She smiled. “Some people think so. I do not. Robert has seen fit to disappear for the moment, but he isn’t in a grave — most certainly not in a watery grave.”
“How come?”
“Well, falling off a yacht is hardly Robert’s way to die. You’d have to know my brother to understand that, of course. But when Robert dies, he will have been killed violently or he will have taken his own life — just for the experience. Violence and death, people getting killed, have been a part of his life, Mr. Shayne, linked to most of his many ventures and adventures. It’s the way Robert will die.”
“Tumbling over the side of a yacht would be a little pale for him?”
“Yes.”
“But how about if he got knocked from the yacht by a huge wave in a storm?”
She shook her head. “There are two things wrong with that thinking. One, Robert went out alone. Two, he is an expert yachtsman, wise to the sea. Therefore, it follows, logically, that he is not dead.”
“Logically?” Shayne cocked an eyebrow.
She sighed. “Mr. Shayne, should Robert someday choose to die by his own hand, he will not be alone during the act — he will have an audience. Perhaps me, perhaps you, perhaps anyone. That’s just my brother. And, as to the other premise, if there was a storm the night Robert went out, the yacht survived. That means Robert survived.”
Shayne lit a cigaret, drew on it.
The woman extended a palm without getting up from the chair. “Please?”
Shayne started to lean into her, but she said, “No. Toss it.”
It was a challenge. He tossed the cigaret. She caught it deftly in her palm. She picked it up with her other hand, smoked.
Shayne grunted. “You Tieners are tough nuts, huh?”
“Very tough,” she said softly, suddenly staring at her bare toes. She wiggled the toes, but Shayne had a hunch she didn’t see the movement. “Which is the reason Robert isn’t dead,” she continued, sounding as if she was reassuring herself once again.
Shayne took time to light another cigaret. “Okay, so where is your brother today?”
She looked up. “Oh, I don’t know that!”
“No contact between you and him, huh?”
“Certainly not!”
“Got any ideas about why he wanted to disappear for a while?”
“It probably fits into some money-making scheme he has concocted. All of Robert’s ventures make money, you know. But as to details...” She shrugged, smoked, added, “I wouldn’t know.”
“He hasn’t holed up in remorse? I understand he recently lost his wife.”
She stiffened, said coldly, “Jane was a tramp!”
“She overpowered your brother? Had him taken to the altar in chains?”
Mrs. Montgomery snapped her cigaret into the blue-watered swimming pool. “Robert has had four wives. Three of them have been nice girls. They are living quite comfortably today, enjoying young men their own age because they were patient with Robert. But Jane couldn’t wait. She had to have another man while still with Robert. The consequence is obvious. She is dead and the man will be an invalid the remainder of his years. Fair enough, I say. Of course, Robert has said nothing and never will. He will talk about the loss of his dog, but not the loss of his wife.”
“What happened to his dog?”
She waved a hand, her rings flashing in the sunshine. “The dog was poisoned. Someone threw poisoned meat into the yard. Strychnine. Robert’s dog ate it and died. Robert was so furious, he immediately went to Angola.”
Shayne frowned and she waved her hand again. “He was going there anyway — some business trip or something. He merely went a week earlier. He had it settled when he returned, so it was a good trip for him.”
She paused, abruptly was calm again. She smiled. “Actually, it was one of his more productive journeys. He returned with Tony. I like Tony. He is considerate, dependable. I think he is a much better man than Lou Crawford.”
“And who is Lou Crawford?”
“Oh, he used to be Robert’s boy, but he got into some kind of trouble in Angola and his head was lopped off, I understand. Robert never did explain fully. All I know is, he returned with Tony as a replacement for Lou. Tony was fighting in some kind of war down there.”
Shayne yanked an earlobe. “Tony know where your brother is?”
“Certainly. He’s Robert’s contact with the world. It’s one of the reasons Robert has a young man. You must understand, Mr. Shayne, this is not the first time my brother has dropped out of sight for one reason or another.”
“Yeah.” The detective nodded from deep thought. “How come he does that, Mrs. Montgomery? Why does he occasionally go underground?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “Nor do I question Robert’s behavior. He provides for me without question or quibble. I reciprocate by not being inquisitive. But I must admit I’m curious about you, your presence. And you are not a provider, so why are you asking questions about my brother?”
“I’m investigating three murders.”
“Three. My goodness!”
“Two of the victims were employed at Tiener South.”
“Tiener South employs thousands of people around the world, Mr. Shayne, and I’d venture that some of those people die daily, some by accident, some by foul play, some—”
“These victims lived here, Mrs. Montgomery, and at least one of them may have enjoyed a close relationship with your brother.”
“That would be Miss Stewart, of course. Robert always thought a lot of Miss Stewart. She was quite efficient, I understand and closed-mouth, which is important to my brother. I was startled when I heard the news of her death on radio this morning. I summoned Tony immediately. Robert had to be informed, of course.”
“And Tony said?”
She smiled. “He already had been in contact with Robert. See? I told you Tony is a good boy for Robert.”
“I ran into Tony over at Miss Stewart’s apartment building last night.”
“My! What were you two doing there?”
“I was investigating one of the other murders. I don’t know about Tony. The next time I see him, I’ll ask.”
“So will I.” She nodded.
Then she stood up, looked down on the detective, smiled. “Good day, Mr. Shayne. You are an interesting man, but please do not return to my home. I have a very strange feeling about you.”
She went to the pool’s edge, knifed cleanly into the water. Shayne watched her glide the length of the pool without surfacing. She finally stood in the water at the far end, spine to the detective. She did not turn around.
He went around the comer of the house and found Tony Andrews braced against the front door of the Buick. Andrews didn’t stir as Shayne approached. Only when the detective stopped about two feet in front of him did Andrews step away from the car, giving Shayne ample room to open the door.
He said, “She’s wacky, Shayne.” He tapped the side of his head. “No longer packed tight up here.” His voice was flat, soft. He showed no emotion. “The Old Man is dead. She won’t accept.”
“So who are you working for these days, pal?”
He was cold. “The company.”
“You strangle the Stewart dame for the company?”
“I went to see her last night because late yesterday afternoon she called and said she had something important to the company to relate.”
“And?”
“She did not answer my ring at her door, naturally. You had been there. You came out of the elevator before I got on. I assume you killed her. Why did you kill her? If it doesn’t have anything to do with the company, I’m not interested. I have other things yet to do today. But if—”
“You stake out Burns and Singleton in a swamp a few days ago, Tony?” the redhead cut in.