“I’m wondering if he did.”
“You got some reason for thinking different?”
“Somebody,” said Shayne, “telephoned Gerald last night to tell him Roche and Brand were meeting at Brand’s house.”
“Sure. Mrs. Roche phoned him. She got worried about Charles and couldn’t go to sleep…”
“She claims she wasn’t worried at all,” Shayne broke in, “because she knew they had already reached an agreement.”
“Then why’d she phone Seth at four o’clock?” he asked obtusely.
“She didn’t, according to her story. First thing she knew about anything was when Gerald came to the house and woke her up and asked her to say she’d phoned him if the question came up.”
“The hell you say. Why didn’t she tell me that?”
“I don’t say it,” Shayne reminded him patiently. “Mrs. Roche does. If you noticed that newspaper story about her this morning, she doesn’t say anything about it either way. She claims Gerald told her this afternoon it was some anonymous man who phoned him.”
“You think maybe Angus?”
Shayne shrugged and took a drink. “It must have been someone who saw Roche and Brand together. Or someone trying to stir up trouble.” He hesitated, frowning, then added, “Does Mrs. Cornell generally stay up all night playing her radio so loudly she can’t hear a shot in the same block?”
“Says she had a headache and couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, that’s Mrs. Roche’s story… just the way I got it tonight. I thought Gerald had probably told you all about it.”
“Seth wouldn’t tell me anything that might help clear Brand. Right now he’s ridin’ pretty. Keeps control of the mines and the strike is busted with Brand in jail.”
“I wondered about the Roche Mines. Who inherits Charles’ share?”
“Way it was set up by old John Roche,” said Elwood, “fifty-one per cent went to Charles and forty-nine to Jimmy… to be held in trust for both of ’em with Seth stayin’ on as manager until Charles was thirty years old. He was to get his share then, but Jimmy was to keep on gettin’ the income till he was thirty.
“But if Charles died before that, old John fixed it so that only forty-nine per cent was to go to Charles’ heirs, with the rest held in trust for Jimmy till he was thirty. Then Jimmy takes over.”
“And Gerald will continue in complete charge for several more years,” Shayne mused, “instead of losing his job immediately.”
“That’s right,” said Chief Elwood. “Look at it any way you want, Charles’ death was a mighty lucky thing for Seth.”
“And for AMOK,” Shayne reminded him. “Particularly if Mrs. Roche’s story about the strike settlement is true.”
“I reckon all the mine owners in Kentucky’ll feel easier with this strike over. Folks in this state don’t much take to the idea of miners tellin’ ’em how to run their business.”
“Do you think Roche would have compromised with Brand if he had lived?”
“Just between you and me,” said Elwood, “I reckon it’s most likely he would’ve. Charles was pretty close-mouthed, but he brought back some mighty fancy ideas from the war. Yes sir, way I look at it, Brand come mighty close to winnin’. Mighty damn close.”
“According to all this,” said Shayne angrily, “Brand looks like the one man in Centerville who had every reason not to murder Charles Roche.”
“Well sir,” said Elwood comfortably, “it might look that way if he could prove Charles had made a settlement with him. Lackin’ that, all the evidence is against him. It’ll go mighty bad for Brand when it comes out in court he bribed those men to make out an alibi for him beforehand. That’ll look mighty like premeditation to a jury. Then there was his gun, too. Lyin’ right by the body. Looks to me like your fee is already earned.”
“Aren’t you forgetting Mrs. Roche’s testimony?” asked Shayne sharply.
“Who’ll believe her?” Elwood waved a big hand negligently. “Prosecution’ll have a dozen witnesses to swear she was sweet on Brand.”
“Just between the two of us,” said Shayne, “if I’d been in Gerald’s shoes last night and discovered that Roche and Brand had reached an understanding, I’d have done exactly what he did.”
Elwood’s fat, lashless lids rolled up. He stared at Shayne for an instant, then said, “You reckon Seth gunned him to make it look like Brand did it?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’d keep it plumb to m’self if I did. Way things’ve been run here in Centerville for twenty years suits me right down to the ground. That bein’ the case, there’s one piece of evidence you’d better turn over to me right here and now.”
“What’s that? I’ve only been in town a few hours and I’ve told you everything I’ve picked up.”
“That letter Charles wrote you to Miami.”
“I haven’t got it with me.”
“Where is it?”
“In a safe place.”
“You can see how it is,” Chief Elwood said mildly. “Could be there’s something in it wouldn’t look good at Brand’s trial.”
“Could be,” Shayne agreed.
“Could be it’s just what we could use to clinch the case against him. If, f’rinstance, he happened to say in the letter he was afraid Brand or some of the other strikers might kill him on account of he’d decided not to deal with them. Or, if it was proof he knew Brand was chasin’ around after his wife. You can see how important that’d be as evidence.”
“That would be extremely important,” Shayne agreed.
“So you better turn it over to me,” Chief Elwood said in his rumbling monotone. “Just to make certain it don’t get into the wrong hands.”
Shayne shook his red head. “I always play a lone hand.”
Elwood emptied his glass and set it down on the floor beside the whiskey bottle. He placed a palm on each knee and considered Shayne with a level, protuberant gaze. He said, “You can figure what happened to Gantry.”
“I figured you staged that for my special benefit.” Shayne emptied his glass and added curtly, “I’m a lot tougher than Gantry.”
“No man is tougher than a lead slug,” Elwood said slowly.
“But you’ve got better sense than to use one on me.” He stood up suddenly. “That letter is in a safe place… as long as I stay alive. You hope you know what’s in it, but you’re not sure. Killing me might wreck your case against Brand.”
“What do you want, Shayne? You’ve been offered five grand if Brand is convicted.”
“Maybe,” said Shayne lightly, “I’ve got an idea it would be fun to be chief of police in Centerville.”
“Now, by God!” The chief moved swiftly for so big a man. He was beside the desk and had the. 38 revolver in his hand while his angry exclamation still vibrated in the room.
Shayne didn’t move. He watched him with a twisted smile on his angular face. “I’m not a punk like Gantry. You can’t dispose of my body by dumping it outside the city limits. That fuse never was as short as it is right now, Elwood.”
The chief’s thick body trembled violently. He breathed hard through set teeth and the mound of flesh on his chin wiggled. He forced his muscles to level the barrel of the gun on Shayne’s mid-section twice, and relaxed his grip both times. “Seth musta been right,” he grated. “He figured your signing up with AMOK was just a dodge.”
“It was Persona’s idea,” Shayne told him.
“Damn Persona. We don’t need his deputies messin’ into things here. Always got along okay in Centerville without outside help.”
“Until George Brand showed up,” Shayne suggested. “When you failed to handle him, Seth Gerald must have felt you were slipping.”
“That’s a lie. It was Seth’s idea from the first. Thought he could handle him and he wanted a strike back at the time it started. I’d of taken care of Brand right away if I’d had my way.” He looked down at the gun in his hand as though surprised and faintly embarrassed to see it there.
“That,” said Shayne, “doesn’t make sense. Why would any mine owner want a strike?”
“Prices were down and there was too much production. All the other mines were shutting down and the men grumbling, and Seth got the bright idea a strike would fix things up. Just a short one. That’d go bust when the men got hungry enough. Be a sort of lesson to all the other miners.” The chief seemed to have forgotten the lethal impulse that had moved him to pick up the gun. He turned it over and over in his hands, sighed, and sat down, resting the weapon on his lap.