hand to blast me out of the picture.
“I’m not handing you anything on a platter,” he went on harshly to Lasher. “It’s my hide I’m worried about. If Bull and Dixie can handle the job, I’ll owe you half the take. But there’s sure as hell going to be shooting, and you boys better shoot first,” he ended raising his eyes to them again. “Don’t throw in with me unless you’re as good as I think you are.”
“They’re good all right,” Lasher assured him. “Two of the best.” He leaned back in his chair with narrowed eyes and considered the proposal. “I don’t see why not. If it’s as big as you say, Shayne.”
“It’s that big. You boys all ironed and ready?” Shayne asked them. “My car’s in front and we’re due south of Homestead for the showdown in less than an hour.”
Dixie said in a tight voice, “We’re ready if you are.”
“Sure,” said Bull with a swagger. “You show us who you want gunned… tha’s all.”
Shayne said, “Let’s go then,” and turned on his heel and walked out.
They followed close behind, and Bull caught up with him at the head of the stairs and said earnestly, “Jeez! It’s real swell you ain’t got no hard feelin’s for last night. Dixie an’ me, we just sorta got carried away.”
Shayne said lightly, “Why should there be any hard feelings? I guess I asked for it when I pushed you in front of Lasher. Important thing is, I knew where to come when I needed a couple of real tough lads. Anybody that can rough me up and get away with it… know what I mean?”