She said hello. Shayne heard the unmistakable voice of a professional operator.
“Michael Shayne?” Candida said, her eyebrows rising. “Right here.”
She handed Shayne the phone. After the operator checked his identity, a man’s voice said, “Hallam. I’ve been trying to locate you. Jose gave me this number.”
“I’d better call you back,” Shayne said. “Things have been happening.”
“So I understand. Yes, I’d appreciate a call. I’m at the Mayflower. Let me tell you why I’m calling first, and if you have any questions, you can ask them when you get back to me. I want you to suspend operations.”
Shayne said in a flat voice, “Are you sure that’s what you want, Mr. Hallam?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Hallam was clearly not used to being asked this question. “I’ve just conferred with the lawyer who’s representing us with the Patent Office, and the consensus is that we stand to lose more by legal action than we could possibly hope to gain.”
“I thought there was more to it than that.”
“You’re quite right,” his client said coldly. “Taking everything into account, balancing pros and cons, we’ve decided to cut our losses. Your fee, of course, will be paid in full.”
“You mean provided I lay off?”
There was a moment’s cautious silence. “I don’t know that I care for your tone, Shayne. I brought you in at a handsome retainer to perform certain services. These services are no longer required.”
Shayne held out his empty glass to Candida. “Get me another drink, baby. This is going to take a little time.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to miss anything. What’s he doing, firing you?”
“Trying to,” Shayne said. “I’m sometimes a hard man to fire.”
He hadn’t covered the mouthpiece. Hallam’s voice put in, “I assume you intended me to hear that. Are you talking to Miss Morse? The girl who gave the orders to have you beaten up last night, if my information is correct.”
“Well, she’s a damned good-looking girl,” Shayne said, grinning.
She acknowledged the compliment with a movement of the cigarette she had just lighted.
“Good-looking or not,” Hallam snapped, “I don’t consider it wise to discuss this in the hearing of a paid agent of United States Chemical. Call me back from another phone.”
“I will later. I don’t want to break this off. It’s picking up momentum.”
“And it’s obvious that you’ve been drinking. Very well, I’ll put it as simply as possible, to make sure you understand me. I’m resigning as your client. Conceivably there may be a change in management after the next board meeting. This decision may be reversed, but until then you are no longer in our employ. Do I make myself clear?”
“Clear enough,” Shayne said noncommittally. “When are you coming back?”
“Tomorrow. There’s nothing more I can do here. But I’d like a more definite statement of your intentions, Shayne. You have eight thousand dollars coming, I believe. Do we mail you the check or not?”
Shayne let him wait a minute.
“Better not,” he said softly and broke the connection.
“What was that all about?” Candida asked.
“You know as much about it as I do. Let’s take a look at that time sheet.”
“No, wait. I’m trying to think if it makes any difference to me that you no longer have a client.”
“That’s no problem. I can always find another. I’m thinking of what’s his name? — Perkins, of United States Chemical.”
She was frowning at him when the phone rang again. He offered it to her but she shook her head.
“It’s probably for you.”
Shayne picked it up and said hello. Jose Despard’s voice answered.
“Your line’s been busy. Does that mean the old man reached you?”
“Yeah, a minute ago. How did you talk him into calling me off?”
“What’s that?” Despard said warily.
“He cancelled my retainer. That’s his privilege. It doesn’t mean I automatically drop dead.”
Despard gave a low whistle. “Well, well. It wasn’t my idea. Now I’m trying to figure out where this leaves me.”
“You’re right where you were,” Shayne assured him, “except that I now have the negatives of those shots they took of you and Deedee.”
Shayne heard him swallow. “How much will you take for them?”
“They’re not for sale. I’m not in that business. What did you call him about, something involving his son?”
“Now how did you know that? Well, it’s narrowing down. You told me to sit down and think. I went to a bar-I can’t think at home. On my second brandy I remembered something about Forbes. He has certain beatnik proclivities, I don’t know if you know that. Dubious connections with civil-rights pickets and the like. There’s a girl. Needless to say, there’s always a girl. I don’t know her name, but I’ve dredged up something I’d completely forgotten about, that he needed money to pay for an abortion.”
“Last April?” Shayne said quickly.
“No, earlier. Around the turn of the year. He took me to lunch and asked me for a loan of eight hundred dollars. The girl wanted it done in Puerto Rico. I thought eight hundred was a bit much. I sympathized, I always feel sympathetic toward a fellow sinner, but to come up with eight hundred in a hurry I’d have to sell some bonds. To put it mildly, Mrs. Despard wouldn’t O.K. going into capital for an illegal operation for somebody no one in the family has ever met.”
“So you didn’t give him the money?”
“No. And there was another consideration. He’s an only child. That has a lot to do with the scrapes he got into while he was growing up.”
“What kind of scrapes?”
“Cars, girls, nothing too serious. His mother always took care of it, his father after she became sick. We finally decided he had to start toeing the line. I say ‘we’ because it was a family decision. My brother-in-law asked us to cooperate, and we agreed. From that point on, Forbes had to take responsibility for the things he did.” A note of embarrassment entered his voice. “I know you’re probably thinking I’m no person to talk, but I take my duties as a parent seriously. I have three fine kids. Getting good marks in school.”
“Did his father pay for the abortion?” Shayne said impatiently.
“I called him tonight to find out. He said no. But he may not want to admit it. There’s a pattern-he’s constantly telling the boy he’ll stake him this one last time, and then never again. I don’t suppose any of this means anything? It was just an idea. I mean, if she hit him for eight hundred in December, maybe it was only the beginning.”
While Despard talked, Shayne watched Candida repair her eye makeup at the mirror. She put down the little tools and picked up her lipstick.
“Where are you, Despard?” Shayne said. “I think we’ve got hold of something, finally.”
Despard gave him the name of the bar and agreed to wait.
“One more question,” Shayne said. “How long had you known Walter Langhorne?”
“All my life. My sisters were closer to him than I was, but we did the same things-picnics, dances. Now don’t double back on me, Shayne. Stick to Forbes. Walter Langhorne didn’t sell that report.”
“We’ll talk about it,” Shayne said wearily.
Candida looked across at him as he hung up. “You’re still working?”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his jaw.
“The Mike Shayne I’ve always heard about,” she said, “doesn’t make a move without being paid in advance.”
“I expect to be paid.”
She threw her lipstick in her bag. “I hate to think how close I came to telling you every last thing you wanted to know. I was so mixed up I felt like three different people. The truth is, we perform a valuable function. Big corporations like Despard have a huge and unfair advantage, with their great wealth, their control of the market. We’ve managed to help a few obscure companies to survive, Hal and I–I don’t think that’s necessarily so wicked.
