“Editorially, we are taking no sides in this controversy, but the NEWS is inclined to caution those persons and organizations demanding the immediate revocation of Mr. Shayne’s license to withhold judgment for a time at least to see what new facts may be brought to light to substantiate either Mr. Shayne’s story or that of the Miami Beach police authorities.
“Michael Shayne holds an excellent record of solving difficult and tangled cases in the past and it appears that he may be in possession of clues overlooked by the police, who may, as Shayne bluntly charges, have been overwilling to call the case ‘closed’ without investigating closely.
“The NEWS, at least, promises to follow Shayne’s private investigation with sympathy and interest, and to report the results to its readers without fear or favor.”
Mona Tabor dropped the newspaper in her lap when she finished. She reached for her tiny glass of absinthe while her gaze went slowly to Shayne’s face. The passion behind her eyes had been replaced by a glint of fear.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a taut voice. “What did that stuff about Carl mean? Talk, damn you.”
“So you didn’t know he was a dick?” Renslow put in smoothly. “He pulled the wool over your eyes, eh? What about Carl? I wondered, by God-”
“Shut up,” Mona hissed in his direction. “Shayne doesn’t know anything. He’s only guessing.”
“Pretty good guessing,” Shayne put in lazily.
“Maybe you won’t think it’s so good before you get out of here,” Mona shrilled. For the moment she reverted to type. Anger and alarm stripped away the veneer of respectability from the real Mona Tabor, who wasn’t so many years removed from the gutter. She drained the last drop of her absinthe from a glass which shook in her hand. Then she sank back against the divan.
“Maybe you’re doing some damn good guessing,” Renslow amplified, his voice cold as ice. “Carl Meldrum’s been playing some screwy game of his own all this time. And don’t think I don’t know it. I never did quite figure that guy out, but when I first met him and he found out I was Leora’s brother and hated her, he got tight and spilled to me that he knew her and hated her too. That’s one reason I’ve been keeping track of him-one reason why I beat it up here today.”
“You damn lying stoolie!” Mona’s voice was acid. “I mighta known an ex-convict would try something like that.”
Shayne’s eyes had been shooting from Mona to Renslow as he maintained his position against the window, his big hands on his knees. He grinned inwardly and said, “Let’s get together on this.” His voice was cool, disinterested. “I don’t mind saying I’d like to know who really bumped your sister off. How about you, Renslow?”
A crafty look came over Renslow’s face. He said, “I’m willing to let it lie the way it is.”
“I’m not. I’m not letting Joe Darnell take the rap for it.” Shayne’s big shoulders rose, his body was hunched toward Renslow.
“Maybe you’ll decide to,” Renslow suggested softly. “Maybe after we talk it over you’ll get smart.”
“What’s eating you?” Shayne burst out. “I haven’t been barking up your tree. Suppose I do pin it on Carl Meldrum? What’s that to you? Nobody’s got anything to worry about,” he soothed, “except your sister’s murderer.”
The lines on Buell Renslow’s face deepened and he jerked out harshly, “Look, shamus, I know the way you John Laws figure, see? I did one long stretch finding out all right. So I’m an ex-convict and whoever squeezed Leora’s white neck last night did a job that was worth plenty to me. If you don’t know that already you’re smart enough to dope it out pretty quick. So where does that put me? Don’t think I’m dumb enough to expect the truth to do me any good. Even if I wasn’t within a mile of that house last night you can buy witnesses that saw me going in the front door.”
“You’re all fixed if you’ve got an alibi,” Shayne growled. “I’ve never railroaded a man in my life.”
“Nuts! I listened to that once before and it got me plenty of years in the big house to think it over. My old man and the D.A. both gave me the same song and dance. Be honest-come clean-and get off light.”
Buell Renslow was an embittered old man now, looking back over the wreckage which too many years behind bars had made of him. His hands shook and the cocked revolver shook with them. Shayne fervently hoped the gun had a strong trigger pull. He knew the symptoms of stir-fever and the lengths to which it will drive a man.
“Yeah. They patted me on the back and told me to face it out,” Renslow went on in a tone of bitter disillusionment. “It was an accident. We were all drinking. Sure, the only disgrace would be in running away. Pay your debt to society, my boy!”
He was deliberately reaching back to reopen the old wound, twisting the knife of recollection in his own bowels, bringing back into vivid focus those horror-filled days and endless nights which had seen him segregated from his fellow men like a beast behind bars. He spoke in a jerky monotone that was more terrible than a burst of violence:
“All right. So I was a damned fool. That was when every Colorado mining town had its Boot Hill. The trial was going to be a farce with maybe a suspended sentence or six months at worst. Sure, I stood up and told my story to twelve men that hated my guts because I was Alonzo Renslow’s boy and he had taken millions out of the ground while they starved looking for a vein. So it was first degree and life-you rich man’s bastard. All right.
“Here’s the rest of it if you want to know why I’ll kill you rather than take another chance. Did my old man stick by me? Did Miss Sniveling Leora play ball? What do you think? You know all the signals. How many of Alonzo Renslow’s millions would it have taken to pull me out of that hellhole? My old man didn’t spend them, did he? Why not? Do I have to tell you? Because Leora talked him out of it. She wasn’t satisfied with half. She wanted it all. As long as I wore stripes it was all hers. Yeah. And now it’s not hers any longer. Do you see now why I’ll gun you rather than take another chance of telling the truth in court?”
“It seems to me,” said Shayne mildly, “that you’re only building up a case against yourself. You not only profited by your sister’s death, but you hated her.”
“Sure I did. And what good will it do me to swear I was in bed when it happened? I’m whipped before I start. When you start them looking beyond that punk that Thrip killed they’ll end up by putting me in the hot seat and don’t think I can’t see it coming.”
“You don’t think Joe Darnell killed your sister, do you?”
“What I think about it doesn’t count. The bulls think so-now. Unless you start them thinking in another direction they’ll go right on thinking so.”
“But it’s my rump if they hang it on Darnell,” Shayne argued good-naturedly. “My license will be revoked and I’ll be up a dirty creek without a paddle.”
“So what? You’ll still be alive and free. That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Not enough.”
“You sure about that?” Buell Renslow spoke very gently.
Shayne nodded. “I’m positive. Don’t be a fool, Renslow. I don’t bluff, and killing me won’t get you anywhere. If you’re clean on last night, play it that way. If not, you’d better back out of here and start running like hell.”
“And leave a million dollars behind? Oh, no!” Renslow was beginning to shake again. He gnawed at the inner walls of his cheeks, then burst out, “If I take it on the lam I’ll be sure you’re fixed so you can’t start chasing me.”
Mona sat up, glassy-eyed, shaking her head in disgust. “You’re not doing yourselves any good glaring at each other. From what I’ve heard about Mike Shayne, Buell, he’s always looking for a chance to feather his nest. Why not feather it for him?”
“Y-e-a-h.” Renslow nodded slowly. His eyes brightened. “You’re not so dumb at that, Mona. Maybe we can get together on a little deal, Shayne.”
Shayne said, “Maybe.”