Shayne took Bates’s. 45 out of his pocket and rested the muzzle on the edge of the desk. His eyes were bleak and his voice harsh.
“I know all about the racket and the queer stuff. How the mob has played it smart for a couple of years by planting wads of it in dumps like this where it can be shoved in a hurry onto a sporting crowd. I know they’re about ready to start an operation in Miami and that you’re one of the shovers. Was the stuff being rockered in that Thirty-eighth Street house?”
Bates looked blank. “I don’t know anything about that. I only know-”
“That you’ll get a hole the size of my fist blasted in your belly if you don’t talk,” Shayne interrupted savagely. “Never mind that last question. I’m pretty sure it was being worked at Irvin’s place, because that would account for the repair shop in the basement without any repair equipment-a cover-up for running a rocker. That doesn’t matter. You spoke to Irvin about the fifty grand he was looking for.”
“That’s it,” said Bates desperately. “That’s what I’m telling you. About a month ago it was, Perry dropped in and says there’s fifty grand in C-notes that may be dumped any time. Consecutive serial numbers, and he gave me the numbers so I’d know the stuff right away. For my own protection so I wouldn’t get stuck with any of it.”
“Nuts,” said Shayne. “The truth of it is the mob was worried sick for fear it would begin turning up here in Miami before the date set for the heavy shoving to start. That would have warned the Feds to be on the lookout. That’s why Irvin was so damned anxious to get hold of any of it that showed up. That’s why you had orders to use a gun, if necessary, to hang onto the guy passing the phony bills.”
“Might’ve been that way,” said Bates hurriedly. “I didn’t ask too many questions. But from something Perry said, I figured it’d be one of the gang passing it, and that’s why I was rough with you last night. Honest to God I didn’t know you were the law.”
Shayne grunted sourly and returned the. 45 to his pocket. He drank the rest of his cognac and pulled on his ear lobe for a moment. He asked suddenly, “How much of the stuff were you going to take when the time came?”
“I swear I wasn’t taking any. I don’t mix in anything like that. You can’t prove anything like that on me.”
“Probably not,” Shayne agreed. He turned to look at Rourke’s glass. “Want another shot, Tim?”
“Sure. Why not? It’s free, isn’t it?” He extended his empty glass.
“It’s free,” Shayne told him, filling the glass, and repeating the process with his own. “Bates is happy to see us enjoying ourselves.”
“Go right ahead,” Bates said uneasily. “I didn’t mean to get mixed up in any trouble. A man’s got a right to kick about having bad money passed on him,” he added righteously.
“That’s right. And I bet you’ve got a permit to carry this gun.” Shayne emptied his glass and stood up. He took the. 45 from his pocket, broke it and pushed the plunger and extracted six cartridges which he dropped into his pocket. He laid the empty gun on the desk and turned to Rourke. “Let’s get going.”
When they reached the car and got in, Rourke stretched out his thin legs and, after a moment’s silence, asked Shayne doubtfully, “Do you think he was telling the truth?”
“To a certain extent.” Shayne put the car in gear and wheeled it out of the driveway. “I think he’s in with the counterfeit gang and was slated to shove a bunch of the stuff when the right time came. The way it adds up,” he went on meditatively, “is that somewhere along the line those five hundred consecutive bills turned up missing. Maybe the big boys didn’t know whose fingers were sticky; and maybe they guessed. Anyhow, they didn’t want the stuff to show up here in Miami before they started their own cleanup. So word was passed around to everyone who could be trusted, and I picked the wrong place to break one last night.”
“Could Hale have got hold of the counterfeit somehow in New York?” asked Rourke. “Without even knowing it was queer, maybe?”
“Not from any bank,” Shayne assured him grimly. “As for his not knowing it, don’t forget the list of serial numbers he handed over to Painter.”
“Maybe he switched the money after he got it from the bank,” suggested Rourke.
“Maybe. I’m hoping Gentry will have an answer for that by the time we get there.”
He drove east to Miami Avenue, turned south to Fifth Street, and went west around the traffic circle that skirted the west side of the courthouse. Across Flagler, he parked opposite police headquarters and Rourke got out with him to go into Chief Gentry’s office.
Gentry looked up with a grimace when they entered his office together. He craned his head suspiciously, as though trying to see out in the corridor behind them, then grunted, “Well, where’s the corpse this time?”
Shayne said, “We checked it outside.” He walked on and eased one hip down on the chief’s desk. Rourke crossed the room and slumped into a chair.
“I called your apartment ten minutes ago,” Gentry said. “A couple of things have popped.”
Shayne tugged at his ear lobe and waited.
“They finally got Gerta Ross’s stomach pumped out. When she sobered up, she told a very interesting story, Mike. I haven’t given it to Painter yet.”
Shayne shrugged. “Thanks for that, Will. But it’s hardly necessary to keep anything under cover much longer.”
“No?” Gentry looked relieved. “She makes out a fairly good case for herself, and with Gurney dead, she’ll probably have a chance to make it stick. Claims she didn’t know Kathleen Deland was kidnaped at first and that Gurney brought her to the nursing home doped up. She says the girl was on the verge of hysterics and needed to stay doped up for a couple of days. Then yesterday afternoon Gurney told her the truth, pointed out that she was an accomplice, and offered her five grand to keep her mouth shut and help him collect the ransom.”
“How much?”
“That’s a funny thing,” said Gentry. “Seems Gurney told her he was collecting twenty grand instead of the fifty he had demanded from Deland.”
Shayne murmured, “Forty cents on the dollar.” Then he said to Gentry, “Go ahead.”
“You’d already told me most of the rest of it,” Gentry went on sourly, “except the part about Dawson. Ross claims she and Gurney were in her car with the girl in the trunk-drugged but with plenty of air to breathe-watching when Deland delivered the money to Dawson near the causeway. She says they followed Dawson across but that, instead of following instructions and driving slowly up the boulevard, he double-crossed them by going like a bat out of Bimini, cutting around corners-and they finally lost him heading toward the airport a little before twelve.
“They suspected he might be trying to jump town with the money and went to the airport to check on him, but found he hadn’t gotten out of town by air.”
Shayne said gravely, “We might as well straighten things out right now. Dawson did leave on the midnight plane, Will. I was there and helped him catch it.”
“The same plane you were on?”
“He used my ticket.”
Gentry drew in a long breath and studied Shayne with worried eyes. “You helped him jump town with the ransom money, Mike? Then you were the redheaded guy who bought Gerta Ross a drink at the Fun Club later and who was seen leaving the wrecked car. Chick Farrel’s identification was correct.”
Shayne nodded and said easily, “You see what a spot I’ve been in, Will. If I told Painter that Dawson was actually the guy he traced to Palm Beach with my ticket, he’d have known I was in the wreck and would have arrested me on sight.”
Gentry’s big florid face flushed dangerously red.
“Watch that apoplexy, Will,” Rourke said, with a chuckle.
“I’m watching it,” Gentry said angrily. “If I weren’t, I’d blow up like an atom bomb right now.”
“Go on with Gerta’s story,” Shayne urged him placidly.
“It’s about like you said. She had a call from Gurney after she got home telling her to meet him at the Tower Cottages for the pay-off. That was a little before two-thirty. She called a cab and cruised all over town looking for an all-night drugstore where she could pick up some laudanum to mix with a bottle of gin.