“Where did you find him, Maggie?” she said.
“Never you mind. You concentrate on your lines. Don’t hurry them tonight. Those pauses are vital.”
She took Shayne into a small office, which had barely room enough in it for a littered desk and two chairs. The walls were covered with theatrical posters and autographed photographs. None of the faces in the photographs was familiar to Shayne. If they were famous, it was in a world he knew nothing about.
She closed the door carefully. “The good thing about this building is that it’s solid. I can yell at you in here and nobody’ll hear me.”
Shayne cleared a corner of the desk and planted his hip on it. “Yelling won’t help, Mrs. Smith.” He took his unlighted cigarette out of his mouth. “I don’t suppose smoking’s allowed.”
“Go ahead. It’s against fire regulations, but maybe the best thing I can do for this theatre is burn it down.”
His lighter flared. She picked a cigarette out of a pack by the phone, and let him light it for her.
She sat down behind the desk, first moving a small pile of bound typescripts. “If this is blackmail, I don’t see how I can make it worth your while. I’m not just broke. I owe money all over town. Or isn’t it money you want?”
“I want some cooperation, Mrs. Smith.” He took the envelope from her and tore it into quarters, then dropped them in a heavy glass ashtray and set them on fire. “Is the name of the boat and the name of the guy enough, or do you want the rest of it?”
“I think I’d better hear a little more,” she said evenly. “Because there’s always a chance you’re bluffing isn’t there?”
“The man who arranged it was a fixer named Sam Toby. A corporation he was working for wanted a favorable ruling from the Wage-Hour Division in the Labor Department. The cruise lasted nine days. After you got back-”
“That’s enough,” she said. “I won’t ask you where you got this because I know you wouldn’t tell me. I just hope it’s not in the public domain.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose hard between her thumb and forefinger. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to stop seeing Senator Hitchcock.”
Her eyes opened. “So Trina sent you. I don’t like to think unpleasant thoughts about anybody, but Trina Hitchcock is one person I think civilization could easily do without. I wouldn’t have said she was your type, either.”
“Few of my clients are,” Shayne said. “I don’t let it bother me.”
“Are you a lawyer?”
“No, a private detective. She thought it would be better to have it handled by somebody from out of town.”
Maggie hit the desk a hard blow with her knuckles. “I didn’t think she’d go this far! I knew she didn’t approve, she hasn’t made any secret of that, but my God! Usually it’s the parent who’s possessive! Do you know how Emory has been spending his evenings the last few years? Bookbinding. That’s a restful hobby, and he actually does very good work. But it’s not too stimulating.”
“I’m sure you’re an improvement over bookbinding, Mrs. Smith.”
“I want to tell you something. I don’t know what’s wrong with Trina, but sometimes I think it’s fairly major. Her father is serious about being a senator. He works hard, and he’s good at it. I don’t agree with all his ideas, but they’re his own and nobody else’s. He’s never made five cents over his government salary. He doesn’t give a damn about popularity inside the Club.”
“That’s why I think he deserves a break.”
“You can’t think that. So long as he lets his daughter decide whom he can see and whom he can’t, he’s in danger of drying up, of turning into a self-indulgent, crotchety old man. I don’t like to pat myself on the back, but he’s changed in the last few weeks. He’s started enjoying himself for the first time in years.”
“You still don’t get the idea,” Shayne said wearily. “I wasn’t hired to argue with you. We want this broken off, and it has to happen right away.”
After a moment’s silence, breathing out a mouthful of smoke, she said, “Tell Trina I said to go to hell.”
“OK,” Shayne said. “Any other message?”
“Mr. Shayne, look! He’s beginning to break out of his cocoon. That sounds corny, but it happens to be true. How do you think he’ll feel, or doesn’t that matter?”
“Don’t leave it up to Trina to tell him. Break off with him yourself and he won’t have to know about those nine days in the Caribbean.”
“Oh, it must be wonderful to be so sure you’re right! Well, I’m going to fight you. This happened eight years ago, when I was a different person, and I think Emory will be able to understand that. I have a chance.”
“Maybe, if it was between you and Hitchcock. But I’m in on it, and I’m here to make sure you lose. Unless you back out, and I mean as of now, I’ll draw up a memo giving the full facts of that Caribbean cruise, and run it through the copier. I’ll get Miss Hitchcock to tell me where to send the copies. Does your theatre have a board of trustees? That would be the logical place to start. And shell have other ideas.”
She stared at him. “It’s too bad you didn’t grow up in Germany. You could have had a wonderful career under Hitler.”
“Never mind the remarks. First you say yes, and then we’ll figure out how to make it stick. I think you’d better leave town for a while.”
“You filthy bastard.” She drew a deep shuddering breath. “You’re right-I don’t want that story circulated among my trustees. Oddly enough, I think I could explain it to Emory. He’s a human being.”
“I know it’s been beautiful,” Shayne said sarcastically. “And now it’s over.”
Her voice trembled. “I made a bad mistake once, and I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion I’d have to pay for it someday. Exactly what do you suggest I do?”
“Call him up and cancel your date for tonight. Say you have a headache.”
“That’s no lie.” She lifted the phone slowly, as though it was heavier than she expected, and started to dial. Then she slammed it back and stood up. “No! First I think I deserve the privilege of telling you what I think about people like you. You’re one of the main things that’s wrong with this world, Mr. Shayne. Probably my friendship with Emory wouldn’t have amounted to much. There were too many arguments against it. He doesn’t care about the theatre and I don’t give a damn about politics. But it was nice! After an evening together life seemed to be fairly manageable for a change. Do you think that anybody-anybody on God’s earth, including detectives-has a right to any privacy?”
She was beginning to get through to him. “You’ve made your point,” he said. “Now get on the phone. This isn’t just anybody. It’s a United States senator. Make the goddamn phone call and then you can yell all you like, if it makes you feel any better.”
She said coldly, “What does the United States Senate have to do with the fact that a dried-up stick like Trina Hitchcock doesn’t consider me a suitable playmate for her father?”
“Do you think I give a damn how many women he sleeps with if he isn’t hurting anybody? But Sam Toby didn’t dump you in his lap as a public service. Everybody keeps telling me there’s a billion dollars involved here, and then they go on to say that a billion dollars is a lot of money. Just don’t act too hurt. Make the phone call and get it over with.”
She picked up the phone again and tried to club him with it. He caught her hand. She was breathing hard. As her breasts rose they almost touched him.
“Is that what Trina told you? That it’s the same as eight years ago? I’m doing something for Sam Toby?”
“Come on,” Shayne said roughly, “what difference does it make?”
“It might make a lot of difference. I want to know what kind of story she sold you.”
“Will you get it through your head that we aren’t just guessing? We know that Toby set up the first meeting with Hitchcock. That’s definite, and it goes on from there.”