Date with a Dead Man

5

She caught hold of his hand excitedly as he reached the top, pulled him back with her through an open French door into a large bedroom that was childishly girlish in its appointments. It was all pink and white, with delicate rosebuds on the wallpaper, ruffled skirts on the vanity table matching the cretonne bedspread and window curtains.

Beatrice stopped in the center of the room and turned to look at him, cocking her head on one side and demurely inserting the tip of the little finger of her left hand into her mouth. She said, “You know what?”

Shayne asked gravely, “What?”

“You make me feel all gurgly inside.” She giggled naughtily and turned aside to a low bookcase where she pulled out two books and groped in the back to bring out a pint whisky bottle a little more than half full. She worried the cork out with her teeth and presented the bottle to Shayne in much the manner of a little girl offering a playmate her favorite doll.

“You’ll have to take it straight,” she told him matter-of-factly. “It’s too much trouble to sneak ice and mixers up here.”

Shayne put the bottle to his mouth and swallowed a couple of times without letting much liquor trickle down his throat. He passed it back to her and she drank deeply, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and said delightedly, “More damn fun.”

In the light from the open window behind her there was an abrasive hardness about her features that surprised Shayne. He realized, of course, that she was older than her brother Albert, and had been married for several years to the unpleasant-looking young man whom he had encountered downstairs, but in the half-light below he had gained the impression of retarded physical development. Now a hot light gleamed in her slate-gray eyes and she moved closer to him to confide, “If I didn’t keep a bottle stashed away where I could hit it once in a while I’d go nuts cooped up here.”

Shayne moved back from her to a slipper chair at the foot of the wide bed and sat down. He said casually, “You’re Albert Hawley’s sister, aren’t you?”

A faint frown creased her forehead. “I was. But Albert’s dead.” She sat on an ottoman a few feet in front of him with her feet placed too wide apart for grace and with the whisky bottle dangling from her hand. “Mother’s a tough old witch to live with. Gerald’s sort of precious, but he bores hell out of me sometimes.”

“Your husband?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long have you been living here with your mother?”

“Couple of years now. Waiting for Uncle Ezra to die so I could collect my share of the estate.” She giggled unexpectedly and for no good reason that Shayne could discern.

He asked gravely, “Can’t your husband support you?”

“I guess he could but why should he bother?” She took another drink from the bottle, held it out toward Shayne but he shook his red head. “Uncle Ezra had millions,” she went on indifferently. “He stole it all from Dad and now he doles out just enough to Mother to keep this damned old monstrosity of a house going.”

“How did your uncle steal your father’s money?” Shayne asked patiently.

“They were in business together. When Dad died there wasn’t anything left of his share. Mr. Hastings explained all about it to us. He explains things like that very well.” She tilted her head to one side and thrust the tip of her tongue out between her lips. “You want to kiss me?”

“Not right now,” Shayne told her. “So now your uncle’s dead and you get all those millions he stole from your father?”

“That’s just it.”

“What’s just it?”

“Why I wanted to talk to you. He left every damned cent of it to Albert.”

“But Albert is dead.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She was getting impatient with him. “After all these years of waiting we get cut off without a cent. It isn’t fair,” she ended sadly like a little girl who has been denied a piece of candy.

“You mean his wife will inherit?”

“That’s right. Believe it or not he left a will giving her everything even after she divorced him just because he was being drafted into the army.”

Shayne sat up very straight. “I didn’t know Albert was divorced.”

“Didn’t you? They kept it mighty quiet because it didn’t look good. Like maybe they just got married in the first place to try and keep him out of the draft and then got divorced when it didn’t work. Which is probably just about the way it was, but then I don’t see why he turned right around and made out a will leaving her everything even with the stipulation that it didn’t matter whether she remarried or not. Sure you don’t want to kiss me… or a drink?”

Shayne said, “Let’s get our talking done first.”

“Then I’ll take one.” She tilted the bottle to her mouth again, and when she lowered it this time there was little of the half-pint left.

“But when he made that will, I assume he didn’t know Ezra was going to leave everything to him.”

Beatrice said, “Maybe not. I never thought about it before.”

“Did she remarry?”

“Of course she did,” said Beatrice scornfully. “Right after she got her divorce in Reno. With the hot pants she always wore, you can bet she needed a man after being married to Albert for a few months.” She emptied the bottle and dropped it on the floor beside her and stood up, swaying a little. “Why don’t we lie down on the bed? I know just how it was with Matie because Gerald and Albert are two of a kind if you know what I mean.” She moved close to him and held down both her hands to his.

Shayne looked toward the bedroom door and said, “Suppose your husband comes in and finds us?”

She giggled and said, “I can lock the door if you’re afraid of that.” She started toward the door and stopped when it opened and Gerald walked in. He stopped when he saw his wife and Shayne together in the bedroom, but evinced no surprise.

He said, “I saw your car still parked in the driveway and thought you might be up here. Mother won’t like it… you talking to him this way,” he added reprovingly to Beatrice.

“How dare you barge in my bedroom without knocking?” she demanded. “Get out and stay out.”

“It’s my bedroom too,” he told her mildly. “Mother will be angry if…”

“Get out!” she stormed at him, advancing with clenched fists.

“All right. But you’d better lock the door behind me.” Gerald Meany turned around and went out.

“You see?” she said triumphantly to Shayne. “I told you he didn’t care what I do. He just married me in the first place because he thought I was rich.”

“And now you’re not?”

A look of cunning came into her eyes. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. That’s why I went out of the room first and waited on the balcony to call to you.”

“Then let’s talk while we have the chance,” suggested Shayne, “instead of lying on the bed.”

“But now you’re here, that’s what I want to do,” she pouted.

“I think we should finish our talking first. What’s really on your mind?”

“As if you can’t guess,” she giggled. Then she sobered and slitted her eyes at him. “Well, you are a private detective, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You do go around finding people and things like that?”

“Many things like that,” Shayne agreed.

“Well then. You’ve got to find those two men who were on the life raft when Albert died. I know one of them was that man Jasper Groat who didn’t come to see me last night after I invited him. And there was another one, the newspapers said.” She put her little finger in her mouth and sucked on it. “Can you find him?”

“I might. Why?”

“Don’t you see? Because the newspapers said four or five days, that’s why. But they didn’t say which.”

“Four or five days what?” Shayne asked gently.

“Before Albert died in the boat. Don’t you see how important it is? Mr. Hastings explained it all very carefully this morning. We didn’t know that it really mattered before that, you see? Not until he read Uncle Ezra’s will this morning and explained it all to us.”

“Exactly what did he explain?”

“How it is because Uncle Ezra died ten days ago… five days after the airplane went down with Albert on it. If he only lived four days on the raft, then he was already dead when Uncle Ezra died and the money comes to us. But if he was still alive when Uncle Ezra kicked the bucket, then that means he legally inherits everything and then that bitchy ex-wife of his gets it all. Everything depends on whether Albert lived four or five days on the life raft.”

“And you want me to get hold of the two witnesses and find out from them definitely whether it was four or five days?” said Shayne slowly, adding things up in his own mind and finally coming up with an answer that made sense.

“Well… get hold of them at least and get them to say it was only four days. You could do that, couldn’t you? If I was your client? If they understood how important it was…?”

“You mean bribe them to say it was only four days even if Albert really did survive for five days?”

Beatrice caught her lip between her teeth and chewed on it, tilting her head calculatingly at Shayne. “What’s wrong with that? The money really belongs to us. Certainly not to Matie… after she divorced him and went off and married another man… even if he was damn fool enough to fix it that way in his will. You can offer them plenty to say it was four days. There’s a couple of million altogether, I guess.”

Shayne shrugged and kept his face impassive. He said, “It’s a thought. Of course, you don’t know yet whether a bribe is needed. Maybe it was only four days… and all they’d have to do is tell the truth.”

“That’s what Mr. Hastings said this morning. But before they find out how important that extra day is, suppose they come right out and say five? Don’t you see why I want you to fix it for us? There’s no use talking to Mother or Gerald about it,” she went on disdainfully. “They don’t understand about things like this. They’d have ethics or something.” She practically spat out the word “ethics.” “But I can tell you’re not like that.” She sidled close to him, stood rubbing her hip against his shoulder and looking down at him with her mouth half-open.

Shayne said, “Maybe we can make a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“Maybe I can help you out if you’ll do something for me.”

She giggled and rubbed her hip harder against his shoulder. “You know I’ll do anything you want, Michael Shayne.”

“Then tell me about Leon Wallace.”

She stopped moving her hip and her mouth closed slowly. “Leon Wallace?” she repeated stupidly. “You mean the gardener?”

“Who worked here on the grounds about a year ago,” Shayne amplified. “What became of him?”

A look of cunning replaced the stupidity on her face. “I never did know… really. Something funny, though. He just wasn’t here at work one morning. That’s really why I wanted to talk to Mr. Groat last night.”

“Why?”

“Because he said he knew all about Leon Wallace. I’ve always wondered, so I told him to come out and tell me. But he never did.”

Shayne considered this a moment, wondering whether to believe her or not. “Then you didn’t ask Groat out just to find out when Albert died?”

“I didn’t know how much it mattered then,” she explained patiently. “Not until this morning when Mr. Hastings explained it.”

“What sort of man was Leon Wallace?”

She pouted her lips consideringly and put the end of her little finger in her mouth. Her hip began moving back and forth rhythmically against Shayne’s shoulder. “He was pretty,” she said with sudden enthusiasm, as though she had just remembered.

“Did you like him?”

“Sure I did. Who wouldn’t? But he wouldn’t hardly look at me. Not with Matie chasing after him the way she did.”

“Albert’s wife?”

“Uh-huh. It was right after he went away that she went off to Reno to get her divorce.”

Shayne considered this bit of information for a moment. “Was Albert jealous of them?”

“Him?” Her voice became venomously scornful. “If he was he certainly never dared show it in front of Matie. She had him right under her thumb, I can tell you. Now why don’t we just go to bed for a little while?” she ended plaintively.

Shayne sighed and stood up. He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Not here in your house, Beatrice. As much as I’d like to,” he lied. “Give me a raincheck, huh?”

“You’re mean,” she pouted as he released her and turned away to the balcony.

He said grimly over his shoulder, “It’s just that I never did like to foul another man’s bed.” He stepped out into the hot sunlight and hurried down the iron stairs to get into his car and leave the decaying old mansion behind him.