The Uncomplaining Corpses (18 page)

The knocking came again, amplified by a gruff order: “Open up in there.”

He got to his feet and went to the door. He turned the key and the knob, stepped back in simulated astonishment when he saw Will Gentry and Peter Painter in the corridor, accompanied by a squad of policemen.

Shayne exclaimed, “What the hell?” with his jaw dropping slackly, then seemed to regain control of
himself
and stepped aside. “This is a hell of a time to come visiting.”

Chapter Eighteen:
SEIZURE AND SEARCH

GENTRY STRODE HEAVILY PAST SHAYNE and sat down on the edge of the bed, without looking at the detective.

Painter strutted in, whirled on Shayne angrily. The Miami Beach chief didn’t look his usual dapper self. There was an ugly bruise on the side of his jaw where Shayne’s fist had connected, and he appeared nervous and unstrung. Words tumbled from him in a staccato flood:

“It wasn’t smart to knock me out, Shayne. Not by a damn sight. You can’t turn mad dog and not be treated like one. Didn’t you know you’d be tracked down with no chance to escape? Do you think you can flout every law in the land without paying for it?”

Shayne closed the door.

“I’ve done all right up to now,” he rumbled. “I’m sorry I hit you—so easy. I should have broken your neck while I was about it.” His gaze went past the angry little man to Will Gentry. “How’d you find me here?”

“Painter gets the credit. It was dumb of you to send that note, Mike. He’s had a man planted there all evening hoping you’d do something like that.” Gentry paused, eying Shayne steadily. “Didn’t you know we had picked Phyllis up?”

Shayne said, “How would I know?”

“A hell of a mess you’ve got her into,” Painter proclaimed. “If you were half a man you’d keep your women in the clear.”

Shayne didn’t look at him. He stood near the door with heavy shoulders hunched forward as though they bore a heavy burden. He stared hard at Gentry and asked, “What did Phyllis say about the Meldrum murder?”

Gentry glanced at Painter and said, “Sit down, Pete, and take it easy. You’ve got Shayne where you want him and he’s not going to slug you again. I’m going to find out some things before we leave this room.”

Painter backed toward a straight chair and perched on the very edge of it. “The only way you’ll get the truth out of him is with a leaded hose,” he snapped. “Give me thirty minutes with him and—”

“No.”
Gentry was
unruffled. “You’re still on my side of the bay, Painter. We’ll go at this my way over here. And I’ve got a hunch you’re going to drop the accessory to murder charge against Shayne before we get through. Eh, Mike?”

Shayne said, “I don’t know, Will,” in a voice that stubbornly refused to respond to friendly overtures. He sat down on the only other chair in the room.

“You’ll have to prove it to me,” Painter crackled. “Joe Darnell is still a murderer from where I sit. And if you do prove differently, there’s still a charge of assault with intent to kill an officer of the law against this ape.”

Shayne grinned. “No jury would ever believe that I meant to kill you and didn’t.”

“We’ll go into that later,” Gentry said sharply. “Right now I’m anxious to hear what Shayne has done on the
Thrip
case.”

Shayne leaned back easily. “I’m not ready to give out yet, Will.”

“The hell you’re not!” Muscles knotted in Gentry’s pudgy cheeks. He struggled for control,
then
growled, “Maybe you think Phyllis isn’t on the spot. You’d better get that idea out of your head. Unless we turn up a motive for
Renslow
to kill Meldrum, Phyllis is headed for the chair.”

Shayne was apparently unmoved, “Maybe it’ll cure her of helping to detect,” Shayne said ironically. “Besides, Phyllis is old enough to take care of herself.”

“Damn it, Mike!”
Gentry leaned forward and pounded his right fist into his open palm. “This is no time for one of your trick plays. Forget that
Renslow
will pay plenty for suppression of the evidence you’ve got against him. I know you’re tough and mercenary, but you’re not that tough.”

“So you’ve changed your mind from a while ago?”

“You know I didn’t mean it then. I was just—well, you forced me to say it.”

“Why fool with him?” Painter broke in. “I don’t believe he’s got any evidence. I don’t think there
is
any evidence. He’s been trying to stay out of jail to plant some—that’s all.”

Neither Gentry nor Shayne appeared to hear Painter. Shayne was looking steadily at Gentry. “What makes you think I can supply a motive for
Renslow
?”

“Because of what you first said when you knew Phyllis was in it up to her neck—before you had time to wonder how many dollars you might make out of
Renslow
. And I’ve done some checking at the Tally-Ho too.”

“That so?
What did you find out?”

“A lot,” Gentry shot back. “First, that
Renslow
didn’t leave at eleven-thirty-eight as you said. His parking-ticket was stamped out at eleven-forty-four. The riot call came in at eleven-fifty. That seems to back up his story that he got there after it happened—which doesn’t help Phyllis any.”

“Clocks differ,” Shayne snorted. “Besides, I can drive it in five minutes.”

“I know. But was
Renslow
under enough pressure to hit that speed? Not if he was just rolling over to see his sweetie as he claims.”

“I see.” Shayne’s eyes were narrowed and thoughtful. “What else did you find out?” he asked abruptly.

“I’ve got the boy who delivered a note to
Renslow
at your table. I’ve got a waitress who saw him go white and tear it up—and who saw you piece it together after
Renslow
rushed out—and who saw you rush out as soon as you put the pieces together. I’ve got Mona Tabor, who swears
Renslow
said he was being framed and wouldn’t stand for it. Where are those pieces of that note?”

Shayne spread out his hands blandly. “I haven’t admitted the existence of any note.”

“What did it say?” Gentry’s voice was husky. He was leaning far forward, searching Shayne’s face with worried eyes. “You’ve got to tell us, Mike. You’ll have to produce it eventually to clear Phyllis. You can’t hold it over
Renslow’s
head for a blackmail weapon.”

“Wait a minute,” Shayne said. “What is your case against Phyllis? Have you traced the pistol?”

“Yes.
To Joe Darnell’s moll.
She claims you took it off her in your apartment today, and Phyllis admitted taking it with her when she went to see Meldrum.”

Shayne nodded. “I was afraid she wouldn’t think fast enough.” His voice and face were placid. “What else did Phyllis have to say?”

“It isn’t very good,” Gentry warned him. “She went to his hotel to worm information out of him to help you on the
Thrip
case. She admits cuddling up to him and spending the afternoon banging around drinking joints, keeping him hot and bothered by intimating that—ahem—there would be more coming later. She went to the Tabor apartment with him at eleven and he was pretty tight. He seems to have got wise that she was giving him the runaround and he tried to lay her by force. She claims she threatened him with the .25 and he went into the living-room and shut the door and she stayed in the bedroom. She says she heard someone come and heard Meldrum talking to him. She said there was a hellish argument and then perfect silence.

“When she got up enough nerve she eased out into the living-room and ran into
Renslow
standing over Meldrum. She says she was scared half to death and when
Renslow
got the gun away from her she ran out of the room and down the back stairs. That’s her story and it’s pretty damn thin unless we can produce some motive for
Renslow
to have killed Meldrum. A jury will think Phyllis had a hell of a good motive for killing him.”

“She did,” said Shayne unruffled. “They won’t convict a woman in Florida for defending her virtue. What are you worried about?”

Gentry’s face was darkly red and he stared at Shayne with disbelieving eyes. His whole attitude was one of patience held in check with an effort. “I don’t believe you, Mike. You can’t sit there and claim you don’t mind letting your wife be dragged into court to tell such a story—that she teased him and led him on—and then killed the poor devil because he tried to hold her to her promises—at least what he considered promises. Don’t tell me you could do
that.”

“She knew the kind of guy she was marrying,” Shayne grunted.

“No, she didn’t, Mike,” Gentry said soberly, almost sorrowfully. “That kid thinks you’re some sort of god. You can’t let her down, Mike; it would break her heart. She’s just a kid. She doesn’t know there are men who think more of money than of their wives’ honor.”

Shayne’s lean face was a mask of cynicism. “After it’s all over she could buy herself lots of diamonds with a million dollars.”

There was a long silence inside the stuffy little hotel room. Gentry drew back, baffled and angry. He got a cigar out of his vest pocket and managed to get it lighted after three shaky tries.

Painter appeared to have forgotten his personal grievance in the face of Gentry’s grilling of Shayne and the turn which events were taking, a turn which indicated clearly that Gentry wasn’t learning anything about Shayne’s character which he, Painter, hadn’t known for a long time.

Finally, Will Gentry burst out, “I’m not going to let you do it, Mike. I won’t let you ruin everything with your damn stubbornness. The note
Renslow
received at the Tally-Ho must have implicated him in the
Thrip
murder. He had motive enough and he admits he hated his sister, who let him stay in the pen. His alibi for last night is plenty shaky. From the way he rushed to the Terrace Apartments, the note must have threatened him with exposure.”

Shayne shook his head. “That’s just guessing, Will, and so far as hatred goes, don’t forget that
Thrip
and Meldrum and Dorothy
Thrip
and that mewling
Thrip
boy hated her too.”

Gentry snapped, “Don’t try throwing me off the main track, Mike. We’re talking about
Renslow
. What he did fits the facts. It has to be that way.” He paused, thinking hard, then went on: “In holding out the evidence on
Renslow
, do you realize you’re not only letting Phyllis down but you’re also passing up a chance to exonerate Joe Darnell and yourself? What good will it
do
you to hold something over
Renslow’s
head while you’re lying in jail serving a term as accessory to murder?”

Shayne allowed himself a thin smile. “If your theory was correct, couldn’t you see it as a lever over our friend Painter’s head also? If I was good enough to withhold evidence implicating another man in the
Thrip
killing, don’t you think Painter would be grateful enough to quash the charges against me?”

“I don’t see why he should,” Gentry said hotly. “He’s a sworn officer of the law. He would be as guilty as you if he conspired with you to hide evidence in the case.”

“What would he care if the newspapers lauded him for solving a case at the first stroke?”

Painter bristled and ran a small hand over his mottled face. He started to speak, but Gentry bellowed, “Peter Painter is an officer of the law and—”

“You’re getting mighty ethical all at once,” Shayne kidded the Miami chief. “Don’t forget that Darnell is awfully dead already. And think of the spot our
Petie
would be in if he was forced to retract everything and admit that Darnell wasn’t guilty? After shooting off his mouth to the papers—wiring the governor—why, it would make our
Petie
the laughingstock of the state. You wouldn’t want that to happen, Will.” Shayne shook his head chidingly.

Listening to this byplay, Painter’s face flushed. Where Shayne had hit him was an angry purple. “I don’t need any help from you, Shayne. You don’t need to cover up for me.”

“You’ve taken help from me before,” Shayne growled out of the side of his mouth, “and been damn glad to get it.”

He still held Gentry’s gaze with a look of mockery. “No. It’s really out of your hands, Will. The less you know about the setup the better. Why don’t you let Painter and me thrash this thing out together?”

“Leave you two to cover up a murder and let your wife take the rap for it?” Gentry demanded, outraged.

“But I pointed out to you that
Phyl
isn’t in any real danger. Listen, Will, if your wife tried to meddle into your business, wouldn’t you try to give her a dose to cure her for all time? No jury would convict Phyllis,” he ended casually.

“But it would drag her name through the mud. Leave the stigma of guilt on her.”

“A million dollars can overcome a hell of a lot of stigmas,” Shayne told him cheerfully.

“No, Mike,” Gentry announced savagely, “I’m not going to let you do it. You’ve got that note some place. You wouldn’t destroy it because it’ll be worth plenty to you after
Renslow
is released and gets his hands on that dough. I’m not going away from here without it.”

“What makes you think it’s here?” Shayne parried.

“Because you haven’t had time to ditch it, even if you intended to.
And you didn’t think we were going to find you here registered under an assumed name. Sending that note to Phyllis was one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done.”

“
Yeh
.
It wasn’t smart,” Shayne conceded wryly. “But you’re wrong about that note. I threw the pieces away after I put enough together to get the gist of it”

“I don’t believe you,” Gentry growled.

The smile was driven from Shayne’s lips by a hard mask of anger that held a hint of desperation. He stood up slowly. “Calling me a liar is getting to be a habit around here.”

“It’s your own fault, Mike.” Gentry lumbered to his feet and faced Shayne. His lips carefully maneuvered a soggy cigar butt from left to right while he sucked it dry and swallowed with relish. “Are you going to hand over that note?”