Linda shook her head. “I’m afraid he didn’t mention it to me. You see,” she faltered, “right after he came back from that trip, I told him about George and asked for a divorce. It was extremely unpleasant and we… scarcely spoke for weeks afterward. I remember, when he was so holier-than-thou about George, asking him what he’d done all that week he was in New York at the convention. If he hadn’t maybe at least looked at another woman while he was away… and it made him very angry. He swore that he’d never been unfaithful to me in his life… even with a look.”
“All right.” Shayne folded the rose and picture inside the menu and returned it to his pocket. He settled back in his chair and asked casually, “Have you told me the works now, Linda? The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Are you holding anything back about George Nourse that might aid me in tracking him down?”
“Do you have to? You can’t suspect him, Mike.”
“It doesn’t make one goddamn whom I suspect or don’t,” he told her patiently. “Nourse is in this up to his ears, and until we find him and he proves an alibi he’s going to be our number one suspect. The sooner he comes forward and clears himself, the better. If he contacts you, tell him so. In the meantime, I’m looking for him. Tell him that.”
“I don’t think he’ll… be in touch with me,” she protested weakly.
“If he’s innocent, he should be. A man like Nourse knows what the score is. I’m surprised he hasn’t called you already. Now. Once more. Can you give me any line that might lead me to him?”
“Honestly, I can’t. I just don’t know anything to tell you.”
“All right.” Shayne finished off his gin and tonic and got to his feet. “Chief Painter from Miami Beach will be around to interview you any time now. I’ve already fixed it with the Miami police to have one of their men accompany Painter to see that he treats you decently. It may even be Will Gentry, the Miami chief of police. So I want you to promise me this: Tell them exactly what you told me. Tell them why you hesitated to admit the truth this morning, and be damned sure they get it straight that I didn’t know any better when I shot off my mouth in Painter’s office this morning. Have you got that?”
“Yes, Mike,” Linda said in a small voice. “I’ve got it.”
“One more thing. Don’t mention the fact that you’ve seen me and told me this in the meantime. Just let that ride. Give them the impression that you came to the realization all by yourself that you could no longer withhold the truth. Make a clean breast of it, and hope for the best. One thing I will say for Petey Painter,” Shayne went on. “One of the very few good things I can say about the little squirt. He isn’t really mean. He does have a couple of decent instincts. Unless it becomes absolutely necessary in solving the case and prosecuting it later, he won’t give out any personal items to the newspapers. Throw yourself on his mercy. Make big round eyes at him and admit what a bad girl you’ve been. Show him pictures of your two children and squeeze out a tear or two as you explain how they adored their daddy. He’ll play ball.”
“Oh, Mike!” Linda got to her feet and convulsively threw her arms around his neck. “You make me feel… oh, all cleansed and purified.” Shayne put both his big hands on her shoulders and pushed her back to look down into her face. “I suggest you remain on the purified binge,” he said drily. “It won’t hurt one damned bit to lay off the liquor at least until Painter has come and gone. A beautiful and bereaved widow is one thing. A sodden, drunken bum of a wife is another. If you do hear a word from Nourse, for God’s sake convince him he should give himself up to me if he didn’t catch up with Jerome last night. If he did, tell him South America is his best chance.”
He turned to the door and then paused with his hand on the knob. “I need a picture of Jerome. Do you have a late one I can take along?”
She said, “There are some snapshots we took last year with the children at the beach.”
She went into the bedroom and returned with an envelope containing several prints showing Jerome Fitzgilpin in bright sunlight with his children.
Shayne selected two of the clearest shots and pocketed them. “All right, Linda. Keep your chin up and I’ll be in touch.”
9
There were at least a dozen cars parked in front of the Sporting Club when Shayne drew up this time, and the bar was doing a brisk pre-luncheon business when he stepped inside. There was a younger bartender now on duty near the front of the bar, and Shayne saw Horseface working the farther end.
He turned to the left away from the bar, into a small anteroom with a wide stairway leading to the second floor. There was a velvet rope at the foot of the stairway which Shayne unhooked and then refastened behind him.
He went up to the top of the stairs where heavy double doors were closed and barred to shut off the gaming room beyond. He went down a narrow hallway to a closed door that was marked PRIVATE, turned the knob and walked in without knocking.
Pete Elston was alone in the office, seated behind a big desk checking entries in a ledger. He was a solid, stocky man in his forties with an unruly shock of very black hair, and he wore black-rimmed glasses while he did his paper work. He looked up at Shayne with a scowl which did not become more welcoming as he recognzed the redhead. He said,
“Don’t you knock when you walk into a private office?”
Shayne said, “Sometimes, Pete. But only when I’m pretty sure I’ll be welcome.”
Elston shrugged and pushed the ledger back. He removed his glasses. “Some special reason why you shouldn’t be welcome here this morning?”
“Actually, no. In fact, I’m here to do you a big favor. But that horsefaced ape on the bar downstairs tried to give me the bum’s rush when I was here earlier.”
“Barney? You know how it is with a place like this, Shayne. We’re pretty careful about our clientele. It wouldn’t be good for business to have a private eye hanging out here.”
Shayne pulled a chair closer to the desk and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He said, “Barney should have been more careful about his clientele last night.”
“That so?” Elston’s eyes became alert, questioning.
“Yeh. And maybe you should tell him to be more careful about the kind of Mickeys he feeds his customers. It’s not going to do your business one bit of good to have it get around that a guy’s in danger of getting doped and mugged when he has a drink downstairs.”
Elston sat very still, his solid features hardening. “How is that story likely to get around, Shamus?”
Shayne said, “I’ll make it my business to see that it does unless Barney comes clean with me. Get him up here.” Their eyes locked across the desk.
Elston said softly, “Like that, huh?”
Shayne said, “Like that. I mentioned a favor. This is it. A man named Jerome Fitzgilpin was fed dope in your bar last night. He was rolled outside, and died about a block down the street. You probably read about it in the paper.”
“Yeh. I read about it. Not that he was in my place first, though.”
“Maybe you won’t have to read about that… if you play ball with me.”
“Is that a threat, Shayne?”
“It sure as hell is.”
Elston sighed and relaxed. “I like to get things straight and clear. Have a drink?” He swivelled about to a small bar at his right.
Shayne said, “Get Barney up here.”
“Sure, Mike.” Elston’s voice was mild and placating. “If anything like that has been going on in my bar I want to know it as much as you do.” He turned and set two glasses and a bottle of cognac on the desk. “I haven’t gotten ice this morning. You want Barney should bring some up?”
Shayne relaxed with a grin. “A tall glass with water will be fine.”
Elston unhooked a microphone from beneath his desk and pressed a buzzer. He said, “Barney. I got a guest. Bring up a bucket of ice and a pitcher of water.” He replaced the microphone and said worriedly, “You’re sure about this, Shayne?”