Eda Lou put in, “This is Mike Shayne. Don’t you read the papers? He wouldn’t help you across the street for less than twenty.”
Barbara gave her another hard look and she said meekly, “I thought you might not know.”
Barbara said through set lips, looking back at Shayne, “Fifteen, Mike?”
“Do you have fifteen?” Shayne asked.
The fear in Barbara’s eyes deepened to panic. “You won’t insist on being paid in advance, will you? Cash is the problem.”
“What happened to the option money from Florida-American? Did that pay for Shanahan’s judgeship?”
Eda Lou snickered. Barbara’s face was working.
“Don’t turn me down, Mike, please. What’ll I do? Brad’s insane! You don’t know what he’s like. He’s a killer.”
“Yeah, there’s that old killing in his record,” Shayne observed, “but I thought you said it wasn’t important?”
She swallowed, saying nothing.
Shayne went on, “And I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I can’t work for two people at the same time. That’s one of the rules. I already have a client.”
“Not any more. Can’t you-”
She stopped abruptly. She looked at the phone, then at the detective. The blood drained out of her face. Shayne grinned at her.
“You bastard,” she said faintly.
“That’s what people sometimes call me,” Shayne agreed.
“What’s going on around here?” Eda Lou demanded. “What’s all the back-and-forth?”
“Brad met with an accident,” Shayne said without looking away from Barbara. “A cop shot him. I’m glad to say that I helped.”
Barbara cut her eyes toward the neat little holes in the window.
“No, that isn’t Brad out there,” Shayne said. “So who is it? It can’t be Kitty, because I know where she is. That leaves Judge Shanahan. It hardly seems in character, but who else is left? People sometimes step out of character when they have a strong enough reason-if they don’t want to get married, for example.”
“You tricked me once,” Barbara said coldly. “Although what you imagine you’ve proved, merely because I assumed that phone call was about Kitty-”
“I’m not trying for courtroom evidence,” Shayne told her. “Just checking an idea. You work in a hospital, don’t you? What do you know about the properties of nitrous oxide?”
Barbara drew in her breath sharply and raised her head. The carbine cracked. This round gouged a splinter out of the window frame. Barbara banged her forehead against the floor.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said in a low voice.
“The hell you don’t,” Shayne said. “Do you know what the statutes say about conspiracy to commit murder? Look it up.” There was a harsh edge to his voice. “I’m going to chase that guy away in another minute. I’ve been faking a bit here. I can push the sofa in front of the glass doors and get past without being shot at. I didn’t bring a gun, but I doubt if he’ll stick around to find that out. I’ll see Kitty at breakfast and pass on your proposition. If she asks my advice, I’ll advise her to take it. By the time she gets a hundred-percent ownership, this buried-treasure story is going to sound pretty stale. But it’s up to her. If she says no, I want you to realize there isn’t a thing you can do about it. Not one thing. So relax and stop trying. If you decide to go on trying, you’d better kill me first. Is that clear?”
Eda Lou clapped ironically.
“I haven’t done anything,” Barbara said in a faint voice.
“That’s fine,” he said. “Go on doing nothing, and if you’re lucky you’ll stay out of the electric chair.”
She made a weak little sound.
“What she’s trying to tell you, Mike,” Eda Lou said, “is that she’s going to change her ways. And if you want a gun, there’s a. 25 in the drawer of that table.”
“A. 25,” Shayne said sarcastically. “You wouldn’t happen to have a slingshot to go with it? Never mind, it’ll save moving the furniture.”
He worked away from the wall and slowly reversed. He began to creep toward a heavily carved table, all the way across the room. Reaching it finally, he rolled over on his back.
Looking up from beneath, he saw a small drawer suspended from parallel guides. He began to slide it slowly out. It was while he was doing this that he noticed a small button microphone screwed to the inside of one of the massive carved legs.
chapter 11
When the drawer was almost out Shayne gave it a final flick and let it fall to the floor. He rolled over to wriggle into the open, and as he did so his trained eye followed the wire out of the little mike down the carved leg to a hole drilled in the baseboard.
“It better be there,” Eda Lou said, meaning the. 25. “I saw it a couple of weeks ago.”
The drawer had picked up the usual accumulation of household objects-a single glove, receipted bills, flashlight batteries, a package of Kleenex. Shayne took out the little automatic and released the clip. It was loaded.
Creeping along the wall, he twitched the plug of the big table lamp out of its socket. “Get the other lamps,” he told Eda Lou. “You were right in the first place-I’m getting the chandelier.”
The floor lamps blinked out one after another. Rolling over on one side, Shayne shot out one of the four overhead globes.
“Give the man a cigar,” Eda Lou said.
When Shayne shot out the second globe the man with the carbine fired twice, shooting at random.
“Mike,” Barbara said urgently, “listen, go down the hall and out through the kitchen. You’ll see the boathouse.”
Shayne fired again, leaving only one bulb alive. “I’m not chasing anybody. A. 25 is no good in a fire fight with a carbine.”
“I have a fast boat. Stay out of range. You can do it. We have to know who it is! If it’s really Frank-”
Shayne shot out the final light and rolled to his feet. A motor roared outside in the cove. He had mapped out a path between furniture and he moved fast in the sudden darkness. But Eda Lou hadn’t stayed in the same spot and they collided. Shayne got a mouthful of feathers. He sent her flying, and one of the heavy floor lamps went over.
He moved down the hall at a kind of half-run, the fresh stitches pulling at every step. He went through the brightly lighted kitchen and out the door toward the low boathouse. The door was half open. He felt inside for the light switch and found it on the second pass.
The boat was a 28-footer, a Hatteras cruiser. He swung over the rail, made his way to the short ladder to the pilot room and hitched himself up. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key. The powerful twin Chryslers took hold with a roar. As Shayne snapped on the running lights, the roar faltered and died.
After listening to the growl of the starter until it began to fade, he turned out the running lights, climbed down the ladder and limped back to the house. The sound of the other boat’s motor was already far away.
The two women met him on the terrace. “Here’s your. 25,” he said to the older woman.
“I was out this afternoon,” Barbara said. “Everything ran perfectly.”
“Somebody’s been tinkering with the fuel line in the meantime,” Shayne said. “Thanks for the drinks and the information.”
Barbara tried again, without being able to get much conviction into her voice. “Mike, I don’t know how much she’s paying you, but won’t you negotiate with me a little? I can give you a postdated check. I really have been helpful, haven’t I? Fifteen thousand for a few day’s work-I don’t care what anybody says, that’s good pay. Don’t just advise her to come in on the deal. Tell her. It’s the best thing for everybody, you said so yourself.”
Shayne lit a cigarette on the top step. “Remember what I told you,” he said in a grating voice. “Stop thinking up smart ways to murder people. This is the end of the line. When you see Frank, pass it on.”
Barbara stayed where she was but Eda Lou came down the steps to the Volkswagen.