you’re not smart. A sweet little gal defending her honor against a drunken brute. Boy, was that flashlight one a honey!”
“I’m not in the mood to appreciate artistry right now,” Shayne snapped. He pressed the handkerchief against his face again. “You said the plate wasn’t for sale. What do you want for it?”
“Just for you to get out of Cocopalm, mister. Get out and stay out, see? We’ve been doing all right here without any nosy dicks from the big city butting in.”
“And if I don’t get out?”
“That’s okay too. You seem to go in for publicity. We’ll see how you like this picture on the front page. It’ll show you up some different from the one in today’s Voice.”
Midge jerked herself to a strained and stiff position. “Oh-no!” she cried. “You couldn’t. They promised me-you know Gil wouldn’t print that picture.”
“Gil’s hell bent on printing the news,” the man guffawed. “You know that as well as I do. Why shouldn’t he print it?”
“Oh, God,” moaned the girl. She fell back against the couch, covering her face again, her shoulders quivering.
Shayne laughed unpleasantly and asked, “Why the hell did you think you were pulling this stunt, sister? The only value of a picture like that is the threat of publicity.”
“But they told me-they said you-that you wouldn’t-”
“That,” said Shayne harshly, “is where ‘they’ miscalculated. I’m not afraid of publicity. But when your dad, the deacon, sees it-”
The gunman snickered and slapped his thigh. “Your dad, the deacon, huh? By God, if you ain’t a card, Midge.”
She jumped to her feet and went blindly toward the door. Neither of the men made any move to stop her. When she had gone out, Shayne said, “So, MacFarlane is worried about what I’ll pick up on the counterfeiting? Tell him for me that he’d better keep right on worrying. The only way I’ll leave Cocopalm is flat on my back.”
The gunman’s eyes glistened. “Maybe that’s an idea.”
Shayne nodded. “Maybe so. But he’d better hire a couple of faster rod flashers than those two he planted in the hotel for me tonight.”
“That’s a funny thing.” The man screwed his forehead up in a perplexed frown. “I dunno why Leroy and Taylor went gunning for you. I know for a fact Mac didn’t give a damn what you did until you got so set on snooping around out here.”
“Why?” Shayne shot at him. “Are the counterfeits being printed here at the club?”
“I don’t know nothing about it,” the man grunted. Shayne glanced at his beer mug and saw a small amount of liquid in the bottom. He emptied it with relish, grinning as he set it down empty. He then took up the check for $23.50 and smoothed it out in his big hands. “I’ve still got to see MacFarlane to tell him where to stick this bill. Where will I find him?”
“I wouldn’t go looking for Mac if I was you. Listen, why don’t you wise up? If you think that picture’s a bluff, you’re crazy. Want your wife to see it?”
Shayne’s laugh was genuine. “So, that’s the angle, eh? Too bad you wasted the plate.”
“You’re talking through your hat, buddy. You know damn well you can’t laugh that picture off.” The man moved uneasily, his ugly little eyes filled with alarm.
“Don’t call me buddy,” Shayne snapped. “Print your picture and be damned.” He stood up. “I’m going to take a look over this joint before I leave.”
“You better not,” the man said desperately. “I’m telling you.” He slid his hand into the coat pocket sagging with the weight of his gun.
Shayne laughed. “MacFarlane wouldn’t want any shooting in here.” He strode toward the door leading into the hall.
The door opened as he reached for the knob.
A tall, ascetic man wearing immaculate dinner clothes confronted him. He had a long face and tired gray eyes which glanced past Shayne at the gunman. He said, “Put that gun back in your pocket, Conway, and get out.”
“Sure, boss. Sure. But this mug, he won’t listen to sense. I was just telling him-”
“I’ll do the telling,” Grant MacFarlane said. He waited until Conway went past him and out the door, then entered the room and sank down in the club chair.
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.”
