“No statement, Petey. Is that all?”
“It is by no means all. I’ll remind you that Geary was expecting something to happen to him. Remember what he told the nurse? That if he met with further violence she should go to the police and reveal that it was Mike Shayne who beat him up? Naturally I did some checking this morning, and I guess you really were in San Francisco the night it happened. I want to nail that down, because it doesn’t take long to fly from California to Florida nowadays, and where Mike Shayne is concerned, I don’t just check, I double-check. But let’s say it stands up. That doesn’t rule out the possibility that you hired somebody to drive the second car. I’ll keep picking away at this, I warn you. That’s my technique.”
And so it went. Shayne managed to remain patient, waiting for Painter to wear himself out.
“You’ve got a protective coating,” Painter said at one point. “You think you can make your own rules, and go your own way, and you’ll never be called to account. I’ve talked to dozens of people, and they all keep coming back to the same thing-Mike Shayne, what dirty tricks do you suppose he did for that eighty thousand dollars? And new things keep cropping up. Dee Wynn now. That was skillfully done, and this time you don’t have the excuse that you were in San Francisco.”
“You wouldn’t know Wynn’s name if I hadn’t told Barnes.”
“You didn’t tell him a hell of a lot, did you? You knew we’d find out you had an ambulance ride together, and it’s always good to get your version in first. He was rambling, you couldn’t pin him down to anything. Sure. I don’t mind admitting, some of your actions still don’t seem to make a hell of a lot of sense, but you can be counted on- you never do things the simple and easy way.”
“What’s your theory, Petey? I really would like to know.”
“I don’t believe in theorizing. You know that about me. I go by what I see with these eyes.” He pointed to them. “Some kind of battle is going on here. Three casualties so far, if you count Geary. Tough it out, Shayne. You against the world. Keep it up, boy, and that casualty list won’t stop at three. But as long as you refuse to tell me anything, how can I help you?”
He gave his mustache its quick double flick. “I have information that a new three-man group is being recruited. The target? Mike Shayne, again. Fifteen hundred apiece is available, if they bring their own gun.” He had been saving this; he watched Shayne closely to see how he would take it. “But you’re Mike Shayne, I forgot. They can’t intimidate you.”
“Who’s doing the recruiting?”
“I don’t know that. Just that the word is around, and I thought, in fairness, I ought to pass it along. We’ve locked horns in the past, and there hasn’t been much good feeling on either side. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t distress me considerably to hear you’d been shot by hired killers. I’ll be glad to provide you with protection. A two- car escort, around the clock. But naturally I want something in return. Start with the eighty thousand from Max Geary.”
“No bodyguard, please, Petey. They can be dangerous. Who’s your source?”
“Confidential. I protect my informants. They know that. It’s essential to the relationship.”
“Soupy Simpson?”
“Simpson?” Painter said, a little too innocently. “Didn’t we have to bust him for possession? I think he’s in Atlanta.”
“No, he’s back. Thanks for the warning. Can I go now?”
“Who’s stopping you? If you refuse my offer of a bodyguard, all I can do is advise you officially to step carefully.”
Following this advice, Shayne took more than his usual precautions leaving the hospital grounds, but that was to make sure none of Painter’s men were behind him. Even for seasoned professionals, it is never easy to kill somebody who knows they are looking for him. A surprisingly high percentage of professional murder contracts are never paid off. The price is high not because of the danger-few professional killers are ever apprehended-but because of the frustration and the waiting time.
Shayne went onto the East-West Expressway at Twelfth Avenue and kept changing lanes, varying his speed and watching the mirror. Leaving the expressway at the airport exit, he found an inconspicuous public phone. Before getting out of the car, he tapped a recessed spring on the inside door panel, and a. 38 Smith and Wesson dropped into his hand. He still had the. 45, but the Smith and Wesson was a handier weapon. He concealed it in his sling.
He punched a handful of dimes out of the change dispenser hanging from his dashboard, took them to the booth and began hunting for Simpson, a heroin user who made a dangerous living fencing stolen goods and occasionally selling out one of his thieves to the police. Shayne located him at a bowling alley in southwest Miami.
“Mike Shayne? You’re hot, baby. You got your name on a bad list.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I hear they’re trying to sell another contract on you. But after last night it ain’t moving so fast.”
“Where’s the money coming from?”
“All I know, from out of town, but I’ll keep listening. Where can I reach you, and how much is it worth?”
“Don’t just listen,” Shayne said. “Ask. Say you’ve got a shooter you take a percentage on, and you don’t want to recommend it to him unless you know what you’re getting him into.”
There was a moment’s silence. “Man, if it was anybody else I’d laugh, but I think I like it from you. I do know a guy. He’s so stupid he never heard of Mike Shayne. But it’s kind of risky to me personally, you know? You’ll have to come up with a good number.”
“One thousand.”
“Mike, I think,” Simpson said hesitantly, “I think we’re in business. You pay me, and the guy pays me. It could make a very nice middle. How much do I get up front?”
“Nothing. It’s an automatic fee if I live five days.”
Startled, Simpson laughed. “Nice. That way I won’t feel tempted. But I’ve got to live through those five days myself, so put a hundred in the mail? Then I’ll have something to fall back on.”
Shayne heard his car phone. He agreed to Simpson’s suggestion, and got back in time to catch the call. “Mike?” Rourke said. “Did Frieda get you?”
“I’ve been tied up with Painter. What happened?”
“Castle pulled out at about four o’clock. She got to the airport in time, but he went in a private plane. Lear jet, two-engine. Naturally he wouldn’t want to travel with ordinary tourists. I’m at International, but no private Lear has shown up here yet. There are too many possible airports.”
“I’m not ready for him, anyway. Is she coming back tonight?”
“Maybe. She’ll call again. She found out where Geary stayed when he was in Nassau. There was a girlfriend, apparently, which may be where the money went. Frieda’s going out to talk to her.”
“Do you have a phone number?” Shayne said quickly.
“No, she’ll call me. She said she knows she’s in enemy country. She’ll watch the rearview mirror. She wanted to know how things are going here, and I told her fine. Was that the right answer?”
Shayne was kneading the bridge of his nose. “People keep telling me things. Forget about Castle for now. He has to come to us.”
“I wish he’d come over in a smaller plane. Those Lears can carry a dozen people. All right, I’ll go back to the office and start calling airports.”
The Nash dog track was only a few blocks away. Bobby Nash was waiting in his office, and as soon as Shayne arrived he called in a burly, bearded young man named Dave.
“Dave’s our resident brain,” Nash said. “But I’m beginning to think I was too fast about saying yes, Mike. This could backfire, and damage the whole industry.”
“There’s a chance of that,” Shayne said. “Geary was crooked, Surfside was crooked, therefore it follows that all the other owners and all the other tracks are crooked. But too many people have money tied up in the business. You’re part of the tourist draw, and the tax take is enormous. We’re dealing with large matters here-murder, conspiracy, large-scale corruption. If we put on a good enough show, maybe including one or two deaths, I think we’ll see a big rush to put the lid back on and get back to normal.”
“Deaths,” Nash said thoughtfully.
“All you can do is hope.”
