“Nothing to work on. It’s open and shut. Your information is off for once. He was shot by a police officer. One of my best men, Hubie Elliot. I hope you’re not trying to pin anything on the department, Mike. Your batting average is pretty good, but this is one time you’re going to go down swinging.”
“I didn’t say Elliot murdered him. He was murdered by whoever put him on that street corner at that time of night with a knife in his hand. How did it happen your men were there waiting for him?”
Gentry said grudgingly, “We had an anonymous tip that a burglar was going to be working that block. O.K., Mike. Tell me more.”
“There’s an elimination contest going on. We started with five contestants, and we’re down to three. But what they don’t realize is that the game is fixed. It’s the big con, one of the best I’ve seen. I don’t expect you to follow this, Will. But unless we move fast we’ll have a couple more murders.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to round them up. The three principals plus an estranged husband. Number one-”
“Whoa! You know I can’t commit the department to that kind of operation with nothing to go on but a phone call. I also wouldn’t say you sounded exactly sober.”
“You’re within your rights, Will,” Shayne said carefully. “Even though one of the threatened persons is a Civil Court judge. This is a democracy. There’s no reason a judge should be given more protection than an ordinary citizen.”
“Damn it, Mike,” Gentry said after a moment. “Wait till I switch in the recorder. O.K., go ahead.”
“The touchy one is Frank Shanahan. You’d better collect everybody at his chambers. Hank Sims-late twenties, six one, about a hundred and ninety, full beard. He was driving a white Chevy convertible when I saw him. Wait a minute. I’ve got an informant here who may want to tell us where we can find him.”
He was looking at Eda Lou. She shrugged.
“He keeps changing addresses. The last I heard, he had a little business taking pictures of houses for real-estate agents. He must have a phone and a dark room somewhere.”
Shayne relayed this information to Gentry. “Now Mrs. Sims. Kitty Sims. She’s at the International Hotel at Kennedy Airport in New York. Tell her I said it’s O.K. to come back. Send somebody out to meet her plane.” To Eda Lou: “Nobody told me Barbara’s married name.”
“Lemoyne.”
“What hospital does she work at and what kind of car does she drive?”
“Angel of Mercy. Green Oldsmobile, four-door.”
She was meeting his gaze too candidly. He told Gentry, “Barbara Lemoyne. I’m told she may be working at the Angel of Mercy and she drives a green Olds sedan. You’d better check the other big hospitals and see what the Motor Vehicle Bureau says about her car. I hope to be back by ten, if I can talk my friend here into driving me to the heliport. I’ll meet you at the County Courthouse.”
He handed the phone back to Eda Lou and she depressed the bar.
“You really recover when you put your mind to it, don’t you? Anybody else?”
“Hilary Quarrels, the Florida-American Land Company. Let the operator find him. He may not be in Miami.”
Eda Lou raised her eyebrows but made no comment. After giving the operator the necessary information she leaned back, the phone to her ear.
“You’d like a lift to Goose Key,” she said. “Fine. But don’t I deserve one or two morsels in return?” She waved the phone at him and screamed, “What the hell do you mean the game’s fixed?”
Shayne winced. “Quieter. What’s your idea about why Cal left you out of his will?”
She stiffened. “He didn’t. He left me some money. He said in the letter I could live here as long as I please. I’m not wild about this kind of life. I like to have a little something going on. He didn’t know the Key was going to be worth anything.”
Shayne said softly, “The hell he didn’t.”
“Maybe eventually. Not in my lifetime. You’ve talked to a couple of people, done some eavesdropping here and there, somebody sandbagged you, and all of a sudden you know more than everybody else combined! What game is fixed? You can’t drop a remark like that and expect people to pretend they didn’t hear it. I’m more than a match for you, Mike Shayne! You explain that this minute, or so help me I slug you with the phone!”
Shayne laughed. “Did you find anything when you dug those holes out in the swamp?”
She looked at him open-mouthed. “I wish I knew how much you heard,” she muttered.
“Everything that was said in this room,” he told her. “Let’s talk about Shanahan. Was he Brad’s lawyer, too?”
“God, no. He never handled anybody small.”
“Who made the deal that got Cal his jail sentence?”
“You’re really going back, lover. Frank made it, who else? And it was a tricky thing. He reached a couple of guys on the jury. They dismissed three out of four counts and let him off easy with manslaughter.”
Shayne was scraping his chin with one thumbnail. “What did you do while Cal was in jail?”
She smiled slightly. “Baby, that intuition of yours. I couldn’t write him because we weren’t man and wife. If I had to send him any messages, and I did, all the time, they had to go in through his lawyer.”
“You moved in with Shanahan?”
“This is ancient history! It sounds lewd to say it at my age, but I was only twenty-five then, and any time I had to spend a night by myself it was a night wasted. That was my philosophy. Cal never knew what was going on. Why dredge it up now? If you think that’s why he included me out of the Key, you’re wrong.”
Noises came from the phone and she sat forward. “Mr. Michael Shayne calling. Hold the line.”
The detective took the phone. “Quarrels?” he said without preliminary. “About the Key Gaspar deal. You’ve probably heard that another joint tenant was killed last night?”
“No,” the voice said cautiously. “Which one?”
“Uncle Brad.”
Eda Lou picked up Shayne’s empty coffee cup and took it to the kitchen.
“When you say killed,” Quarrels said, “I take it you mean accidentally?”
“No. He was knifed, cut up with a broken bottle and shot. All of which goes to prove that Gaspar actually may be worth something. I understand your purchase hinges on a document purporting to be a treasure map.”
Quarrels gave a small chuckle. “Put it like that and it seems absurd. But it’s going to give us a wonderful selling angle.”
“I can already see the ads,” Shayne said dryly. “How about you personally? Do you think there’s buried treasure on the Key?”
“Well-l, if you want an off-the-record answer, and I’ll deny it if anybody quotes me, let’s say that on that subject I have a well developed bump of cynicism. At the same time, I recognize a first-class story when I see one. There isn’t much romance in real-estate development as a rule, Shayne. We sell location and shelter. At so much a square foot. If you can add a small dash of pirate gold, yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum and all that, and make it look reasonably plausible, it gives you an edge. That’s all we’re looking for here. Will the Key be mentioned in connection with Tuttle’s death?”
“You can bet on it. I want to be sure I understand your attitude. As far as you’re concerned there are only two possibilities? If your bulldozers turn up a chest of doubloons you get back your out-of-pocket costs. If they don’t, you still get mileage out of the story.”
Eda Lou returned with another aromatic cup of coffee. Shayne drank some and set it down.
Quarrels said, “I think I can go along with that. It’s either-or.”
“No, there’s a third possibility,” Shayne said. “That you’re being taken.”
“I don’t quite see-”
“If the key word in the publicity is ‘fraud’ instead of ‘romance’ you’ll lose that edge, won’t you?”
There was a moment’s silence. Shayne sipped at his coffee royal while he waited. Eda Lou had put more cognac in this one.
Quarrels said carefully, “Will you enlarge on that a little, Shayne?”