“About Frank?” Barbara went to the phone as though sleepwalking. “He’s dead. Brad killed him before he went to Kitty’s. I know he did.”
“Talk to him,” Eda Lou said patiently. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
Barbara took the phone. “Is Frank all right? — But where are you? I’m coming into Miami later. I can meet you. Yes, of course, if you’re in Marathon you might as well drive over, but what’s it about? — All right, I’ll make some coffee. But this better be important!”
She hung up and whirled on Eda Lou. “He has something to show me and he won’t talk about it on the phone.”
Eda Lou’s eyes narrowed against the smoke from her cigarette. “If it’s bad, we can’t guess it away. He’ll be here soon enough.”
“How about their divorce? Did that go through or are they still-”
She left the room. Eda Lou followed, taking the martini pitcher and the glasses.
Shayne changed position, easing the pull on his injured leg. The sky was beginning to brighten in the east. The tangled undergrowth all around the big tree seemed less formidable than when he had fought his way through it in pitch darkness. He rubbed his ears and replaced one earphone. After finishing his cigarette he added it to the burned out butts in the peanut can and lit another.
Then the women came back into the living room.
Eda Lou was still wearing her negligee but Barbara had changed into pink slacks and a blouse. She had worked on her face and hair. Shayne checked her appearance through the binoculars. She looked fresh and glowing, and Shayne wondered, not for the first time, at the resilience of women.
“I ought to be worrying,” she said brightly, “but I’m not. I’ve decided how to handle Frank. I’ll bring it out in the open. Was he shooting at me, or wasn’t he? Naturally he thought I’d just send back his ring on some pretext or another. He’s in for a surprise.”
“Baby,” Eda Lou said admiringly, taking bottles to the sideboard, “I like to listen to the way your mind works. We have to do something about this broken glass, unless we want Hank to think we sit around shooting out light bulbs.”
“I’ll get the vacuum cleaner.”
Barbara left the room. Alone, Eda Lou picked up a fragment of one of the frosted bowls. Her eyebrows knotted.
“Goddamn it to hell!” she said in a fierce undertone, and hurled the piece across the room. It shattered against the far wall. Sighing, she poured herself a slug of straight gin and tossed it off.
“And what a slob I’m turning out to be,” she said.
Her face brightened as Barbara came back with the vacuum cleaner.
Barbara said, “What do you think about my Shanahan strategy? Aren’t you going to give me the benefit of your long experience?”
“None of the men I’ve known ever took a shot at me with a carbine. They knew I’d shoot back.”
“Frank doesn’t dislike me. He just doesn’t like the idea of marriage. Heavens, people get used to it.”
She turned on the vacuum cleaner. Shayne saw their lips move, but the roar from the machine drowned out their words.
Barbara was in midsentence when she turned it off. “-with Kitty. Frank said to leave it to him. He knows a way he can make her sign, if she still says no.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Something to do with Uncle Ev, something sordid, no doubt. Blackmail usually is.”
Eda Lou was frowning. “Did Frank say that about Ev, or is it just a guess?”
“He implied it. Sweetie, don’t give me a third degree, all right?”
“There’s the car. We’ll talk about it later. I’ll bring in the coffee and vamoose. Just one thing about Hank, baby. He’s as crooked as a hairpin.”
“Crookeder. I know that. I can’t abide him, so will you worry about something else?”
“Don’t answer any questions. If he starts to give you a hard time, yell. I’ve got the. 25. I’ll come a- running.”
In the tree house, Shayne freed one ear from the earphones and heard the sound of a car on the clamshell driveway.
chapter 13
Hank Sims was at the wheel of a promoter’s car, a white Chevrolet convertible with white-walled tires and red leather upholstery. The top was down. It passed out of sight for a moment and stopped in front of the house.
Barbara waited in the living room, checking her hair and makeup, while Eda Lou went to the door to let him in. He sauntered into binocular-range, hands in the back pockets of his tight Levis. He was a burly young man in a full black beard.
“Still wearing that awful disguise, I see,” Barbara observed. “No wonder nobody wants to give you a full time job.”
Sims slouched into the room. “I’m not looking for jobs. I’m self-employed.”
“And it must pay very well,” Barbara said cheerfully. “I see you’re driving a new car.”
“I’ll get some coffee,” Eda Lou said disapprovingly.
The moment the housekeeper was out of the room Sims’s hands came out of his pockets. He took Barbara in his arms and kissed her hard. At first she tried to twist away. That lasted only an instant. Then her arms came up and the embrace became deep and mutual.
He broke off abruptly. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing too exciting,” she said shakily. “Damn you, anyway. After Kitty walked out I thought you might at least give me a ring once in a while.”
“After who walked out? I walked out, for cause, and that’s how it’s going to be in the action. Goddamn it, when money’s going around the table I want my share.” He put his hand on her breast. “I wanted to call you. I almost did a couple of times but things were too involved.”
He dropped his hand as Eda Lou came in with a tray.
“Coffee.”
Giving Sims a narrow look, she put down the tray and went out.
“Somehow,” he said, looking after her, “I get the feeling that somebody around here doesn’t like me. She’s got colored blood, do you know that? There’s a thing about the half-moons on the fingernails-you can always tell. How you two can be so palsy-I’d go out of my skull.”
“Eda Lou is a very old and very good friend.”
“Yeah. You didn’t put on a bra, I notice. That was foresighted.”
“I hardly ever wear one down here.” She moved a chair to the low table. Leaning forward over the tray, she poured the coffee. “I forget about you. Cream and sugar?”
Sims picked the cognac bottle off the sideboard. “Stick some of this in it.”
“Not a bad suggestion. I believe I’ll join you.”
She poured cognac into both their cups and passed one to him. He watched her for a moment and said abruptly, “Are you really bucking for judge’s wife?”
“That’s one way to put it. He’s another old, dear friend.”
“Christ! How far along is it?”
“Quite far. His work keeps him busy. We’ll be married after court recesses in June.”
“I know how busy he is,” Sims commented. “On the go every minute. Babs, I think about you a lot, especially lately.”
“I know precisely how much you think about me.” She made a circle of her thumb and forefinger. “Not at all. I don’t blame you. Nobody gives you foundation grants. You have to think about yourself, and that’s a big subject.”
