“You’re crazy. You can’t get away with anything as raw as that.” Renslow came to his feet with a rush. The protesting words poured out like floodwaters bursting a dam. “I’m not going to sit on my pratt and let you frame me into the chair. Maybe you weren’t so smart when you held that note out. No one else knows about it. If I bump you, no one ever will.” He whirled and caught up a straight chair, turned threateningly while his eyes blazed hatred at the detective.
Shayne laughed shortly. “Put that chair down. There’s been enough killing.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” Renslow began to inch forward.
Shayne stood his ground. “Don’t be any more of a damned fool than you can help,” he advised Renslow coldly. “You won’t be any better off with a broken neck than if you were squatting on the hot seat. I’m still open for bids,” he went on casually.
Renslow stopped inching forward. His tense grip on the chair relaxed slightly. In a choked voice he said, “You know I won’t be able to meet Thrip’s bid. I’m out on a limb for cash.”
Shayne said, “Let go of that chair and sit down.” After a moment’s hesitation, Renslow obeyed. Receding anger left him shaken and afraid.
Shayne said, “That’s better. Now, look. Can’t you raise some cash on your prospects? A man who stands to inherit several million dollars ought to be able to raise a few grand if he tries hard enough.”
“Not as much as twenty-five,” Renslow faltered. “I don’t know where-”
“That was just my asking price. Hell, I’m not a hard guy to deal with. In fact, I’m a damned softy about giving an ex-con a break. Double your offer and I’ll play ball with you.”
“You mean-double twenty-five hundred?”
“That’s right.” Shayne nodded encouragement. “Just five grand-enough to keep me in drinking-liquor a few months while I get the taste of this case washed out of my mouth. How about it?”
Renslow emptied his bourbon glass and some of the color came back into his face. He nodded slowly. “I think maybe I could raise that much. Mona-she’s got some contacts with heavy dough.”
“I don’t give a damn where or how you get it. Noon today is the deadline though.”
“That doesn’t give me much time.”
“It’s all you can have. This thing is so damn hot I’ve got to drop it by noon.”
“I don’t know. I’ll do my best to raise it by then.”
“You’d better succeed,” Shayne told him implacably. “Be here with the cash at noon or the real note goes into the hands of the cops.”
“And if I do-?”
“If you’re here with five grand at twelve o’clock you’ll be in the clear. I’ll guarantee you a long life out of jail.”
“You won’t cross me up? You won’t go to Thrip and give him a chance to bid higher?”
“To hell with it if you can’t trust me,” Shayne growled. “I’m not signing any affidavits, if that’s what you mean. I’m playing with fire to give you a break, and you’ll have to trust me-or else.”
“Yeah,” Renslow agreed dismally, “I guess I will.” He sighed and got up. “I’ll raise that dough if I have to crack the First National Bank.”
“Good.” Shayne flashed him a smile and stepped forward to slap him on the shoulder. “You won’t regret it.” He steered Renslow toward the door. “But I’ll make it my business to see that you do regret it if you’re not here.”
He opened the door and watched Renslow go toward the elevator. He closed it softly, moved across the room to a window, and lifted a shade to see dawn lighting the sleeping city. He suddenly realized that he had not closed his eyes since the telephone got him out of bed more than twenty-four hours previously.
He dropped the shade and went to the telephone, where he called the Thrip number. He waited a long time with the receiver to his ear before the butler’s sleepy voice answered.
He asked for Mr. Thrip and the butler assured him it was quite out of the question to awaken his master at such an ungodly hour. The detective told the butler Mike Shayne was calling and it was pretty damned important. The butler grumbled and then acceded. Shayne waited a while longer and finally Thrip’s querulous voice came over the wire:
“Mr. Shayne? I’m quite certain you have nothing to say that could not wait until a more decent hour.”
Shayne said, “Don’t be too certain. Pinch yourself and wake up enough to understand what I say the first time I say it. I have in my possession a note from Carl Meldrum that was delivered to your brother-in-law at the Tally-Ho just before midnight. In it, Meldrum states that he was an eyewitness to your wife’s murder and demands hush money for keeping his testimony from the police. As you doubtless know, Carl Meldrum is now dead and the only tangible evidence against Renslow is this note. If I suppress it, Renslow will surely go free and be in a position to claim his half of the estate. If I turn it over to the police it will positively clinch the case against your wife’s murderer. Renslow has offered me five thousand dollars to destroy the note. Is it worth more than that to you to have the police see it?”
“Why, this is shocking,” Thrip protested. “Definitely illegal. You can’t play fast and loose with murder evidence in that way.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Thrip echoed incredulously. “Because I refuse to countenance any such infamous proposal. I will most certainly report you to the police.”
“Don’t be a complete fool. All I have to do is to destroy the note and deny this conversation-and that will cost you a few million and the satisfaction of seeing your wife’s murderer executed.”
“See here,” blustered Thrip, “you can’t-”
Shayne said, “Okay, pal,” and hung up.
He went to the table and lit a cigarette. His telephone began ringing. He let it ring quite a while before stepping back and lifting the receiver. Mr. Thrip sounded distinctly harried this time.
“Ah, Mr. Shayne. I may have been a trifle hasty-”
Shayne growled, “You were.”
“Yes. Ah-on second thought I realize you are unscrupulous enough to do exactly as you threatened. While I object to being the victim of coercion I most certainly am unwilling to see the murderer of my wife go unpunished. You-mentioned five thousand dollars?”
“That’s right. That’s all Renslow can raise on the spur of the moment. I have a living to make, so I’m naturally anxious to get a higher offer.”
“You are the most openly unscrupulous man I’ve ever encountered,” Mr. Thrip told him warmly. “Ah-suppose we say six thousand?”
“That’s better than five,” Shayne agreed promptly. “Bring the cash-it’s better than a check in a delicate situation like this. Have it here at noon. Twelve o’clock sharp. Any later will be too late.” He gave Thrip the address and hung up.
He hesitated about going upstairs to the empty and silent apartment. There were too many things to remind him of Phyllis-and that she was spending the night in jail. He opened a window and stretched out on the couch in his office. He was sleeping soundly a minute after he lay down.
Chapter Twenty: PHOTO FINISH
Michael Shayne awoke at eleven o’clock. He swung his legs over the edge of the lounge and sat hunched over for a moment, running knobby fingers through his stiff red hair. Only an hour until the blow-off and he still had several things to do.
He swiftly checked over his plans, and mentally okayed them. This promised to be the sort of photo finish he enjoyed-split-second timing with lives hanging in the balance while he sat back and pulled the strings.
He went into the bathroom and doused his face and head with cold water. Red bristles showed damply on his face when he came out of the bathroom, but his shaving-things were upstairs and he still wasn’t quite ready to face that empty apartment.
He called Peter Painter first and spoke to the Miami Beach detective chief concisely:
“Shayne talking, with no time to waste. I’m cleaning up the Thrip and Meldrum cases in my office at noon sharp. I need those extortion notes received by Mrs. Thrip. And I want you to stop by the Palace Hotel and see if Meldrum had access to a typewriter there. Bring it with you if he did. Got that?”