do you know a New York gambler named Lou Johnson?”
“I don’t know any New York gamblers.”
“How early in the year did you get the United States contract?”
She felt for cigarettes, considering her answer while she took one out and Shayne lighted it for her.
“I don’t want to make your job any easier, Mike. Maybe you can provoke me into saying something, but I hope to be able to keep my mouth shut.”
“My guess would be early or mid-March,” Shayne said. “After you listened to my end of that Washington call from Forbes’s father, why did you head straight for the St. Albans and wait an hour or so for Ruth to show up? I think you probably wanted to give her money to get out of town.”
Forbes exclaimed, “Miss Morse, you and Ruthie know each other?”
Candida gathered her loose belongings and stuffed them in her bag. “This was a mistake, I see. I won’t wait for the Scotch. Goodnight, all.”
“No, stick around,” Shayne advised her. “There’s even a faint chance that you’re being taken here-a very faint chance. When did your mother die, Forbes?”
“April second.”
“The poker game was a week earlier. Candida was already sounding out Walter Langhorne on the subject of changing jobs. A blackmail operation was underway against Jose Despard. Which of these three gambits actually produced the T-239 folder I still don’t know. When did the two collectors come to see you, Forbes? I’d say about the twentieth. Suddenly, on April twenty-third, you no longer needed five G’s. You can’t really think anything as elaborate as this would be called off just because one of the principals was picked up in New York on another matter. There had to be a payoff. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”
Forbes nodded slowly. “I think I know what happened, Mike. I’ve tried not to think about it. I think my father quietly bought up those IOU’s. After that abortion thing, he made one of his announcements. From that moment on, I had to get out of trouble on my own two feet. But he knew what would happen if I didn’t pay that five thousand. I was in for a really bad beating, and something like that can easily get out of hand. He wanted to make me realize that life isn’t easy. He didn’t want me killed.”
The waiter brought their drinks and Shayne asked for a phone.
“You don’t want to comment on this yet, Candida?”
She drank without replying.
When the phone was plugged in, he dialed the long-distance combination and asked for Washington information.
Forbes sat forward. “Dad won’t like being asked about it, I can tell you that.”
“That’s too bad.”
He asked the operator for the number of the Hotel Mayflower and started his new drink while he waited. A moment or two later Hallam’s father was on the line.
“Shayne!” he exclaimed when he was told who was calling.
“Camilli decided not to arrest me,” Shayne said. “He’s putting in for retirement instead. Something’s come up that has to do with your son, Mr. Hallam.”
“Don’t tell me about it!” Hallam snapped. “You no longer have any legal right to ask members of my family or executives of my company any questions whatever on any subject.”
“That’s pretty sweeping,” Shayne said mildly. “Forbes is right here. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Put him on.”
Forbes took the phone, holding it as though it might go off in his hands. “Dad, do you remember those stupid IOU’s I was worrying about last spring? We want to find out if you-”
His father interrupted. The harsh rasp in his voice carried to Shayne without forming any recognizable words.
“But Dad,” Forbes said, “if you did buy them that would-”
His father broke in again, giving him no chance to say anything more. The electronic rasp continued for some time, concluding with an audible click. Forbes looked at the phone, puzzled.
“He said not to talk to you. He’s flying back. He says you’re after more money.”
“He offered me eight thousand to quit,” Shayne said. “I don’t think anybody else will top that. Now I have to ask you the yes-or-no question, Forbes. Did you sell the folder to Candida?”
“No.”
But there was no conviction in his voice, as though this detail was of no interest to him. After a long swallow of whiskey, he burst out, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to you! My God, we can’t just expect you to-”
“He doesn’t want you to incriminate yourself,” Shayne said. “When we check on it, I think we’ll find that Lou Johnson or somebody acting for Lou Johnson received the full five thousand, and if it didn’t come from your father, the assumption would be that it came from you. But there’s one other outside possibility-that there’s a third person involved, who really stole the folder and set up the poker game so you’d take the fall if it ever got that close.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“I think Candida would have been willing to go as high as thirty or forty thousand for that material. A five- thousand-buck payoff to Johnson would be cheap insurance.”
Forbes rattled the ice in his drink. He shook his head.
“Johnson was Ruthie’s friend. She knew he was staying in the hotel, and it was her idea to get in the game. In fact-”
“In fact what?” Shayne said when he stopped.
“It seems to me she suggested taking off the limit, and that’s when the trouble started. I’m not sure of that part, but if somebody introduced her to Johnson-hell, maybe she collected a small percentage, I’ve never been able to make out where her money comes from. But if somebody arranged that game to get my signature on some IOU’s, she knows who it was. We can find out in the morning.”
Shayne drained his glass and stood up. “We’d better ask her now. She may be many miles away in the morning.”
“She’s asleep.”
“Maybe not. She was pretty strung out when I saw her. The sleeping pills wouldn’t take hold right away. Coming, Candida?”
“Needless to say, for my own protection.”
Shayne overpaid the waiter and hurried the others to the elevator. He and Harry Hurlbut exchanged a look, and the elevator door slid shut. They rode up in unfriendly silence. On the twelfth floor, Forbes led them to Ruth’s room.
Shayne knocked. When there was no immediate response, he said, “Keep knocking. I’ll get a key.”
“I have one.”
Forbes unlocked the door. “Ruthie?” he called softly. He turned to Shayne. “I told you she’s asleep.”
“Maybe we can wake her up.”
Shayne turned on the ceiling light. This room was like most other hotel rooms in Miami Beach-a low ceiling, walls painted light green, furniture and fixtures modern, clean-lined and anonymous. But Ruth Di Palma was an exceptionally untidy guest. Her clothes were everywhere. Slacks and sweatshirt were crumpled in the middle of the carpet. Sandals and underclothing made a trail toward the bathroom. A damp footprint had been left on the carpet by a bare foot, beside a wet bathtowel. There was a glass of water and an open bottle of pills on the bedside table, with a spilled cigarette package, a sheaf of bills and other odds and ends from Ruth’s open bag.
Ruth herself was sleeping face down in the untidy bed, breathing hard. She was unclothed. Her midsection was covered by a corner of the sheet.
“We’re wasting our time,” Forbes said. “She never gets to sleep right away, but once she makes it-”
Shayne reached the bed in two strides. He touched the flesh at the corner of the girl’s mouth. Dropping to one knee, he felt for the wrist that was dangling over the side. For a moment he couldn’t find a pulse. Her breath caught and held, caught and held. He finally picked up a pulse-beat. It was faint and ragged.
He grabbed the phone, knocking her opened bag to the floor.
“Get a doctor up here in a hurry!” he said urgently when the switchboard answered.
