across.”
Shayne swore softly and shifted his position. “I had no idea she was that type of person,” he confessed.
“Take it from me, Shayne, the whole transaction has a practiced and professional ring. With twenty years of experience in digging up criminal records and having unlimited access to any records she wants all over the country, there’s no telling how many others she has blackmailed. It was probably one of her victims who drove her own shears into her throat,” he ended helplessly, “just as I threatened to do last night.”
“Do you mean you actually anticipated the method used by her murderer?” Shayne asked.
“I told her I would enjoy shoving the point of those fancy shears into her blackmailing heart,” he said savagely.
Shayne gave a sharp whistle and said dolefully, “If Miss Lally testifies she heard you use those words, you’ll really be on the spot. Give me your alibi for tonight.”
“I was out in my motor cruiser all day-alone. When I sobered up this morning I had a horrible hang-over and a nagging uneasiness that I’d made a fool of myself by going to Miss Morton last night. I couldn’t face anyone, not even my wife, so I slipped away early and drove down to a little fishing-lodge below Homestead. I stayed on the water all day and drove back just in time to keep a seven-o’clock dinner appointment with Carl at the Seven Seas. He drove home with me afterward and stayed until about nine o’clock.”
“Anybody to swear you were out in the boat or to testify when you drove in from Homestead?”
“Not a soul. I didn’t stop anywhere on the road, and there was no one else at the lodge.”
“So from the police viewpoint you may have driven in half an hour early after brooding all day, gone to the Tidehaven, and polished off Miss Morton before keeping your date at the Seven Seas with your future son-in- law.”
“That’s correct,” Harsh agreed steadily. “If she was killed before seven.” He drew in a long breath. “Was she?”
“We’re not sure,” Shayne told him. “There are certain indications that she was alive at seven-thirty. Other evidence points to six-thirty as the latest we can be sure of.”
“If you can fix the time as seven-thirty, Shayne,” he said impulsively, “and keep my name out of the papers- I’ll double my first offer.”
“I’ll have to talk to Miss Lally,” Shayne muttered. “And I need Carl Garvin’s confirmation of what you told me. Also his impression of Miss Morton. Is Garvin a heavy gambler?” he asked abruptly.
“Carl-a gambler?” Burton Harsh sounded genuinely surprised. “I’ve played some dollar-limit poker with him, but I have an idea that’s about the highest stakes he can afford. Why do you ask that?”
Shayne said, “It doesn’t matter.” Again he moved restlessly, shifted his position. “What I don’t understand is why you bothered to send Morton those foolish letters trying to drive her out of town. She already had the dope for her story, so what did you hope to gain?”
Harsh moved his solid body for the first time, jerking his torso tensely erect. “What are you talking about? What letters?”
“It was kid stuff, Harsh, to cut words out of advertisements and paste them on slips of paper. Not very smart, either. Don’t you know that paste and paper and even scissors marks can be scientifically traced and identified?”
“I haven’t the remotest idea what you mean,” Harsh protested vigorously, and for the first time since their telephone conversation Shayne detected fear and uncertainty in the financier’s voice.
“Sure you don’t know?”
“I give you my word of honor that I have not sent any communication whatsoever, written or pasted, to Sara Morton.” It was a flat statement of fact, but again there was a hint of doubt and of fear behind the words.
“Someone mailed her a threat every day for three consecutive days. The third one came today, setting tonight as the deadline for her to get out of Miami. Without the knowledge of your threat last night, the police are acting on the assumption that the threat was carried out.”
“Describe them to me-in detail,” Harsh insisted. He was greatly agitated, and there was little doubt in Shayne’s mind that this was the first he had heard of the threats.
“I’m handling that end of it for you,” Shayne reminded him. “Or will be as soon as you make a down payment on the ten grand. Say half now and the balance when it’s ended and your name has been kept out of it.”
“But suppose my name comes into it in spite of your efforts, Shayne?”
“You’ll be out that much.”
“It seems to me the entire sum should be payable only in the event you succeed.”
“I don’t do business that way. If you’re not prepared to lay half of it on the line right now, we’ll call the whole thing quits.”
“And you’ll go to the police with this information I’ve given you tonight?”
“Why not? I’ve got my own neck to think about. If I don’t get paid for sticking it out, why should I bother?”
Harsh frowned and puffed on his cigar for a moment, then said, “You understand I don’t carry that sort of money around with me. If you’ll take a check-”
“You may be in jail charged with Sara Morton’s murder before I could get a check certified tomorrow morning,” Shayne told him cheerfully.
“Then why am I paying you at all?” argued Harsh in an irritated tone.
“The next few hours are the important ones. The only way to keep you absolutely in the clear is for me to move fast and turn up the murderer before the cops force me to let them have Miss Lally. For that, you’re going to pay five grand on the line.”
“The banks are closed. I don’t see how you expect me to meet such a demand.”
“Nuts. You’re well enough known around town so there are a dozen night spots that will cash your check for a thousand or more. Get the cash to me at my hotel within an hour if you want to buy my co-operation. Turn it over to John, the night clerk, and have him put it in the safe.”
A concentrated frown between Harsh’s eyes was the only outward evidence of his tormented mind. “See here, Shayne, I trust you to keep quiet, but what about that Miss Lally? How do I know she hasn’t already talked-or will go to the police any minute.”
“You have my word for that,” said Shayne dryly.
“But how can you be sure? You believe you have her safely hidden from the police, but even while we’re sitting here she may be telling them all about me.”
Shayne thought for a moment, then proposed, “Let’s drive to the nearest public phone. I’ll call her and let you listen to what she says. If that doesn’t satisfy you, you’ll have to take your chances. And make up your mind fast,” he added grimly. “If I’m to earn the second half of your fee, I should be moving right now.”
“I seem to have little choice in the matter,” said the financier stiffly. He unlatched and opened the door.
“Practically none,” Shayne agreed, drumming his finger tips on the steering-wheel. “Follow along in your car and I’ll stop at the first joint with a public phone.”
He started the motor when Harsh got out; backed around, and drove slowly back to the Boulevard. He waited for Harsh’s headlights to come up behind him, then turned south for a block and a half to an all-night beer-and- hamburger dispensary.
Burton Harsh parked his car and followed Shayne inside and to the rear, where Shayne stepped inside a phone booth and closed the door. He dialed Lucy Hamilton’s number, opened the door, and motioned Harsh to crowd in beside him.
Lucy answered, and he said, “Hello, angel. Put Beatrice on, please.” He turned his head slightly and held the receiver so Harsh could listen with him.
“Miss Lally speaking,” the girl said.
“Shayne. Before you say anything else I want you to know another party is listening in. Please answer me honestly, but don’t volunteer any additional information. Do you understand that?”
“Of course,” said Miss Lally. She sounded prim and calm and sober.
“Have you talked to the police since you learned Miss Morton was dead?”
“No.”
“Have you mentioned Mr. Burton Harsh’s visit to Miss Morton’s hotel room last night to anyone?”
They both distinctly heard a gasp-of surprise or dismay-or shock. Then, after a brief silence, Miss Lally replied
