Shayne followed him to a small, snug room beyond the living room. Bookshelves lined the spaces between the two windows, and there was a large oak desk in the center. Three leather armchairs were placed at strategic points around it. Seth Gerald snapped on the desk light, augmenting the pale glow from the hall, sat down in the chair behind the desk and waved Shayne to one of the chairs.
Shayne sat down with his legs far apart and slipped the automatic on the cushion between them.
Seth Gerald was leaning laxly forward, his arms folded on the desk, apparently waiting for Shayne to speak. When he didn’t, Gerald said impatiently, “Suppose you say what you have to say and let me go back to bed. I have a thousand and one things to attend to in the morning.”
Shayne let smoke dribble through his nostrils and said, “I’ve been getting around tonight. I think you’ll be interested in my contacts. Mrs. Cornell and Angus, George Brand, Mrs. Roche, and Henry Elwood and Mr. Persona. I’ve learned a lot from each of them, Gerald, and a lot more by putting their stories together.”
“Why come here at this hour of the night to tell me?” Gerald said irritably. “If you’ve learned anything of value it should be turned over to the police.”
“I thought,” said Shayne placidly, “you might want to make a deal.”
“What sort of a deal would I want to make?” His tone was strained and weary.
“That’s for you to decide. After I tell you that practically everything I’ve picked up points to you as Roche’s murderer.”
“That’s preposterous!”
Shayne shrugged and settled deeper in his chair. He recalled that Persona had used exactly the same word in the same tone. He said, “I want to warn you about a couple of things before you get too far out on a limb. In the first place, Ann Cornell and Angus are out of the state. They’ll appear when the time comes, but you can’t get at them until the time does come. And don’t put too much faith in your local police department. Elwood is looking carefully right now at both sides of his bread to see which is buttered thickest. He’s scared as hell, and when a rat gets scared you never know whom he’ll bite. That’s the bad thing about rats,” he ended casually.
“You don’t believe I’m guilty of murder?” Gerald demanded.
“I can make out a hell of a good case against you right now. Have you any proof that you didn’t kill Roche?”
“No absolute proof,” snapped Gerald, “but you certainly haven’t any that I did.”
“Not yet,” Shayne agreed judicially, “but on the surface, it seems right now to stand between you and Jimmy Roche. Did you see Jimmy last night after he phoned you?”
“No. He was…” Seth Gerald paused. Again he ran his hand over his eyes. There was a frown of confusion or anger between them when his hand dropped to the desk again. “I suppose it was bound to come out,” he continued doggedly. “What does Jimmy say?”
“I’m saving him until later. Tell it your way first.”
“I have told it. Just the way it happened, except that it was Jimmy who phoned me to come over and help him prevent Charles and Brand from getting together. I didn’t see any reason for complicating things and mixing him up in it.”
Shayne took a cigarette from the pocket of his polo shirt. “You do look ahead,” he said. “In five years Jimmy will have control of the mines. He doesn’t know or care anything about the mines or the miners. It’s quite possible he may want to keep you on in your soft job when the time comes, and you want to stay on the good side of him.”
Seth Gerald placed his palms on the desk and pushed himself from his chair. “That’s a damned lie.”
Shayne had his gun in hand. “Sit down,” he commanded.
Gerald slowly lowered himself into the chair, his black eyes glittering. “You have the advantage,” he said ironically. “What else do you have to say, Shayne?”
“I suppose you’ll stick to your original story about the Brand house being empty when you got there.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Where was Jimmy Roche?”
“There was a light in his house, so I stopped by on my way up to see Elsa. Jimmy was passed out in his bed. Look here, what do you hope to gain by this? It would only confuse the case against Brand if it comes out.”
Shayne drew on his cigarette, blew out a puff of smoke and said, “You must have got something from Jimmy before you went up to see Mrs. Roche.”
Seth Gerald said wearily, “He muttered something about being tired of Charles arguing with him about what ought to be done about the strike, and left him there waiting for Brand to come home.”
Shayne was thoughtfully silent for a moment, then said flatly, “It still looks like you or Jimmy. Depending on whether Roche was dead before you got there.”
“That’s pure supposition,” Gerald snapped. “Suppose Brand showed up after Jimmy left and before I reached the house? We can presume he lured Roche up the street and murdered him.”
“So you’re going to claim he was dead before you got there,” Shayne said sharply.
“I’m not claiming anything of the sort. I simply don’t know. I’m theorizing to fit the known facts.” Gerald was beginning to perspire profusely. He searched in his robe pockets for a handkerchief but didn’t find one.
“Let’s look at facts the way a jury will,” Shayne suggested. “You’re going to have one hell of a time making anyone believe that Brand was fool enough to kill the man who offered him a signed agreement for settling the strike on Brand’s terms.”
“Charles didn’t… I don’t believe…”
“Charles did and I can prove it,” Shayne interrupted. “When that agreement is produced in court, every vestige of the case against Brand will go up in thin smoke.” He waited tensely to see how Gerald reacted. If he wasn’t worried… if he scoffed at that possibility… it would be strong evidence that he wasn’t afraid the agreement would be produced in court. That he had good reason for knowing it no longer existed.
But Seth Gerald was worried, or else he was thinking as fast as Shayne and putting on a good show to indicate he was. “That would be horrible,” he said. “If you know where such a document is, let me remind you it’s worth a cool five thousand to you to make sure it doesn’t appear in court.”
“There are other considerations besides money.”
“What?” scoffed Gerald. “Don’t tell me that your heart bleeds for the cause of justice. I know something about your reputation.”
“We’ll skip that until a little later. Right now I’m trying to make you understand the seriousness of your situation. If you don’t intend to admit that Roche was dead when you reached him, you’re practically dangling from the end of a rope right now.”
“I don’t see why.” It was apparent that Gerald had thought all this out carefully. “Don’t forget that Jimmy called me in Charles’ presence. Charles knew I was on my way to intervene, so when Brand showed up he probably suggested they go some place else to have their talk. I imagine they disagreed on some of the terms and Brand lost his temper and killed him.”
“You’re disregarding two elements,” said Shayne. “The signed agreement and the fact that you hurried to Mrs. Roche to fix up what amounted to an alibi for Jimmy. A jury will suspect you wouldn’t have done that without damned good reason to think he was going to need an alibi.” He leaned forward to grind out his cigarette.
“No one in this town is going to pay much attention to what Elsa Roche says,” said Gerald contemptuously, “after she’s been flagrantly running around with George Brand.”
Shayne hesitated, his thoughts racing ahead. The most delicate sort of timing was required for what he had in mind. The most carefully wrought intimation to bring the admission he hoped to wring from his host.
He felt his way cautiously. “That may have a certain bearing on the whole case. On the other hand, it isn’t going to be too good for you if it gets around that you and Mrs. Roche weren’t… shall we say… exactly disinterested in each other.”
“That’s a nasty lie,” Gerald snapped.
“Is it?” Shayne grinned widely and relaxed, stretching his long legs out.
Shayne’s grin evidently infuriated Gerald. “What do you mean by such an absurd insinuation?” he burst out. “Where did you pick up a thing like that?”
Shayne looked surprised. “Can’t you guess?”
“I cannot,” said Gerald angrily. He sat stiffly forward, his nostrils flaring with each stertorous breath. “There hasn’t been a breath of scandal about us. Not one breath.”
