Shayne moved back to the couch and sat down on one arm of it, swinging one bony knee over the other. He said, “Don’t put too much faith in that picture Jake just snapped, MacFarlane. My reputation will take a lot of beatings without being injured.”
“It was an idea,” MacFarlane said pleasantly. He opened a leather cigar case and offered one to the detective. He frowned when Shayne shook his head, and selected one for himself. “I don’t like the way things are going, Shayne. One of us is going to get hurt if we bump into each other often.”
“That’s right.” Shayne lit a cigarette and waited for Cocopalm’s purveyor of vice to continue.
“Why did you insist on coming out here tonight?” MacFarlane made a weary gesture with long, slender fingers. “The Rendezvous can’t afford any trouble with the law.”
“You forced the issue,” Shayne pointed out. “Having your boys jump me in the hotel was an invitation for me to stick my nose in.”
Grant MacFarlane nodded. “That was unfortunate.” He paused, studying the glowing tip of his cigar. “I presume you wouldn’t believe me if I told you they were not acting on my orders.”
“Why should I?”
MacFarlane sighed audibly, then nodded. “I see your point. But isn’t it conceivable to you that someone else arranged that little scene for the sole purpose of pointing at me if they failed to put you out of the way?”
Shayne studied him with cold eyes. The man’s skin was grayish white, his face was long and finely chiseled. His coat sunk in over a concave belly, and his trouser legs bagged over long, skinny legs. He said, “Keep on talking, MacFarlane.”
“You can understand how handy Taylor and Leroy’s known association with me would be.”
Shayne dragged on his cigarette and let smoke curl from his wide nostrils. “I see the point you are trying to make,” he agreed placidly. “But you’re going to have a hard time convincing me you didn’t send the girl out on the road to bait me into this trap.”
“That was after you had already determined to make trouble for me. On the other hand, there’s another answer to that. Midge Taylor is Gil Matrix’s sweetheart.”
“Midge-Taylor?” A muscle in Shayne’s cheek quivered.
“That’s right. She’s Bud Taylor’s sister. Knowing you had killed her brother, it wouldn’t take much to persuade Midge to harm you in any way she could.”
Shayne studied those two fresh angles carefully. After a brief interval he asked, “Are you denying you planned this setup with Jake and Conway-and the girl?”
“Would you believe me if I did deny it?”
Shayne growled, “No.”
“Then I shan’t bother.” MacFarlane spread out his long, classic fingers expressively. “I believe though that I have given you something else to think about-a few questions to ask yourself while you’re blundering around in the dark. Leave me alone, Shayne, and you’ll be left alone.”
“Otherwise?”
“I’ve always managed to take care of myself.” Grant MacFarlane hesitated, then asked plaintively, “Why can’t we get together? You’re no crusader for purity. I’ve got a good thing here and I admit you can make a fight expensive-without any gain to yourself.”
Shayne said, “I’ve been hired to stop the counterfeiting at the dog track.”
MacFarlane’s eyes glowed with a queer light. “Are you willing to settle on that basis?”
“What basis? That the counterfeiting stop?”
“Well, I believe I can promise-”
Shayne said, “No,” emphatically. “I don’t close my cases that way. Stopping the cashing of counterfeit tickets won’t stop me, MacFarlane. It could start up again at another track just as easily. I’m not through in Cocopalm until I put my finger on the counterfeiter.”
“And that,” MacFarlane murmured, “is what I’m offering to do for you.”
Shayne narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He stood up and said, “It wouldn’t be any fun to play it your way even if you were on the level-which I don’t believe. I’ll take my game on the wing-after I’ve done my own flushing.”
“Have it your way,” MacFarlane answered lazily. He reached behind him and pressed a button on the wall.
The door opened almost instantly. Conway and another man stood there.
MacFarlane waved his hand toward Shayne and directed, “Show this man down the back stairs to his car. Follow along and see that he goes directly back to Cocopalm.”
Shayne started for the door, hesitated, and turned back to the night club proprietor. He took the check for $23.50 from his pocket and handed it to MacFarlane. “I almost forgot. Take this and hang it in some convenient place.”
He went out and the two men followed him down the stairs.
Chapter Nine: MIKE FIGURES THE ANGLES
Phyllis was sitting in a deep chair in the ladies’ lounge of the lobby, a self-conscious little nook set off from the main lobby by potted palms and ferns, decorated here and there with bright red poinsettia blossoms in tall, earth-filled urns. Her big dark eyes were anxious and a tiny frown showed between her brows.
When Shayne walked in at the front door the frown evaporated as she went swiftly to meet him. She caught his arm, looked up into his face, and the frown appeared again.
“Michael! What on earth is the matter with your face!”
He patted her hand, propelling her firmly toward the empty and secluded lounge. “Not so loud, angel. You see, it was this way-I was driving along the highway, and there in front of me, clearly visible in the headlights, was a little kitten. It looked awfully thin and hungry and run down at the heels, so I stopped and took it in. Now, you know I’m always kind to animals, and I was kind to this one, but believe it or not, it scratched me.”
Phyllis’s soft young mouth tightened. “Blonde or brunette?” she asked.
“This was one of those little yellow kittens-a common variety,” he returned, still patting her hand.
“After this, I’ll go with you,” she said.
Shayne answered her with a soft chuckle but he did not commit himself.
Phyllis stiffened and pulled her arm away from him as they reached the deserted lounge. “Will Gentry is here,” she said in an anxious undertone.
“Now, Phyl, be reasonable,” he urged. “Where?” His eyes darted around the main lobby searching for the chief of the Miami detective bureau.
“He’s upstairs-in our suite.” She sat down in one of the deep chairs and spread her hands in a prim, indignant gesture. “He and Chief Boyle are up there waiting for you. Mr. Gentry sounded quite grim when he telephoned and I said you were out but that I expected you back any minute. I slipped out and left the door open before he got there. I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see him, so I came down to warn you.” She glanced up at his face again. “I go to all this trouble when you come back looking like-”
“That was fast thinking, darling,” he interrupted. He grinned widely. “Must be something on the Martin killing.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she answered faintly.
Looking past her, past the screening palms and ferns and flowers, the redheaded detective stiffened. A deep line formed at the outer corner of each nostril, angled down to his wide mouth.
Phyllis glanced up and saw his face. “What-” she began.
“Oh. Yeh, I heard you, angel.” His tone was studiously casual. He turned slowly and looked down at her. “Why don’t you run out to the races and amuse yourself?”
“And leave you here-in trouble? No.”
“Trouble?” Shayne scoffed. “Not in Cocopalm. I’ve got the toughs eating out of my hand.”
“But what about Mr. Gentry-and Chief Boyle?”
“I’ll teach them to eat out of my hand too,” Shayne assured her lightly. He swung her up from the chair. “You run along to the track and pick some losers, angel. I’ll finish things up here and try to get out for the last race. Watch for me around the jinny pit.”