Chapter Seven
Shayne recognized his voice when the man asked anxiously:
“What went wrong, Shayne? I had a note ready and tried to put it in your hand, but you closed up tight- refused to accept it. Then you started out and those men picked you up.”
“Dicks from headquarters,” Shayne explained. “I spotted one of them watching us just when you tried to push the note in my hand. It wasn’t safe to take it. They didn’t get anything out of me about you, and I had an idea you’d stick around for another try.”
“Wasn’t that Chief Gentry you were quarreling with?” he asked nervously.
“That’s right. He’s pretty sore because I refused to tell him why Miss Morton called me today. And I’m keeping Miss Lally away from him until I hear your story and decide what I’m going to do.”
“I didn’t kill her, Shayne. I shan’t deny to you that I’m glad someone did. I was a fool to threaten her last night, but I lost my temper-as any man would under the circumstances.”
“And you can’t prove you’re innocent,” said Shayne. “Your threat, coupled with her death in less than twenty-four hours, puts you right on the spot.”
“I have no alibi until seven o’clock. God! If I’d only known it was going to happen-Exactly when was she killed?”
“We’ll skip that for a minute. Even if you can prove you didn’t kill her, you’re willing to pay ten grand to keep your connection with the case quiet?”
“I’m willing to pay that amount to someone I can trust to keep their word. You, for instance. They say you’re unscrupulous about money, but never double-crossed anyone who trusted you. It wasn’t because of the money that I refused to meet Miss Morton’s demand,” he blurted out angrily, “but because I don’t believe it’s ever worth while to pay tribute to a blackmailer. Once they get the first payment they never stop until you’re sucked dry. But I don’t suppose she told you that part of it,” he ended bitterly.
“No-she didn’t mention she was blackmailing you.”
“Naturally not. I wonder how many times she’s pulled this same stunt in the past-posing as a reformer and going around the country collecting medals for cleaning up rackets while she runs a blackmail racket on the side.” He sighed heavily and relaxed the tension that had kept him sitting erect.
Shayne offered him a cigarette. He declined with thanks, and Shayne took his time tapping one on the steering-wheel, striking a match, lighting it, and blowing a cloud of smoke through the window, waiting to see whether he would volunteer any more information.
“You’d better tell me the whole thing your way,” he suggested when the silence grew awkward. “Then I can balance your story against what I already know and decide whether I can afford to cover up for you.”
The man cleared his throat. “Tell me-first-did that secretary hear me make that crazy threat last night?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t mention it to me. What makes you think she might have overheard?”
“Why-I gathered she was sleeping in the next room. The Morton woman called through the bathroom for her to come in after I shot my mouth off. I could hear her plainly when she responded, but I left before she came in.”
“Then she didn’t actually see you?”
“No-but I imagine she heard the whole thing. I didn’t realize it was a connecting bathroom and-well, I had one too many drinks under my belt and guess I talked pretty loud. But how could I know someone else was going to murder her today?” he ended defiantly.
“We’ll assume for the moment that someone else did.”
The man took a long cigar from his pocket. Shayne’s match book was still cupped in his palm. He hastily struck one, held it to the cigar, and studied the man’s features by the brief flare.
He saw strong, irregular features that went well with the heavy shoulders. Around fifty, Shayne guessed, and just before the match flickered out he met Shayne’s gaze squarely.
He pulled on the cigar until the end glowed evenly all around, then said quietly, “I presume you know I am a moderately wealthy man, Shayne. Head of my own company, Burton Harsh Associates-real estate and building promotions. One thing Miss Morton probably didn’t tell you, and it isn’t generally known, is that right at the moment our cash resources are spread pretty thin. During this inflationary boom we’ve been pyramiding investments until we’re top-heavy. Not that we aren’t fundamentally sound,” he added quickly. “We’re quietly unloading, and within ninety days will be in a position to weather any sort of crisis. But right now-as of today-a scandal such as the Morton woman threatened-might easily sweep away everything. If our creditors were to come down on us all at once-force us to liquidate-” He paused.
The last statements were labored and jerky, and when he failed to continue and give the catastrophic results, Shayne sat quietly for a while and tried to remember what he had heard or read about the man. The name of Burton Harsh was vaguely familiar, and he gradually recalled having seen it prominently listed in charity drives, meetings of local business leaders, and civic betterment associations.
“There is that angle,” said Harsh. “And don’t think Morton didn’t know all about it. She’s been digging inside information about my organization for a week. No matter what else can be said about the woman, she did have a faculty for ferreting out facts.
“But here is the angle that made me threaten to kill her, Shayne,” he went on in an even, controlled voice. “I have a wife and two lovely daughters. Viola will graduate from finishing-school this year. Mary is only fourteen. None of them have the faintest inkling of this thing. My wife is a wonderful woman and I can depend on her to stand by me at all cost. But how can you make children understand-?” His voice broke, and he hastily put the cigar between his teeth and took a deep drag on it before resuming:
“I frankly confess I’m pleading with you-just as I pleaded with Miss Morton. Haven’t I made restitution for that one youthful mistake? Must everything I’ve laboriously built up for years be swept away?
“I asked Miss Morton those same questions a week ago-as soon as I learned she had dug up that old story and planned to expose me in one of her syndicated articles. She had the unmitigated gall to lecture me about her sacred duty as a citizen and the ethics of her profession. My God! I was fool enough to think her protestations were sincere. I argued with her on the basis of decency and humanitarianism, pointed out that nothing would be gained by digging up that old charge now, and that many people would be irremediably hurt. And like a fool I thought I had made some headway. She promised to think it over seriously and I believed her. And all the time she must have been wondering how much she could shake me down for.” He spoke with rising anger and without the slightest physical gesture. When he stopped talking his square jaw appeared to be set in defiant anger, but Shayne decided it was made that way, for he smoked in a completely relaxed manner.
Impatient to get on with Harsh’s story, Shayne asked, “How did you first learn Miss Morton was planning to publish the story?”
“Carl Garvin told me. Carl manages the local office of her syndicate and she asked him to dig up certain information about me here, not realizing, of course, that he would come to me with it at once.”
“Is Garvin a good friend of yours?”
“He’s engaged to marry Viola, my eldest daughter. I must say Carl has acted splendidly throughout. He first did his best to dissuade her from her plan. When she wouldn’t be dissuaded he came to me with sympathy and understanding. Not many young men would stand by after learning that his future father-in-law has an old murder indictment hanging over his head.”
“When did you realize Miss Morton had no intention of killing the story?”
“Yesterday. When I received her demand for money. I keep forgetting you don’t know that part. She couldn’t have been very proud of it, and that’s why she called on a private detective for protection instead of the police.
“It was a very polite blackmail letter,” Harsh continued bitterly. “Cleverly composed. I doubt whether I could legally prove attempted extortion from the wording of it. She sent me a carbon copy of the story, and explained she was holding the original while she made up her mind whether to publish it or not. She pointed out that such a sensational story would create wide interest and add to her stature as a crime reporter as well as bring a large sum of money. In view of this loss to her she suggested I make the noble gesture of paying her twenty-five thousand dollars. The implications were veiled, but it was a definite threat to publish the story and ruin me if I didn’t come
