The Violent World of Michael Shayne (16 page)

“Two,” he said.

The old man looked around to see who was doing this to him. Shayne grinned, unsettling him to the point where he missed the floor by a foot.

“Close enough,” Shayne said.

Opening the door himself, he stepped up.

“Watch your step,” the operator said.

That was what Shayne intended to do. He went along the corridor, his footsteps echoing on the marble. Senator Redpath was waiting at the turn of the corridor, calmly smoking his cigar. He opened a door marked “No Admittance” as Shayne reached him.

“What kept you, Shayne?” he said.

11:00 A.M.

THEY ENTERED A LOUNGE, FURNISHED WITH LEATHER armchairs and standing ashtrays and the usual array of oil portraits in heavy gilt frames. The Washington and New York papers and loose copies of the Congressional Record lay on a mahogany side table.

“How long a recess do you want?” Redpath said.

“Tell him ten minutes, not that I can do it in that.”

As Redpath opened a door Shayne heard a man’s voice, mechanically amplified, speaking against a confusion of background noises.

“—be happy to answer that question, Senator. Year by year the machinery of government has grown more complex. Before I undertook this assignment from Manners Aerosystems, I will be the first to admit that I knew nothing about the manufacture of military aircraft. And the fact of the matter is, gentlemen, that I know very little about it even now.”

Shayne had paused in the doorway. The big hearing room was flooded with unnaturally bright light, but it took him a moment to make any sense out of the scene. The walls were paneled in marble. There were two great crystal chandeliers. Only a stenotypist, a yard or so from Shayne, was paying any attention to the witness, who must be Sam Toby, Shayne supposed, finally spotting him at one of the crowded tables. He had a pleasure-loving face that probably rarely looked as serious as it did now. He was flanked by lawyers. As he leaned toward the microphone, he gestured with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

The members of the subcommittee, seated behind a curved table above him, made no pretense of listening to what he was saying. Senator Wall was reading his mail, making notes for his secretary at the bottom of each letter. Redpath bent over to whisper to Hitchcock. Hitchcock glanced at the doorway. Seeing Shayne, he frowned.

Shayne stepped back into the lounge and took the lists of names out of the thick envelope Henry Clark had given him. These were people who had rented safe-deposit boxes just before or just after the day Olga Szep stole Mrs. Red-path’s diary. They were arranged alphabetically, and it took him only a moment to find the name he was looking for. He permitted himself a quarter-smile. Sooner or later, according to the law of averages, the luck was bound to start running his way.

In the hearing room, Senator Hitchcock broke into what the witness was saying. “I’ll cut you off right there, Mr. Toby. We’ll resume after a ten minute recess.”

There was a surprised buzz from the crowd. Hitchcock bustled into the lounge.

“Mike Shayne,” he said, shaking hands. “I hope the cameras didn’t catch you in the doorway. This room’s reserved for members of the Senate. There are too many newspapermen out there for the amount of news we’re generating.”

“We may have a story for them,” Shayne said. “But I don’t like to repeat myself, so could we get Toby and a few others in to hear this?”

Hitchcock looked at him soberly. “How important is it, Mike?”

“Damn important. A man has been killed, and a few people ought to know about it before the papers start asking them for a statement. Another thing that’s happened is that a couple of Manners’ thugs tried to pick me up a few minutes ago in the Capitol.”

Shayne showed him the Texas police shield.

“Fletcher, Texas,” Hitchcock said grimly. “That’s Manners, all right. You mean they attempted to pull off a kidnapping
in the Capitol?”

“It’s not a bad place for it. It damn near worked.”

Hitchcock said abruptly, “All right, who besides Toby?”

“Your daughter. Senator Wall, Senator Redpath, Maggie Smith.”

“Maggie? I haven’t seen her. I thought she said she had to go to New York.”

He went back to the hearing room. Senator Redpath came in a moment later with Sam Toby and Trina Hitchcock. Toby’s face now had a carefree expression that seemed more natural to it. He was delighted to meet Shayne. His pleasure seemed genuine, but Shayne was in hopes that it wouldn’t last.

“Can you reach Manners by phone?” Shayne said.

Toby’s eyes became more wary. “Under certain conditions. He’s a strange man.”

“I took a police buzzer off one of his boys. Another one, a big guy named Stevens, took a shot at me in the Senate subway. That’s going to be in the papers unless he can talk me out of it. He’s probably standing by in a parking lot, isn’t he, with a phone in his car?” He pointed out a phone on the side table. “Call him.”

After thinking about alternatives for a moment, the lobbyist consulted a little book and dialled a number.

Hitchcock came in. “Maggie doesn’t seem to be there, Mike.”

Trina cried, “Maggie! Again? I thought that was all taken care of.”

“She changed her mind,” Shayne said, feeling a spurt of apprehension. He had been sure she was not in danger, or he wouldn’t have sent her home to change her clothes.

He rubbed the harsh growth of stubble on his chin. Telling them he would return in a moment, he went out to the corridor and around the corner to the door of the hearing room. Maggie was there, arguing fiercely with one of the guards.

“Mike!” she cried, running to him. “I couldn’t get in!”

“That dress is a great improvement.”

She smiled at him gratefully, and hugged his arm.

“God, Mike, I hope this works. They’re going to be a tough audience.”

“It had better work,” Shayne said.

Senator Wall had joined the others in the lounge. They were all talking in low worried voices. They broke off at once when Shayne came in.

“Did you get Manners?” he asked Toby.

“I got him,” Toby replied. “He may or may not be here. He’s not too predictable.”

Shayne looked around. “If any of you people haven’t been told who I am, my name is Mike Shayne. I’ve been retained by National Aviation to see what I can do about quieting this thing down without offending anybody important.”

“National Aviation!” Trina exclaimed.

“Well, you fired me, didn’t you, Miss Hitchcock? I needed a client, and National didn’t seem to be satisfied with the service they were getting.”

Sam Toby gave an odd little giggle, which he swallowed when Shayne looked at him. Senator Hitchcock, from a position on the arm of the chair nearest the door to the hearing room, put in, “Mike, I only called a ten-minute recess. The networks are covering this live. If we’re going to be out much longer, the courteous thing to do—”

“Let’s not do the courteous thing,” Shayne said brusquely. “It’s going to be news to some of you that an investigator who used to work for this subcommittee was murdered last night. His name was Ronald Bixler. You knew him, didn’t you, Wall?”

Wall’s face was gray. He was moving about jerkily, unable to hold still. “Bixler? We all knew him. Emory, you remember that incompetent little pipsqueak?—Always just about to discover something that would shake Washington to its foundations.
Bixler.
He went with the Civil Service Commission.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Hitchcock said, frowning. “What did he work on for us?”

“It didn’t amount to anything,” Wall said. “He was definitely no ball of fire.”

Trina Hitchcock said, “Sit down, Tom. You’re making us nervous.”

Wall scowled and dropped onto a leather sofa. “So Bixler has been murdered. No doubt that’s a great tragedy to somebody. But he’s had no connection with the subcommittee for years. Get on with it, Shayne.”

Senator Redpath said, “I think it would be better if we let Shayne do this in his own way.”

Hugh Manners entered without knocking, wearing a black suit and a blue shirt with no tie. He looked around the room, checking off faces he knew, his mouth grim and unsmiling. His eyes ended on Shayne.

“Now we have our quorum,” Shayne said. “I hope we’ll come out of this with a deal that will satisfy everybody, or almost everybody, but we all have to understand what we’re up against. What you’re up against, Mr. Manners, is a charge of assault with intent to kill, and I know some Girl Scouts I can use as witnesses.”

“I’ve had a report on that,” Manners said evenly. “I think we’d better talk about it in private.”

“We’ve already tried that. Aren’t you going to offer Manners a chair, Toby?”

Toby hastily started to get up. Manners said coldly, “Stay where you are, Sam.”

“I talked to Mr. Manners last night,” Shayne explained, “and one of the things he said was that he never asked Toby any questions about his methods. He could use women, or bribes, or threats, and Manners didn’t give a goddamn so long as he produced. Anyway, you can’t complain about Toby because the opposition is even worse.”

“You’re way out in left field, Mike,” Toby protested.

“Shut up, Sam,” Manners said.

“I think it’s about time you learned how Toby got you this contract,” Shayne said. “It starts a year ago, when an investigator named Bixler got wind of a certain diary. He figured that if he could get that diary in his possession long enough to make a copy, he’d end up rich. But somebody on the subcommittee or the subcommittee’s staff found out what he was working on and had the same idea, and Bixler found himself in Chicago with a much better job. He didn’t think there was anything strange about this. He knew he deserved a promotion. Somebody else then took over the diary operation.”

“Can you prove any of this?” Wall demanded.

“Hell, no,” Shayne said pleasantly. “And that’s my problem. The maid who actually stole the diary thought she was doing it for Bixler. All the arrangements were made by phone. Now. One of the people who had a good reason for not wanting this diary to be leaked to the papers was an Air Force colonel named Oulihan. One of the things I intend to do is get him busted out of the Air Force. I think he’s the son of a bitch who put a couple of MP’s on me. Make a note of that, somebody. Bust Oulihan, and I’ll feel more cooperative about everything else. Oulihan happened to be in a key position in this contract competition. Manners had put in a bid, but you didn’t stand much of a chance, did you, Manners?”

“Not at that time, no.”

Toby said, “And that’s a big objection to this theory, Shayne. Not that I admit a damn thing, but Manners was too broke to make any kind of substantial payoff. One of the things I’m known for is not doing anything like that on speculation.”

“He paid off in stock,” Shayne said impatiently. “He’d jump at the chance. It was like shooting craps with play money, when everybody else is using real bills. His stock was trading at less than ten bucks a share. If the contract didn’t come through, it wouldn’t be worth a nickel. He’d be glad to lay out ten thousand shares. If it didn’t work, he wouldn’t be any worse off than he already was. But if it did, the stock would boom, and he wouldn’t have to hide any huge cash pay-out in his books. How’s the market this morning, anybody know?”

“We opened at a hundred and fourteen,” Manners said.

“Ten thousand shares times one hundred and fourteen—that’s over a million bucks. And the wonderful thing about it is that everybody stood to benefit, not just the blackmailer. Even Oulihan probably was smart enough to go into the market to pick up a few thousand shares. Toby had to let go of the stock Manners gave him, but I know it’s done wonders for his reputation as a wizard. The only person who wasn’t happy was Bixler. He’d never forgotten that old case he’d been pulled off of. He got himself transferred back to Washington and hunted up the maid who’d told him about the diary in the first place. When I bumped into him last night, he was drunk and talkative. I don’t know how much of what he told me was true. He said he’d sold the maid’s address to Wall, for example, for a sum in excess of two thousand bucks. True or false? Who knows?”

“And of course you can’t give him a lie-detector test because he’s dead,” Wall commented.

Shayne nodded somberly. “The same thing goes for my other big piece of evidence. Bixler was killed near an after-hours bar on Larue Place, and I know where I can put my hands on a witness who saw him getting out of a black and white hardtop. If this witness was sober and churchgoing and a good credit risk, I’d be in clover, but he’s actually a neighborhood drunk, and I’d hate to think how a defense lawyer could cut him up on cross-examination.”

“I own a black and white hardtop,” Wall said, “as I’m sure you know, Shayne. There must be thousands in the city. Anything else?”

“Well, you fit most of the requirements I’ve been looking for, Senator. You could have found out what Bixler was up to last year, and it wouldn’t be hard for you to get him shifted to that Civil Service job. You’re ambitious and tough and you’re willing to cut corners and you like money. Your National Aviation connection would give you the ideal cover. I asked Redpath what he thought of you in this role, and he said it was impossible because you were such a loyal National man. But Henry Clark tells me he’s suddenly beginning to have doubts about your loyalty. You were out till God knows when last night, and if you thought Bixler was a real threat to that million dollars and your job in the Senate, I think you’re capable of killing him. But there’s only one way we could ever prove anything against you, and that’s by finding those ten thousand shares of Manners’ stock.” His eyes were boring into Wall’s. “I have a man going through your rooms at the Park Plaza. Don’t be alarmed—he won’t harm anything. If he doesn’t find anything there, he’ll try a couple of others. Mrs. Redpath, Sam Toby, Trina Hitchcock. Somebody has that stock, and whoever has it is the murderer. Now, I think Maggie Smith has something she wants to say.”

Maggie smiled brightly as the faces turned toward her. She was holding her bag too tightly, Shayne noticed, but that was her only sign of stage fright.