Even the three lawyers had settled back to listen. Shayne smiled at Lib and went on.
“The hotel deal was still a bit edgy, because if the casino prospects were as good as they looked after Kendrick’s statement, why would Sam want to sell? He hadn’t signed the papers and Boots hadn’t handed over the check, but all the legal work had been done on it. So the con went into the third act. Sam told Boots he’d changed his mind-the deal was off. Boots went for it like a hungry trout. He kidnapped Sam, snatched him out of his motel without even giving him time to put on his socks. I almost managed to break that up, but Sam explained to me that he didn’t want to be rescued. I can imagine the dialogue after I left, straight out of network TV. Boots: ‘Sign these papers.’ Sam: ‘I won’t.’ Boots: ‘You will, by God, or you’ll end up at the bottom of a swamp.’ Sam: ‘All right, you talked me into it, where’s a pen?’”
Gregory’s fingers clenched and unclenched. The sunny look on Sam’s face told him that Shayne’s version was correct.
“The only trouble,” Shayne said, “was that the con was so good it fooled everybody, including Al Luccio, off in the Bahamas. The thought of Miami Beach competition was keeping him awake nights. He steamed in and hired Senator Maslow to set up a committee against the bill, and that explains what I’m doing here. You won, Al. Of course you would have won staying home, but never mind that. Has Al explained to you,” he said to Luccio’s lawyer, “that he’s sure to be rich some day, but right now he’s a little short? Obviously he couldn’t compete with a grease fund of over half a million dollars, so last night, when things began to look really bad, he decided to try muscle. He even threatened Judge Kendrick, by bombing his car and shooting his favorite deputy sheriff.”
“Is that a formal charge?” the lawyer said.
“We haven’t decided yet. Boots Gregory was somebody else who should have stayed home, but it was too important to him, too much was at stake-his whole future career. He tried twice to kidnap me. Maybe we won’t bother about that, Counsellor, if we can get him for anything bigger.”
“I didn’t kill the guy,” Boots said sullenly. “He was dead when I-”
This time the lawyer let out a real cry, his hands flying.
“I’m not talking about Grover,” Shayne said gently. “I’m talking about Senator Sheldon Maslow.”
Hearing that, the lawyer looked less agitated. “The cause of death there, as I understand it-”
“In a moment, Counsellor. I admit it’s a tough one because the body has already been cremated. More background-there’s no longer any doubt that Maslow was running a blackmail operation.” He took out the envelope file which Gregory had been trying to burn. “This came out of his safe. We’ve looked through it, and it all makes interesting reading. I’ve already said that Al Luccio is in a cash bind, so how did he hire Maslow? He offered to pay in gambling plaques, redeemable in currency at Al’s casino at some specified time. But Maslow wanted more than that, and Al had to give him more.”
Beginning to smile, Shayne drew an arrest-sheet out of the envelope.
“I almost missed this, because of course Boots changed his name after it happened. The police jurisdiction is St. Albans, and that gave it away. He told me he’d never been arrested. I considered that statement incredible, and sure enough-”
“Shayne-” Boots said thickly.
“I know. You were only seventeen at the time, and it hardly seems fair. But you shouldn’t have killed Maslow. That was your real mistake.”
Looking at the sheet, he snorted with laughter. “In a way it isn’t too funny. A convict who turned in a tip on this to the Kendrick committee was murdered in prison. Here, Anne. You’ll be interested.”
Gregory bounded forward and snatched at the sheet, but the heavy hand of a state trooper forced him back in his chair. Anne began to read, suspiciously at first. After a moment she laughed loudly.
“Boots, how odd. Two women and a chicken! One would have said, anatomically impossible. How did you work it, actually?”
Gregory slumped in his chair, mumbling. She passed the sheet to Gregory’s lawyer.
“Blackmail’s usually based on something serious,” Shayne said, “and this is so trivial it’s ridiculous. The St. Albans judge probably laughed like hell when he suspended the sentence. In some lines of work it wouldn’t matter, but Boots Gregory has to come on very tough. He’s been hoping to take over Sam Rapp’s role as the father-figure in Miami, and if this sheet got copied and passed around he couldn’t even hang on in St. Pete, let alone move. And Maslow knew the value of such things. The price would be high. High enough so Boots couldn’t afford to pay it and have enough left to buy Sam’s hotel. So Maslow had to be murdered, which is the classic way for a blackmailer to die.” He was speaking louder, but he was having difficulty making himself heard over the noise and raucous laughter.
CHAPTER 17
He gave up and finished his coffee. More time passed before he was able to resume.
“But it had to happen soon,” he said, “because Maslow was pressing him for money. It wasn’t simple. As far as the public knew, Maslow was a brave and disinterested crusader against crime, the leader of the good- government forces, and to kill him in gangland fashion would also kill the bill. The trick was to do it in a way that would make him look like a phoney and a hypocrite.”
Several people were trying to break in. Shayne told the state attorney that he wanted to question the medical examiner, and a cop was sent out to the lobby to bring him in. The doctor who entered, a tall, thin, nearly chinless man, was clearly unraveling fast.
He appealed to the state attorney. “You have to issue a statement. The media people won’t leave me alone. One of them came right out and in so many words accused me of taking a bribe to falsify-”
Shayne interrupted. “After reflection, you don’t want to change your findings on the cause of Maslow’s death?”
“I certainly do not. Asphyxia. Enough alcohol in the bloodstream to induce unconsciousness. Absolutely beyond question. Confirmed by Doctor Schwartz. I’ve occupied this office for thirteen years. There’s never been the slightest hint of any irregularity-”
“I believe you,” Shayne said. “Were there any burns on the body when you examined it?”
“None. The cause of death was as I’ve stated it. Smoke inhalation.”
“I disagree with you there, Doctor. He was smothered while he was unconscious.”
The doctor sat down and loosened his neck inside his collar. “Smothered. Unconscious. Are you serious?”
“It’s a theory. I’m going to ask you again about burns. Wasn’t there in fact a small burned spot on the thigh, circular, about the diameter of a cigarette?”
The doctor sniffed at the question before deciding to answer. “He dropped a burning cigarette in his lap while he was drunk. It had nothing to do with his death.”
“He not only didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke. Was the burn at a spot which a trained nurse might pick for an injection?”
Gregory’s lawyer sat forward. “See here, Shayne-”
“Have you been retained as counsel for Miss Braithwaite?”
“I can take care of myself!” she cried. “What do you think I’m going to do, admit I gave him a shot of some fancy poison?”
“You gave him an injection of alcohol, Anne,” Shayne said. “Vodka would do it. You confiscated his camera, but he’d taken the precaution of bringing two, and luckily for us he’d already switched. We have a picture of you enjoying reverse intercourse with a Republican senator-enjoying is probably the wrong word. Your handbag is open. There’s a hypodermic syringe in it.”
She was beginning to look older, and as Shayne had predicted, she was already less good-looking.
He continued, “Maslow wasn’t the type to get drunk at a time like that. He was too greedy and ambitious. There was only one way you could get alcohol inside him, and that was with a needle. Boots was outside in the woods, in case you needed him. You were high on pot. You knew Maslow was there somewhere, because you’d made sure he knew about the party by telling a private detective named Teddy Sparrow. The blackmail possibilities were too good, and Maslow wasn’t able to resist. You found him in a closet. The electricity was off. At some point
