“My company doesn’t promote people with police records. Say hello to the chicks for me. And now there’s the problem of getting a taxi.”
He started for the public entrance; and by the time he reached it, he was running.
Inside, Shayne made his way through the party without being ambushed again and entered the inner rooms, locking doors behind him as he went. He passed one of the girls, who let him get by before calling, “If you’re looking for Oscar…”
Shayne stopped. “What’s your name?”
“Sandra,” she said with a smile. “If you’ll tell me what you want, I’ll do my best to try and help you.”
“Mandy Pitt’s been murdered. We can’t wait till tomorrow to tell Oscar.”
She took the news calmly. “When he really falls asleep, you couldn’t wake him up with dynamite.
“Let’s try.”
She came with him. “Don’t walk so fast. Weren’t you here to see him before?”
“Yeah. Michael Shayne.”
“I thought you looked familiar. What did you say happened to Mandy?”
“She was murdered.”
She shook her lovely head. “It’s getting so it isn’t safe to go out on the streets any more.”
They met another uniformed guard at the turn of the corridor. He, too, had been told about Shayne; and his mouth opened. Shayne pulled his pistol in a quick motion and jammed it into the guard’s stomach.
“I don’t want to shoot him, Sandra.”
“No, don’t. He’s sort of a boyfriend of mine. Let’s see; where can we put him?”
She found a bedroom with a key, moved the key to the outside of the lock; and they put the guard inside.
“I would have said Mandy was the last person. She always gave us the feeling that she knew what she was doing. Did you know she had two years of college?”
They continued to Oscar’s bedroom. When Sandra touched a switch, all the dramatic spotlights came on at once. Oscar, in pajama bottoms, lay spread-eagle across the huge bed, as though he had been dropped from a height.
“I think it’s too late,” the girl said.
“He uses some kind of inhaler. See if you can find it.”
Shayne gripped the rough thatch of graying hair on Oscar’s chest and pulled him erect by it. His head flopped like a doll’s. Shayne shook him a few times and let him fall back.
He took a wastebasket to the bathroom and filled it with cold water which he emptied over Oscar’s head. Oscar slept through it all.
Sandra returned with the inhaler and the hood. Shayne worked the hood over the sleeping man’s head and filled it with vapor. Oscar looked obscurely troubled and began waving one hand, as though conducting an orchestra which only he could hear.
“Sometimes if you hurt him,” Sandra said.
Shayne went on working the inhaler. She slid her hand inside the front of Oscar’s pajamas and dug in with her sharpened fingernails.
Oscar said clearly, “Keko, I told you not to.”
“Waking you up, sweetheart,” Sandra said. “There’s a man here.”
Shayne touched her wrist. “Hold it. Oscar, wake up. Keko’s dead. Hurry.”
Oscar came out all at once, in one bound. He went backward so fast, banging his head against the padded headboard, that the girl’s hand was caught in his pajamas. She extricated it.
“Playing with you a little, honey, okay?” she said.
He looked up at the figures above him. “Shayne? How did you get in?”
“I used a gun. Mandy’s dead.”
“Is she really dead?” Sandra said. “I can’t take it in. I saw her only a half hour ago.”
“Bring me a bottle of cognac and a glass, baby,” Shayne told her. “This is thirsty work.”
“Certainly. Do you want anything, Oscar? Coffee?”
“No.”
When she reached the door, he called, “Yes, coffee.” He swung his legs out of bed. “Twice. I was fairly nice about it the first time. But twice in one night…”
Shayne grasped the mat of chest hair again and stood the shorter man on his feet.
“I’m doing you a hell of a favor. She didn’t die a natural death. She was beaten up in a drive-in theatre. Think back. She was called out to take a phone call. A couple of minutes later, she went off in one of your Cadillacs in too much of a rush to worry about being followed. She was followed by three guys in an MG. I know one of them. His name is Turkey Gallagher, and he stands out in a crowd; he’ll be easy to find. The Cadillac has the Pussycat trademark on it. That means the cops will be showing up shortly.”
He released Olson with a push that sent him sprawling. “Are you listening to me?”
Oscar sucked air and came up on his elbows. “Not willingly.”
“When I tried to go after her, you made a big thing about getting in my way. Didn’t you even try to hit me with something? You don’t usually do anything that stupid. You knew she was selling you out. She was supposed to be meeting somebody, but the picture was almost over, and your guys were too nervous to wait. It was quick and efficient and over before I could do anything about it. But Gallagher was a bad choice for this job. He was wearing a set of knuckles, and he doesn’t have that little cut-off switch in the brain that tells people when it’s time to stop.”
“You actually think these men were working for me?”
“I actually do.”
Oscar wagged his head helplessly. “I went through a series of moves to slow down for the night. Now I have to claw my way back; and believe me, it’s inch by inch. What’s your theory? What do you think happened?”
“Mandy Pitt,” Shayne said patiently. “Her nose was smashed, and there’s a gross fracture of the frontal bone over one eye. There are bone fragments showing. The eye is gone. She was brutally beaten and killed. Is any of this getting through?”
“I hear the words.”
Sandra came in with a bottle of cognac tucked under one elbow and other things on a tray.
“It’s instant, Oscar; do you mind?”
“Leave it; leave it!”
She put down the tray. “Cream. Sugar. Spoon. I don’t think I forgot anything. Oscar, you may not want to think about this now, but about Mandy’s job? I mean, I’d like to be the first to put in for it.” The look on her employer’s face told her that this wasn’t the time. “But if you’ll bear it in mind? I used to be pretty good at typing — seventy words a minute.”
Oscar forced himself to take a mouthful of coffee. Shayne could see some of his daytime shrewdness and toughness beginning to come back.
“Are you sure about the brass knuckles?”
“Gallagher’s in his late forties. He’s out of shape. And it’s hard to do much damage in the front seat of a car. With knuckles, a tap is enough. He put a little too much on it. That’s happened before with this guy, and I’m wondering if you knew it would happen this time.”
“Too subtle, man… All right, we’ll talk. A good place to talk would be the pool. I want to be sure you aren’t carrying a transmitter. I’ll be sure when I see you naked.”
He juggled the empty mug for a moment, then threw it across the room. He looked sick, and he almost lost his balance as he came off the bed, but he controlled it and walked out of the room. Shayne picked up the cognac bottle and followed.
Chapter 10
Seeing the bandage on Shayne’s shoulder after he undressed, Oscar said, “What’s that?”
“Gunshot wound. The mark on my face is where Gallagher hit me. That’s how I know he was wearing knuckles.”
Oscar examined the bandage. “Not that I’m calling you a liar, but I’ve seen transmitters no bigger than the tip of your little finger…”