Shayne walked into Gentry’s office a few minutes after Buell Renslow had been brought in from the skyscraper jail across Flagler Street. The ex-convict looked pallid but composed as he stood by Gentry’s desk and heard the chief say he was being released. His gaze flickered to Shayne’s face when the detective entered, but he didn’t speak. Will Gentry raised his eyebrows in Shayne’s direction, but went on with what he was saying to Renslow:
“… and I’ve never kept a man locked up a minute after I was convinced of his innocence.” He paused to take a cigar from his mouth and spit in the direction of a brass spittoon. “You’ll be called as a witness in the Thrip case to identify Meldrum’s note, of course. You’re just damned lucky Shayne had sense enough to gather up the pieces at the Tally-Ho after you left. Without that note you’d be in a tough spot.”
Renslow’s body became rigid. He darted a perplexed look behind him at the detective but remained discreetly silent.
“I’ve never believed in hounding a man because he’s made a mistake in the past,” Gentry went on. “I understand you’ve done your time and that puts you in the clear as far as I’m concerned. Don’t try to leave the city, and you’ll get a square deal from me.”
Renslow said, “Thanks, chief.” He wet his lips and waited.
“That’s all,” Gentry told him. “You can go now.”
Turning away from the chief’s desk, Renslow met Shayne’s hard gaze. The detective said, “Wait out in the hall for me,” and went past him toward Gentry.
Renslow went out and closed the door. Gentry leaned back and grunted, “I suppose you want to see Phyllis?”
“Why-no.” Shayne groped for words. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. I-hell, Will, I don’t know what I’m going to say to her.”
Gentry nodded his understanding. “I phoned the matron a few minutes ago and she said Phyllis was sleeping like a baby. It would be just as well not to disturb her tonight. She’s not worried, you know. She expects you to pull a miracle out of the hat any time it’s needed.” He pursed his lips and sighed, avoiding Shayne’s eyes.
Shayne said, “Yeh, I know.” He hesitated over further words, then clamped his lips together tightly, turned, and walked out.
Renslow was waiting for him in the hall. They walked silently to a side door and went out into the early morning coolness of the deserted side street.
Buell Renslow drew in a long, deep breath and let it out raspingly. He said, “It tastes good.”
They turned the corner onto Southwest First Street and he added, “The air, I mean.”
Shayne nodded. “Yeh. I figured that was what you meant.”
“It tastes different when you breathe it behind bars,” Renslow told him with passionate conviction. “A man can’t know what I’m talking about unless he’s spent a lot of years behind them like I have.”
“I suppose not,” Shayne agreed.
They walked on together, their heels thumping the sidewalk loudly in the morning stillness. The thin arc of the moon was paling before the coming of early dawn. A milk truck lumbered past and a scarred alley cat slunk away between two buildings as they approached. They were alone in the sleeping city except for a policeman on his beat who turned and watched them over his shoulder as far as he could see them.
A block beyond Miami Avenue Renslow broke the silence nervously: “I don’t get this at all. What the chief said back there in his office just didn’t make sense. If you grabbed the pieces of that note and put them together, I don’t see why they didn’t put me under their jail.”
“Gentry hasn’t seen the note you got from Carl Meldrum,” Shayne explained.
“Wait a minute.” Renslow stopped and grabbed his arm. “He talked like he knew all about it.”
“He thinks he does.” Shayne shook off Renslow’s arm. “We’ll go up to my place while I explain the setup to you.”
He led the way to the side entrance of his hotel, where they went down concrete steps and through a door into a square vestibule, then up two flights to his old bachelor quarters which now served him as an office.
The living-room of his apartment was in pretty much of a mess, just as the fracas with Ernst had left it. Shayne went around and methodically straightened up chairs while Renslow watched silently. When he was through he motioned to the wall liquor cabinet and asked, “What’ll you drink?”
Renslow eyed the array of bottles avidly. He went over and selected a bottle of bourbon. Shayne got some cognac and glasses, a seltzer bottle for his guest, and the inevitable ice water for himself.
They settled themselves at the center table and both had a drink. Then they lit cigarettes and Shayne leaned back comfortably with one leg dangling off the padded arm of his chair. His face wore an inscrutable mask of hardness. He didn’t appear in any hurry to get on with the business that had brought them together.
Renslow took a long pull on his cigarette, then leaned forward and jerked out, “I heard them talking, there at the jail and all-and they picked up the dame that killed Carl, huh?”
“They picked up the girl you saw in Mona’s apartment-after Meldrum was dead.”
“And she was-well, hell, some of them say she turned out to be your wife.”
Shayne said, “That’s right.” He shifted his leg an inch to a more comfortable position.
“I don’t get it,” Renslow exclaimed hoarsely. “Damned if I do. Just between you and me, you know how that note reads. It looks like I beat it over there and bumped Carl to keep him from blabbing on me for killing my sister. Whether I killed either one of them or not wouldn’t make any difference to the law if they saw that note. I’d burn, so help me.”
Shayne nodded. “You’ve sized it up just right.”
“I don’t see why you’re holding the note out on them. Turning me loose this way puts Carl’s death squarely up to your wife. If I didn’t, she must have. If you had showed Gentry that note she’d be here right now and I’d be behind the eight ball.”
“Maybe I like your company better than I do hers,” Shayne suggested lazily.
Renslow’s lips twisted into a scornful smile. “Don’t try to feed me that. You’re playing for keeps one way or the other.”
“Yes,” Shayne admitted, “I am. I faked a note. I typed it and signed Meldrum’s name, then tore it up and pasted the pieces down to make it look right. Gentry has that note and I have the real one. In the note I forged, Meldrum admits he killed Mrs. Thrip and threatens to accuse you of hiring him to do the job unless you give him getaway money. He warns you not to try and kill him because he’s left a letter accusing you that will be opened after his death. Does that make sense to you?”
“Plenty,” Renslow exulted. “That makes it look like a cinch that I didn’t bop him. That’s why they let me go. But I still don’t get your angle,” he muttered, his face clouding. “Why should you cover up for me with the cops and leave your wife to take the rap?”
Shayne stretched out the palm of his hand and suggestively rubbed his thumb across the base of his fingers. “Only one possible reason, Renslow. Money.”
“I get it. If I don’t pay off, you’ll spring the real note I got from Carl and that’s all they’ll need to slap two murder charges on me.”
“You get the idea nicely.”
“But I didn’t kill either of them,” Renslow protested frantically.
“Didn’t you?”
“I swear to God I didn’t. It’s all a frame-up.”
“But it’s practically airtight,” Shayne pointed out.
“But it’s still a frame. I swear I didn’t.”
“I’m not interested in that,” Shayne told him coldly. “The law isn’t going to be much interested either. You know how that goes. They’ll execute you first and begin to wonder if you were guilty afterward.”
Renslow’s body tautened. He began to tremble. “Yeah,” he said huskily. “Yeah, that’s the way it’ll be. I won’t have a chance. I knew that as soon as I read the note. Everything went red when I saw how Carl was fixing to frame me. If I hadn’t torn that note up and then left it like a fool for you to grab-” He made a gesture of despair.
“That’s the mistake that’s going to cost you,” Shayne agreed. “And cost you plenty.”
Renslow slumped down and lifted his glass. Bourbon and soda trickled down his chin when his shaking hand tilted the glass to his lips. “I’m hooked. I know it. I’m not arguing. But I’m not carrying much folding money these days. I don’t know-”
“Don’t try to chisel on me. Get it through your thick head that I’m not playing for marbles.” Shayne’s voice was remorseless. “Start figuring out how much your life is worth to you.”
“It’s just how much I can raise,” Renslow protested. “All I’m getting from the estate is a lousy handout each month.”
“Which is a hell of a lot more than you will get if you’re convicted of murdering your sister.”
“I know, I know.” Renslow spread out his hands placatingly. “I’m not arguing my spot with you. With me innocent as a baby, I’ve not got a Chinaman’s chance if you spring that note. I’m just trying to tell you I’m not heeled with heavy dough.”
“That’s liable to be your tough luck.” Shayne gestured toward the bourbon bottle. “Help yourself.”
“I need it,” Renslow admitted. He filled his glass. “You can’t get blood from a turnip. Hell, I’ll come clean. I’ll fork over every damn cent I can rake up.”
“How much can you raise? Fifty grand?”
“Fifty gran-? Where do you think I can put my hands on that kind of money?”
“Well, twenty-five?”
Renslow was breathing heavily and there was a frown of incredulity on his face. “You’re nuts!” he exclaimed. “Pure nuts. I might scrape up twenty-five C’s-” He leaned forward to study his host’s face hopefully.
“Pin money,” said Shayne with scorn. “I’ve got to get paid for letting my wife take the rap for you.”
“I can’t get any more,” Renslow faltered. “I swear I’m leveling with you;”
“That’s going to be your hard luck. I didn’t know I was wasting time on a piker. I should have left you lying in jail.”
“God, but you’re tough,” Renslow breathed. “Can I help it if I can’t kick in with a fortune?”
“Won’t your part of the estate add up to millions?”
“Sure, but it may not be settled in court for a year. If you’re willing to wait until I collect-”
Shayne’s harsh laughter drowned out the note of abject pleading in the ex-convict’s voice. “Cash on the barrelhead is the only thing I can use.” He frowned over Renslow’s head. A musing light came into his eyes. Renslow started to speak and he silenced him with upheld hand.
“Wait a minute. I just thought of another angle. Maybe I can sell a bill of goods to someone else.” He laughed unpleasantly. “I was dumb not to see this angle before. If you’re convicted of murdering your sister, the whole estate will go to Thrip. That makes your conviction worth a few million to him, doesn’t it?”
“God!” Renslow’s tone was awed. “You wouldn’t-sell me out to him? Like auctioning me off to the highest bidder?”
“Why not?” Shayne smiled pleasantly, showing even rows of white teeth between lips that curled back and away from each other. He lounged to his feet, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and teetered back and forth on the balls of his feet, nodding approbation for his own cleverness in solving the problem so neatly.
“Why not?” he demanded again. “All you mean to me is a way to make some money. Thrip is a businessman. It won’t take him long to see that your conviction will be worth money to him. He’ll pay, by God. And that’ll be lots better all the way around,” he went on argumentatively. “Lots cleaner. By throwing you to the wolves I can collect from Thrip and clear Mrs. Shayne at the same time. Not bad. Not bad at all, even if I do say it as shouldn’t.” He lifted his glass in a toast to himself with wholehearted self-approval.
“I believe you’d do it,” Renslow panted. “I believe you would.”
“Why not? I told you and Mona in her apartment yesterday that I had to have a fall guy. I warned you I wasn’t going to give a damn who got hurt. Here, I’ve got a sweet pay-off and a fall guy.”
“You’re crazy. You can’t get away with anything as raw as that.” Renslow came to his feet with a rush. The protesting words poured out like floodwaters bursting a dam. “I’m not going to sit on my pratt and let you frame me into the chair. Maybe you weren’t so smart when you held that note out. No one else knows about it. If I bump you, no one ever will.” He whirled and caught up a straight chair, turned threateningly while his eyes blazed hatred at the detective.
Shayne laughed shortly. “Put that chair down. There’s been enough killing.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” Renslow began to inch forward.
Shayne stood his ground. “Don’t be any more of a damned fool than you can help,” he advised Renslow coldly. “You won’t be any better off with a broken neck than if you were squatting on the hot seat. I’m still open for bids,” he went on casually.
Renslow stopped inching forward. His tense grip on the chair relaxed slightly. In a choked voice he said, “You know I won’t be able to meet Thrip’s bid. I’m out on a limb for cash.”
Shayne said, “Let go of that chair and sit down.” After a moment’s hesitation, Renslow obeyed. Receding anger left him shaken and afraid.
Shayne said, “That’s better. Now, look. Can’t you raise some cash on your prospects? A man who stands to inherit several million dollars ought to be able to raise a few grand if he tries hard enough.”
“Not as much as twenty-five,” Renslow faltered. “I don’t know where-”
“That was just my asking price. Hell, I’m not a hard guy to deal with. In fact, I’m a damned softy about giving an ex-con a break. Double your offer and I’ll play ball with you.”
“You mean-double twenty-five hundred?”
“That’s right.” Shayne nodded encouragement. “Just five grand-enough to keep me in drinking-liquor a few months while I get the taste of this case washed out of my mouth. How about it?”
Renslow emptied his bourbon glass and some of the color came back into his face. He nodded slowly. “I think maybe I could raise that much. Mona-she’s got some contacts with heavy dough.”
“I don’t give a damn where or how you get it. Noon today is the deadline though.”
“That doesn’t give me much time.”
“It’s all you can have. This thing is so damn hot I’ve got to drop it by noon.”
“I don’t know. I’ll do my best to raise it by then.”
“You’d better succeed,” Shayne told him implacably. “Be here with the cash at noon or the real note goes into the hands of the cops.”
“And if I do-?”
“If you’re here with five grand at twelve o’clock you’ll be in the clear. I’ll guarantee you a long life out of jail.”
“You won’t cross me up? You won’t go to Thrip and give him a chance to bid higher?”
“To hell with it if you can’t trust me,” Shayne growled. “I’m not signing any affidavits, if that’s what you mean. I’m playing with fire to give you a break, and you’ll have to trust me-or else.”
“Yeah,” Renslow agreed dismally, “I guess I will.” He sighed and got up. “I’ll raise that dough if I have to crack the First National Bank.”
“Good.” Shayne flashed him a smile and stepped forward to slap him on the shoulder. “You won’t regret it.” He steered Renslow toward the door. “But I’ll make it my business to see that you do regret it if you’re not here.”
He opened the door and watched Renslow go toward the elevator. He closed it softly, moved across the room to a window, and lifted a shade to see dawn lighting the sleeping city. He suddenly realized that he had not closed his eyes since the telephone got him out of bed more than twenty-four hours previously.
He dropped the shade and went to the telephone, where he called the Thrip number. He waited a long time with the receiver to his ear before the butler’s sleepy voice answered.
He asked for Mr. Thrip and the butler assured him it was quite out of the question to awaken his master at such an ungodly hour. The detective told the butler Mike Shayne was calling and it was pretty damned important. The butler grumbled and then acceded. Shayne waited a while longer and finally Thrip’s querulous voice came over the wire:
“Mr. Shayne? I’m quite certain you have nothing to say that could not wait until a more decent hour.”
Shayne said, “Don’t be too certain. Pinch yourself and wake up enough to understand what I say the first time I say it. I have in my possession a note from Carl Meldrum that was delivered to your brother-in-law at the Tally-Ho just before midnight. In it, Meldrum states that he was an eyewitness to your wife’s murder and demands hush money for keeping his testimony from the police. As you doubtless know, Carl Meldrum is now dead and the only tangible evidence against Renslow is this note. If I suppress it, Renslow will surely go free and be in a position to claim his half of the estate. If I turn it over to the police it will positively clinch the case against your wife’s murderer. Renslow has offered me five thousand dollars to destroy the note. Is it worth more than that to you to have the police see it?”
“Why, this is shocking,” Thrip protested. “Definitely illegal. You can’t play fast and loose with murder evidence in that way.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Thrip echoed incredulously. “Because I refuse to countenance any such infamous proposal. I will most certainly report you to the police.”
“Don’t be a complete fool. All I have to do is to destroy the note and deny this conversation-and that will cost you a few million and the satisfaction of seeing your wife’s murderer executed.”
“See here,” blustered Thrip, “you can’t-”
Shayne said, “Okay, pal,” and hung up.
He went to the table and lit a cigarette. His telephone began ringing. He let it ring quite a while before stepping back and lifting the receiver. Mr. Thrip sounded distinctly harried this time.
“Ah, Mr. Shayne. I may have been a trifle hasty-”
Shayne growled, “You were.”
“Yes. Ah-on second thought I realize you are unscrupulous enough to do exactly as you threatened. While I object to being the victim of coercion I most certainly am unwilling to see the murderer of my wife go unpunished. You-mentioned five thousand dollars?”
“That’s right. That’s all Renslow can raise on the spur of the moment. I have a living to make, so I’m naturally anxious to get a higher offer.”
“You are the most openly unscrupulous man I’ve ever encountered,” Mr. Thrip told him warmly. “Ah-suppose we say six thousand?”
“That’s better than five,” Shayne agreed promptly. “Bring the cash-it’s better than a check in a delicate situation like this. Have it here at noon. Twelve o’clock sharp. Any later will be too late.” He gave Thrip the address and hung up.
He hesitated about going upstairs to the empty and silent apartment. There were too many things to remind him of Phyllis-and that she was spending the night in jail. He opened a window and stretched out on the couch in his office. He was sleeping soundly a minute after he lay down.