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.”
“What’s it worth to you to drop the whole thing? Let it lie the way it is. Everybody’s happy that way.”
Shayne tugged at the lobe of his ear, then rubbed his angular chin. “I’ve turned down a lot of pay-offs in my time,” he warned Renslow. “This’ll have to be good to interest me.”
“Hell! It’s not as if you really had anything on me.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No,” Renslow emphasized savagely. “Not a damned thing.”
“Darnell didn’t kill Leora Thrip, you know.”
Renslow stared at Shayne a long time. Shayne stared back. Mona broke the silence by saying cheerily, “Let’s all us menfolks have a drink.” She stood up steadily and reached for the absinthe bottle.
With his gaze still boring at the ex-convict, Shayne said, “That’s a good idea. But that green stuff will drive you nuts. I’ve got something better in my coat pocket. I’m going to pull it out, Renslow.”
He slid a hand slowly into his coat pocket and drew out the bottle of cognac. Mona made a wry face and asked, “How many calls for my special?”
“None,” Renslow answered, his eyes fixed avidly on the bottle in Shayne’s hand. He pocketed his short gun and took the bottle from the detective. He took a long drink and handed it back, nodding approval.
Mona poured her own drink and sat down on the divan. Shayne took a drink and set the bottle on the floor where Renslow could reach it. He settled back and lit a cigarette and said:
“All we need now is someone to take the rap for Joe Darnell.”
“To hell with that.” Renslow made a violent gesture. “When the estate’s divided I’ll put more dough in your pocket than you could pick up in your lousy racket the rest of your life.”
Shayne shook his head. “I’m stubborn,” he admitted. “Maybe there’s a fool streak of pride left in me. I’ll never give Peter Painter the satisfaction of seeing me run out of town.”
“Hell, you’ll have enough jack to buy and sell Painter,” Renslow scoffed. He reached for the bottle and took a swig.
Shayne shook his head angrily. “There’s more to it than that. You ought to know what I’m talking about. You beat a life rap because you wouldn’t let your sister get away with what you figured was a raw deal.”
“All right, why not frame one of the Thrip kids?” said Renslow generously. “They were both there last night. They both hated Leora because she held out on them. Maybe one of them did do it,” he added as an afterthought.
“Maybe,” Shayne agreed. “But it’d be damn hard to prove.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him and thrust both hands deep into his trousers pockets. His lips pursed into a whistle and he frowned in perplexity.
Mona shuddered at him over her absinthe. “Good Lord! I never saw anything like this in my life-you two sitting there-planning who to frame for a murder as calmly as if you were deciding what to order for supper.”
Shayne’s frown deepened. He paid no attention to her. “We’ve got to have somebody with a motive and opportunity,” he announced. He looked at Renslow suddenly and asked, “How about those notes you wrote your sister? Any chance of their being traced back to you?”
Renslow’s jaw sagged, his eyes keenly defensive. “What notes?”
“I thought we were through playing round the mulberry bush. We’re going to have to get together if we put this thing over right.”
“Sure. That’s what I say. But I don’t know anything about any notes.” He muttered, and took another drink.
Shayne said angrily, “The hell you don’t. If you’re going to hold out on me I’m through, by God.” He got up and started for the door, his jaw jutting.
“Wait,” Renslow begged. “Don’t go running out on me. Honest to God, I’m giving it to you straight What notes are you talking about?”
Shayne stopped near the door. He half turned back, looking from Renslow to Mona with an expression of slowly dawning understanding. “Maybe you didn’t, Renslow, maybe you didn’t. Then that gives it to us on a platter.” He came back slamming his fist into an open palm. “That puts it up to Carl Meldrum. He fits right in the groove.”
He was watching Mona closely from low-lidded eyes. He saw her body jerk. Liqueur spilled from her glass.
“Carl Meldrum?” Renslow repeated. “Yeah. He fits swell and he as good as told me there was something between him and Leora.”
“He’s got Dorothy Thrip on the string,” Shayne explained swiftly. He continued to watch Mona while he spoke to Renslow. “He got tired of waiting for her stepmother to die and leave the girl money so he could marry her and get his hands on it.”
Mona drained her glass and threw it on the floor. “That’s a lie,” she cried passionately. “Do you think I’m going to sit here and let you frame Carl? That’s too much! Sure, he was playing the girl for what he could get, but don’t you think he wasn’t coming home when she paid off.”
“He was there at one-thirty last night,” Shayne told her. “He beat it to the Tally-Ho and told you to fix him up an alibi from one o’clock on.”
“That’s another lie,” Mona raged. Her splendid poise was gone again. “It’s all a pack of lies. He got to the Tally-Ho at one o’clock. I can prove it by half a dozen witnesses.”
“Sure,” Shayne said easily. “You’re a sap and fixed it for him. You’ve been a sap all this time and don’t know it. Get wise. He’s just using you.”
“If I believed that, I’d-” She leaned toward the men, making talons of her long, red-tipped fingers.
“It’s the truth,” Shayne urged. “Here’s your chance to get even. Bust his alibi for last night-that’s all I ask. I’ll
