Shoot the Works
Page 18
A sharply indrawn breath hissed through Peter Painter’s set teeth. “You don’t mind if I call her tonight to check the truth of your statement?”
Shayne unfolded his arms and both of his fists doubled up at his sides. His seething anger broke into the rumble of his voice as he told Painter: “I don’t mind you phoning Lucy any time, but I do goddamned well mind you standing here and calling me a liar.”
Painter took an involuntary step backward, glancing sideward for reassurance from the half dozen of his own men surrounding him.
“I warn you that you’re obstructing justice, Shayne. Identification of this corpse is of paramount importance. If I find out later that you’re holding out information for some devious purpose of your own I swear I’ll have your license.”
Shayne looked down at him contemptuously and didn’t reply.
“For the record, Shayne. What are you working on now?”
Making a visible effort to control his anger, Shayne said: “It’s none of your damned business, and you know it, but for the record … I’m not working on anything right now.”
“I want the name of every client who might have some bearing on this murder.”
Shayne said, “My clients don’t go around committing murders. But I’ll ask around tomorrow and if any of them did the job I’ll be happy to tell you about it. And if I turn up anything else that might help, I’ll let you have that. In the meantime, I’m going home.”
He turned away, but Peter Painter moved swiftly to get in front of him.
“Not so fast, Shayne. I don’t want you coming around tomorrow trying to cover up by saying you’ve just thought of something. You’re not going to get by with that. Give me all the information you’ve got tonight. Right now. You know how important an identification is in a case like this. Don’t think you can hold out and then make a grandstand play later on by solving the case with private information that you’ve had all along. You’ve, by God, pulled that stunt in the past, and don’t think I don’t know it.” The voice of the slender chief of detectives was reedy and shaking with wrath.
“You claim you don’t know anything about this man, so don’t try to horn in later. I won’t stand for it. Get back to your side of Biscayne Bay and stay there.”
Shayne’s fists were bunched by his sides again, but he looked down at the enraged little man and said pensively, “It was your idea for me to come over. God knows I don’t like the stink of your inefficiency in my nostrils.” He turned away, growling, “Where’s Matson?”
“Stay right here, Matson,” ordered Painter sharply. “I have other things for my men to do besides chauffering you around, Shayne. Try walking … or spend some of your money for a cab.”
Shayne stopped with his back to Painter and to the other Beach cops. He stood for a moment with his back to them, big shoulders hunched forward a trifle, legs widespread and planted firmly as though they refused to carry him forward in response to Painter’s suggestion.
Then he moved away from the spotlights without looking back, walked stolidly down the street in search of a cruising taxi to take him back across the Causeway to Miami.
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About the Author
Brett Halliday (1904–1977) was the primary pseudonym of American author Davis Dresser. Halliday is best known for creating the Mike Shayne Mysteries. The novels, which follow the exploits of fictional PI Mike Shayne, have inspired several feature films, a radio series, and a television series.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1957 by Brett Halliday
Cover design by Mimi Bark
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1461-8
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