So Lush, So Deadly

by Brett Halliday

“He may think she’s his girl. That’s not what she told me.”

  Shayne opened the car door and put Petrocelli inside. Petrocelli touched his head.

  “The sons of bitches got my cap.”

  Shayne started the motor and took the next right. Another right brought them to Collins. He headed south.

  “I’ve had that cap a long time,” Petrocelli said. “I just about had the bastard broken in.”

  “Tough,” Shayne commented.

  “Now wait a minute,” Petrocelli said more strongly. “I don’t know who you are, or where the hell you think you’re going—”

  “I’m Mike Shayne, a private detective. I didn’t walk into that because I get any pleasure out of fighting six-and-a-half-foot drunks with broken beer bottles. I want to ask you why the De Rhams fired you, and I didn’t want him to rupture your kidneys first.”

  Petrocelli groaned. “That’s right, remind me.” He prodded his midsection. “He was kicking me, wasn’t he?”

  “Just with loafers,” Shayne said. “Do you want a drink?”

  “Man, I’m dying for a drink.”

  There was no convenient place to park in Miami Beach any more. Shayne pulled into a hotel parking lot, paying heavily to be allowed through the gates. The instant he cut his lights and the ignition Petrocelli started to get out.

  “They won’t let you in a bar with that much blood on you,” Shayne said. Switching on the dome light, he reached over and opened the little refrigerator built into the back of the front seat. “Is whiskey all right?”

  “Gin, if you’ve got it. Just on ice, and forget the vermouth.”

  Shayne broke out the ice cubes, dropped two in a glass and filled the glass with gin.

  “You don’t happen to have Beefeater?” Petrocelli said.

  “Hell, no. Do you want Gilbey’s, or don’t you?”

  Petrocelli put out his hand for the glass. Most of the gin was gone by the time Shayne had taken the top off a flask of brandy and filled it.

  “That’s better,” Petrocelli said, breathing out. “I liked the sound that sap made against that jerk’s head. What a surprise! I mean, the fox is O.K., but she’s definitely not the big thing in my life. And he didn’t say one word. Just walked up and tapped me on the shoulder and pow!”

  Shayne had left the dashboard lights on. He saw an apparently easy-going, self-satisfied man in his mid-thirties, less good looking than he once had been. There was a thickening around his jowls. The fight had sobered him, but the new gin seemed to be spreading rapidly.

  “Is it true that you made a pass at Mrs. De Rham?” Shayne said.

  Petrocelli had just taken a mouthful of cold gin. He sputtered some of it up.

  “Is that what they’re telling people?”

  “Words to that effect. Isn’t it true?”

  “It’s the pure exact opposite of true!” Petrocelli said emphatically. “It’s an absolute goddamn lie. If that’s the rap they’re trying to hang on me, I better start using the old apple. You skipped the bit about being careful what I say because you can use it against me. Everybody’s supposed to get that. And I’d like some more Gilbey’s if you don’t mind. I spilled part of it.”

  “As soon as we clear up a few points.”

  “Such as who are you working for?”

  “I had a call tonight from Mrs. De Rham’s attorney in New York City. She told him her captain got out of line while she was taking a sunbath and they had to fire him. Now he’s drinking too much and making threats.”

  “What crap!”

  “I haven’t checked with Mrs. De Rham yet. I went to the boat tonight and saw a man named Brady. She was asleep.”

  “She was passed out, you mean. The cocktail hour on that boat goes around the clock.”

  “What’s your side of the story, Petrocelli?”

  “I wasn’t even fired, if it comes to that.” He touched the side of his jaw and winced. “I keep finding new places that hurt. That cat could hit. Come on, Shayne, if you want me to cooperate, dole me out some more anesthetic.”

  Shayne reached for the bottle and filled his glass. “If you weren’t fired I take it you quit?”

  “I didn’t exactly quit either. You know what she wants you to do, Shayne. She wants you to run me out of town. That’s going to be the easiest job you ever had. Tell me what flight you want me to be on and I’ll be on it. I’ve already got the ticket. I think the tall guy in the bar was trying to tell me something, don’t you? If I get a little more warning next time I think I can take him, but I don’t know about him and his friends both. He’s off that big diesel yacht, the Rosebud, with a crew of five. And Sandy. With that hole in the front of her mouth, I mean where’s the incentive? She’s going to look like a zombie until she gets fixed.”

  “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”

  “In a minute, in a minute. Do me a favor? If Mrs. De Rham says I made any kind of a move, if she claims I took the initiative in any way, knock her teeth down her throat, will you, Shayne? You seem to be good at it. You know the story in the Bible? Joseph and what’s his-name’s wife? I’m telling it to you the way it was. Listen, if you want a word of advice from a veteran, wear a jock when you talk to her. Do I make any sense?”

  “All this happened with her husband aboard? That’s hard to believe.”

  “I didn’t believe it myself, Shayne. She took those sun-baths of hers on the forward deck, right in front of the wheelhouse, in a two-piece bathing suit the size of a couple of special delivery stamps. Sometimes she even untied the top, so except for one little strip across her can she was bare all the way down. And I was supposed to be keeping an eye on the compass needle.”

  “Who else was along, just her husband and Brady?”

  “That’s all. I don’t want you to think I’m bragging or anything, but it was one of those situations. Brady you saw. De Rham’s a nice enough guy, but he’s not exactly Marlon Brando, you know? One of those quirky beards. A peace-loving character, and she walked all over him. I never could figure where Brady fitted in, I mean the three of them. Nowadays you can’t tell the boys from the girls by the clothes they wear and which one has the hair down to the shoulders, but whether they had anything offbeat going I couldn’t tell you. All I know is, there was juice in the air.”

  He drank. “And when I say juice—Shayne, on a damp day you could see sparks in the air. The amount of liquor they consumed! I don’t mind taking a drink myself, I’ve got no scruples against it. But that’s on dry land. I don’t touch a drop on the water. It’s one of those things I never do.”

  “Never?”

  “Never,” Petrocelli said firmly. “It’s like a religion, booze and power boats don’t mix And you know it’s a constant temptation when everybody else is totally stoned. Whatever she tells you about what happened that last night, nine-tenths of it has got to be the gin talking. Bear that in mind. She was up in her private space capsule, going around and around.”

  “Now tell me what did happen.”

  Petrocelli seemed confused suddenly, as though he himself had trouble remembering.

  “I ducked my responsibility, in a way. When I hit the sack that night I would have given you a hundred to one there was going to be trouble. I don’t mean minor trouble. That woman was just too much. She had me on the canvas in ten seconds of the first round. It was no contest.”

  Shayne let him pause to get organized.

  “They were doing some yelling,” Petrocelli said. “She wrote a will cutting De Rham off, and she had me come down and sign it. He had a long scratch on his face and she’d busted his guitar. That won’t mean anything to you, but he loved that guitar. You could tell by the way he held it. I heard glasses being thrown or dropped. They had some kind of fire, I don’t know what, but next morning there was this big burned place on the coffee table. They were all ready to get their fingers in everybody else’s eyes. Brady was trying to keep out of it but it was taking a lot out of him. I did have a drink at that. She gave me one af
ter I witnessed her signature. And then she said, and I quote, ‘Stay on call, in case neither of these two bums can get it up.’ Or that was the idea of it, I don’t recall the exact words. And she gave me a French kiss and a feel, with Brady and De Rham looking at us. Man, was I embarrassed! I skinned out of there so fast. I even locked my door from the inside because whatever was going to happen I didn’t want to be in the middle of it.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s as far as I can take it, of my own knowledge. Not to beat around the bush or anything, but I thought somebody was going to get killed! It was that kind of climate. But what could I do? Nobody was listening to me. Next morning we were off Palm Beach. The course we’d laid out would take us in through Lake Worth to finish up on the Intracoastal Waterway. They wanted to see Lauderdale and so on. So of course after all the drinking they were all three of them sacked in and I was the only one awake. They didn’t see Delray Beach, they didn’t see Boca Raton, they didn’t see Pompano. At about eleven Brady struggled up on deck, with a couple of poached eggs for eyes. Mr. and Mrs. were back at it in the master stateroom, hammer and tongs. I had a sort of headache myself from all the tension. What I was looking forward to was finding the Sunrise Shores, number one, and a nice uncomplicated bar, number two. I’d just about made up my mind that I and the De Rhams had had it. I might have been able to promote myself a piece if I stuck around, but she was too ticky for my taste. I’ll take advantage of something if it falls in my lap, it goes with being a captain, but I like to keep a sense of proportion.”

  “Who paid you off?”

  “De Rham. I didn’t see her again to talk to. But I heard her! You know how sound travels on a boat. They were having this same argument all across the north bay. I heard enough to get the gist, and it was all about how Captain Petrocelli was the only real man aboard that boat. I know it sounds self-centered,” he said smugly, “but that’s what she was saying. She didn’t want to have a real dingdong affair with me, all she wanted to do was try me a couple of times. She couldn’t see why he objected. Shayne, it made me shiver. After we tied up, De Rham came out and he looked like death warmed over. Circles under his eyes the size of oranges. He said that under the circumstances, et cetera et cetera, I’d better start traveling. I was only too happy, as you can imagine. People are always looking for captains who don’t look like out and out goons. He was nice about it, nothing but friendly words spoken. I picked up my gear and hit the dock in about thirty seconds flat.”

  “That sounds clear enough,” Shayne said. “What’s this harassment she’s complaining about?”

  “She’s got a nerve complaining. I got myself a room and began reconnoitering bars. Riley’s has been more or less my headquarters. I had to get the taste of the Nefertiti out of my mouth. Then I got to thinking. I walked off without a reference. I could get along without it, but it’s the kind of thing I like to have. Like now. You’re wondering who to believe, me or Mrs. De Rham, and if I had a reference I could show it to you and that would settle it. See what I mean? So I went back.”

  He was so caught up in his explanation that he was neglecting his drinking. Shayne let him tell it his own way.

  “I talked to Brady. He was in a hell of a mood. A chip on his shoulder. What the hell was I bothering them about? De Rham wasn’t there. Mrs. De Rham wasn’t feeling too well and I couldn’t see her. But I mean! Why should he be the spokesman? I felt like picking him up in my thumb and forefinger and dropping him in the bay. We were never buddy-buddy at any time. I was always the, you know, employee. I can be stubborn when I feel like it and I came back the next day. De Rham still wasn’t there, Mrs. De Rham still wasn’t feeling too well. This time Brady and I had a little altercation, a little back and forth. I wasn’t stone cold sober myself. I thought of getting Mrs. De Rham to write me the reference, but that’s not the same thing, De Rham’s the owner of record. And Brady, the punk, do you know what he did? He came on with a goddamn pistol.”

  He drank, finally, and held his glass to the light to show Shayne he could use more gin. Shayne sipped his cognac and waited.

  “I have an allergy to guns, personally,” Petrocelli said. “Is a reference worth getting shot to death over? But it struck me later—why the paranoia? Where was De Rham, exactly? They were supposed to be going to South America, so why was she still here? I had a couple of drinks with individuals who work at the marina, the night guard, the kid who pumps gas. Nobody’s seen any sign of De Rham after the first day. And that’s a real party they’ve been having, she and Brady. A real flow of bottles. She’s only been off the boat like a few times at night to use the phone, and not navigating too well. Well, hell. Extracurricular sex—what’s wrong with that? I’m in no position to judge. I just about decided to let it go when I got a call from her at the motel.”

  “When?”

  “Couple of days ago. She sounded pretty good, not slurring her words or anything. She said she’d been under the weather lately, which is one way to put it. Now she’d heard I’ve been going around spreading slander about her, which is a lie. I’ve only talked to a few people and I’ve said nothing but the truth, namely that she and Brady are alone on the boat and what happened to the husband? She said she didn’t like to think I was holding a grudge, it was just the way things worked out. So why didn’t I go back to New York? She was willing to give me a hundred, like severance pay, to cover transportation. She didn’t want me coming back to the boat, because Paul and I would be sure to tangle, so she’d send it to me.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Everything’s wrong with it!” He turned in the seat. “De Rham already gave me an extra hundred for transportation when we parted company. What makes her so anxious to get me out of town? Why should Paul he carrying a pistol? There’s more here than meets the eye. Dig? I’m planning to go back to New York eventually, because, not wanting to say anything against your hometown, Shayne, I’m not too crazy about the weather down here. Meanwhile, I’m in no hurry. I’m shacked up with this Sandy. She was right there beside me in the bed when I took the call. I told Mrs. De Rham sure, send me the hundred, and it came in the mail. Now a hundred bucks may not mean much to you or to me, but she’s in one of the upper tax brackets and she don’t part with that kind of dough unless there’s a reason. I mean she gave me a five for Christmas last year! I thought about it and I thought about it, and the explanation I came up with finally was that she wanted me out of town because she and Brady between them have put De Rham out of his misery!”

  He held up his hands to keep Shayne from objecting.

  “I know. What have I got to go on? He’s probably alive and well somewhere and there’s nothing to it. But you can’t get around the fact. There were four people on the Nefertiti when she came in, including me, and there are only two people on her now. The clincher as far as I’m concerned, and maybe you won’t think this is such a big deal, is the guitar. It’s still on the boat. I saw it the day Brady pulled the gun on me.”

  “I thought you said she smashed it.”

  “No, she just put a dent in it and broke the strings. What I’m getting at is—if he got fed up with the way she was treating him and walked off, he would have taken the guitar with him. It was hardly ever out of his hands on the way down. Anything else he might leave, but not the guitar.”

  Shayne was scraping his chin. “Let’s get the chronology. Your two visits to the boat, and the call from Mrs. De Rham.”

  Petrocelli shook his head. “The dates have been running together on me lately, Shayne. The call was like five days ago now. You could verify it with the cops, because I called them that same day. I don’t know if you’ll think it was finky or not, but if there’s any chance of a murder! The thing of it is, of the three of them De Rham was the one I liked. I know it’s probably all in my head. But somebody ought to go and ask her one simple question: ‘What have you done with your husband, Mrs. De Rham? Where is he?’”

  “Who did you talk with?”
/>   “What cops? I saw a couple. One named Richardson?”

  “Luke Richardson. I know him.” Shayne finished his cognac and screwed the cap back on the flask. “Do you have any money?”

  “I’ve got about four hundred in the safe at the motel. Why?”

  Shayne opened his wallet and counted out three fifties. “I don’t think you’d better go back there. I’ll check you in somewhere else.”

  “Why? What do you mean?” Petrocelli said, alarmed. “You don’t think anybody’s going to—”

  Shayne said roughly, “I don’t know a damn thing about it, but they obviously don’t want you in Miami. Brady has a gun. Guns have a way of going off. All you have to do is pull the trigger.”

  “Don’t be dumb. You don’t really think that creep Brady—” He stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Shayne, do you know it never actually dawned on me until right this minute? If he killed De Rham, if he tied an anchor to him and dropped him in the bay, I’ve been playing with fire! I think you may be right. I’d better stay out of sight for a while.”

  He shuddered and drank the gin-flavored melted ice at the bottom of his glass. “Now that I think of it, that Brady has a bad eye. Mean and lazy. He wouldn’t walk a block out of his way, but if he could do it without getting up, yeah—I really think he could pull that trigger.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Shayne took Petrocelli to a motel in Biscayne Park, on the Miami side of the bay. The gin had finally caught up to him, and he seemed badly frightened. Shayne left him watching a gangster movie on T.V.

  Using an outside phone booth, he called Luke Richardson, the Beach detective who had talked with Petrocelli. He was at home, still awake, and Shayne heard gunfire in the background. Apparently he was watching the same movie.

  “Petrocelli,” he said, after Shayne told him what he wanted. “I caught that squeal. Who’s your client, Mrs. De Rham?”

  “Her lawyer. I haven’t been able to talk to her yet. How seriously are you taking this?”

  “I think he could have something, Mike. Did he tell you about the guitar? I didn’t get the full story. My theory with somebody like Petrocelli, you sit still and let him talk. But as luck would have it, Chief Painter didn’t have anything better to do that day—”