“Sure I did,” Shayne agreed. “But without her we might still be looking for Becky and have no lead at all on the diamond heist and killing. And that, is your baby — right, Patterson?”
“The robbery, yes,” Patterson agreed. “The murder belongs to Homicide, and that’s Elfmont. At any rate, we all seem to be after a slice of the same pie.”
“Yeah,” Marshal Walsh agreed, “and I want that fat Kreuger. I’m going to talk to IRS about him. That should give him a lot to worry about.”
X
Sergeant Patterson was right. No sooner had the group left Colletti’s home than he was on the phone. He dialed the number of a Beach hotel. “Room six twenty-five,” he said.
There was a series of rings and the hotel operator said, “I’m sorry but six twenty-five doesn’t answer. Is there a message?”
Colletti left his number. “Say it’s urgent.”
It was his first big mistake.
A half-hour later, Colletti’s call was returned. “Got your message, Dom. What’s up?”
“Plenty. Get over here as soon as possible. Leave now.”
“Right. I’m on my way.”
Jerry Trane, née Tranetti, was over six feet and built like the proverbial brick outhouse, a hood and killer without a conscience. Assassination to him was a way of life. His victims? He couldn’t care less. Man, woman, hood, legit citizen.
Colletti brought Trane into the library and closed the twin doors. He pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Jerry, and listen good.”
“You have my fullest attention, Dom. Go ahead.”
“That dumb bastard Allegretti got mixed up with a dame named Ann Waterman. From what I learned about her, she’s a drunk and a tramp any jerk can get for a couple of drinks and a meal. She delivered some of the hot stones to me. Right then I should have sent her back to Allegretti. But, you know what? She comes on like Princess Grace. All class.
“You can’t get to her in the hospital because there’s a guard around the clock, and everyone who wants to get into her room is gone over with a fine-tooth comb.”
“I could manage it,” Trane said. “I knock off the fuzz on the door, walk in and hit this broad and it’s all over.”
“Too risky. I want it done smoothly. She has an apartment at the Royal Admiral Hotel. They also rent to transients. There’s a directory on a wall in a corridor. You’ll find it. She’s listed. I want you to get one of your better girl-friends, I mean one that looks as respectable.
“Move in with a couple of suitcases. When you find out this Waterman dame’s apartment, wait until she’s released from the hospital. I’ll know. I’ve got a contact there. Splash a quart or two of vodka or scotch over this dame and kill her.
“If she’s on an upper floor, throw her over the patio rail. Here’s a brochure of the place. The address is right there. After you’ve checked in, get rid of your broad. Pay her off and tell her to take a cruise for a couple of weeks. I’m relying on your judgment, Jerry. Don’t foul this up.”
“You can depend on me, Dom. I got the picture.” Colletti handed Trane ah envelope. “There’s ten grand in there. Do it right and I’ll add another five big ones.”
“Thanks, Dom. Now, I’d like to ask one question. Why do I have to check into the place at all? Why not just walk in and do the job?”
“Because you wouldn’t get past the doorman. They’ve got orders to screen everyone closely, just like in the hospital. Just do it the way I outlined it. Okay?”
“Okay, Dom, just like you say.”
Trane contacted a beautiful blonde he had met at a cocktail party. He told her what he wanted. She was dubious about the whole plan.
He tried another gal he met at a convention. The ice that came over the phone froze him cold.
He got action on his third call. She was an extremely attractive executive bank employee named Diane Wallace. He prided himself on being seen only with beautiful women.
Diane Wallace was puzzled. “You just want me to act as if we were married? No more?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing — except I’ll buy you the finest seafood dinner in the most exclusive restaurant in town.”
“Okay. When does this charade come off?”
“What time do you leave your office?”
“Five o’clock.”
“That’s it. I’ll pick you up there.”
“Well, it all sounds very mysterious. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“You are. No problems.”
Shayne picked Ann Waterman up at the hospital the next day. He drove her to her apartment. She was nervous as a cat.
Every car that came abreast of Shayne’s threw her into a tizzy. Ann would duck down into her seat and moan. “That’s it!” she screamed once. When a black sedan with two ominous-looking men in the front seat blew a tire just as the car was at Shayne’s rear bumper Ann Waterman fainted.
Shayne revived her with a slug of brandy he kept in the glove compartment. He let the liquor flow from the bottle into Ann’s throat until she gagged and began to choke. He explained what the sound was. She was unconvinced and thoroughly terrified.
Shayne got Ann to her apartment safely. She was a very frightened woman. He asked her if she had any sleeping pills.
“Oh, no. No sleeping pills. I want to stay awake. You aren’t going to leave me, are you?”
“You’ll be okay. I’ll summon a police officer to stand guard at the door.”
Shayne assured her everything would be all right, and left as she began to weep like a frightened child. She lay down on the couch and huddled into the foetal position.
Jerry Trane jimmied the balcony door off Ann Waterman’s apartment and stepped inside. He moved to where she lay on the couch. She had dozed off. She awoke quickly, subconsciously sensing danger. She looked up at Trane and let out a wild scream. She began to scream for help.
Trane slapped her viciously across the face, drawing blood from her mouth and nose. Ann screamed louder. Trane hit, her with a vicious blow to the stomach and she folded up and dropped to the floor. The woman in the next apartment heard the screaming and called down to the doorman.
“There’s some terrible screaming going on in the next apartment. Sounds like the woman is being killed.”
XI
Shayne was still in the lobby, talking with the doorman, when the message came. “Someone’s in her apartment now!” the doorman cried. “She’s screaming!”
Shayne was in the elevator in seconds, and scant seconds later, on Ann Waterman’s floor. He raced to her apartment, crashed through the door, gun in hand. Jerry Trane, engrossed in his efforts to drop Ann over the patio rail, didn’t hear the redhead come in.
Mike Shayne moved quickly behind Trane, threw an armlock around the hit man’s neck and pulled him backward into the living room. Ann’s unconscious form fell to the floor.
Trane yanked a gun from the holster under his jacket. Shayne pointed his weapon down at Trane and pulled the trigger. The slug nearly tore Trane in two.
“You bastard!” Trane screamed.
Through the burst-open door Patterson, Wilson and two uniformed cops raced in.
Shayne said to Sergeant Patterson, “Call an ambulance. Our boy took a slug in the belly.”
The redhead knelt and picked Ann from the carpet. Blood was still flowing from her nose and, mouth. He put her down gently on the couch, got a towel from the bathroom and washed the blood from her face. Shayne then went to the phone and called a medico friend, Dr. Sterling.
“Very important, Doc. A friend of mine, a woman, seriously hurt, shock. She’s been beaten.” He gave Dr. Sterling the address.