Sam’s fingernails had whitened. He said quietly, “I never threatened Judge Kendrick or anybody else.”
“I know that, Sam. It wasn’t Kendrick’s idea. I suggested it, to stir things up. You should have explained last night. I don’t want to be shot in the back while I walk away, so I’m going to gather up a few guns before I go.”
The man beside him twitched, and Shayne fired just wide of his ear. The bullet drilled a hole in the window.
“Don’t let that remark of Sam’s about masculinity bother you,” Shayne said. “You’re bringing Sam in, and that’s the main thing. You don’t have to tell Boots you’ve been gelded.”
He reached out, took the man’s wrist between a firm thumb and forefinger, and tugged it gently until it came out of his jacket. Then Shayne pulled the gun. He drew the other two in the same way. Starting the motor, he drove back to the motel.
The youth he had slugged was on his hands and knees between two parked cars. Shayne got out and heaved him into the back seat.
“He’s still a little groggy. Somebody else had better drive.”
After the men rearranged themselves inside the car and drove away, Shayne hunted up a trash container and dumped the four weapons. He was hot enough without them.
CHAPTER 13
The window of Sam Rapp’s room on the second floor of the motel was still lighted. Shayne went quietly up the stairs and along the gallery. After checking the lock he tapped on the door with the lockpick he carried on his key ring. He stepped into the light so he could be seen from the window. The blind was drawn aside. It fell back in place and Shayne began working on the lock.
Professional thieves seldom bother with motels, and motels seldom bother with locks that are difficult to open. Two twists, a slight reverse pressure and another twist, and Shayne opened the door.
Lib Patrick, at the phone, swung around. She was wearing a sketchy nightgown, stopping above her knees. Her hair was in rollers for the night.
She touched the rollers self-consciously. She started as the switchboard acknowledged her signal.
“Oh. Well, so sorry to bother you. Could you tell me the time?”
She looked at her watch after hanging up. “One minute fast. Mike Shayne, damn you, why do you have to be like this?”
Shayne closed the door. “What do you have to drink?”
“Just whiskey, but you don’t want any. I’ll be glad to tell you the time. It’s damn late.”
Both twin beds had been used. She said defensively, “If you want Sam, he’ll be back in a minute, which is why I don’t want to settle down with a drink. He just-”
“He just stepped out to be kidnapped,” Shayne said. “I was here when it happened. That wasn’t much of a slap he gave you. I can’t see the marks.”
He opened the closet door, picked a dress off a hanger and tossed it to her. “Put this on, Lib. We’re not staying.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Baby, if you think you’re going to kidnap me-”
He snapped his fingers. “Things are about to blow. I’m in a position to make some real trouble for everybody, so if you want to live to enjoy the money, you’ll have to be nice to me. I want to know what happened to Maslow. The rest of it is none of my business.”
She was hesitating. “If I made so much noise that somebody called the cops-”
“I’d have to tell them Sam had been kidnapped, after slapping your face and calling you a bitch. You’ve done a great job, but it won’t stand up under a grand jury investigation, where everybody has to tell the truth or go to jail for perjury. You’ve got to win me over. It’s your only play.”
“Is it?” she said, confused. “I’m not so sure. Why can’t you relax, like other people? Don’t you ever need any sleep? Everything was going so well before you showed up.”
“You knew it was a gamble. But don’t fold up yet. Get dressed. I’m expecting the highway cops, and that would be bad for both of us.”
She gave him a direct look. “I think you’re bluffing, but do I want to take the chance?”
Picking up the dress, she started toward the bathroom.
“Out here where I can see you, Lib.”
“O.k., o.k. I might jump out the window or take sleeping pills. I’ll try not to blush. I don’t suppose you’d like to turn off the light?”
“No.”
She pulled off her nightgown. After wriggling into the dress she stepped into high-heeled shoes, picked up her bag and a half-empty bottle of bourbon, and was ready.
“Bring your car keys,” he told her.
Outside, she continued to work on her rollers. Shayne moved carefully until he was sure there were no more cars than there had been when he arrived. She showed him a sleek Italian convertible.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far.”
He headed toward town, feeling conspicuous in the showy car, with the elegant girl. She finished with the rollers and began combing her white hair.
After half a mile Shayne pulled into a gas station and body shop, closed for the night, and parked between a wrecker and a battered French sedan, a casualty of the battle of the highways.
Lib offered him the bourbon. Shayne drank and handed it back.
“I haven’t been kidnapped for years,” she said. “I haven’t drunk out of a bottle since I’ve been with Sam. Mike, I know you’re about to ask me some questions I don’t want to answer. I’ve got to convince myself I’m doing the right thing. Tell me in so many words what you’ll do if I stand on my rights.”
“I still have to talk to Tim Rourke, and then we’ll set up a surrender scene, which ought to get good TV coverage. I’d better surrender to the state attorney, it might be safer. He’ll want to know if I have any theories about what’s been happening. Why have you and Sam been acting like characters in a bad 1935 gangster movie? My new theory on that is that you’d be surprised and annoyed if the bill actually goes through.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Mike Shayne, you’re a sweet, virile man, and smarter than you look. And I do know I can’t stop you with compliments. First question.”
“This is a multiple choice. The late Senator Sheldon Maslow was (a) a dedicated, fearless crusader against crime, or (b) an unprincipled spieler who knew he couldn’t get anywhere in politics without using blackmail and dirty karate.”
“B,” she said promptly.
“Can you support that?”
“Let’s see,” she said slowly. “Sooner or later I hear most of the talk, and naturally Sam and his friends have been talking about Maslow’s anti-crime committee. Could he be reached? And they felt he could. I don’t mean they could walk in with a bundle and get him to cancel a subpoena. But he’s been trying to build a statewide organization, and there were hundreds of indirect ways. You ought to be talking to Sam, not me.”
“Sam’s been kidnapped.”
“I forgot. Mike-I mean I just overheard little bits now and then. It’s a man’s world, and the women are meant to stay out on the rim and look charming. I had one contact with Maslow myself. When was it? The night before last.”
“You told Grover about that, the look Maslow gave you in a restaurant.”
“There was more to it. He called up and said he wanted to see me. We met at a drive-in movie. He got in my car in the middle of the second feature, and it was a picture I wanted to see, too. He had a box of popcorn for camouflage, and he kept munching away. He wanted my advice about Grover. That’s what he said he wanted. His idea was that Grover and I had been-that we were-well, sleeping together. Not true, incidentally, and stop looking so skeptical.”