Mermaid on the Rocks

chapter 7

Shayne dropped onto the sofa, where he uncorked the gin bottle and took a long drink, after which he rolled up his pant leg to look at the damage.

It wasn’t as bad as he had feared. He went to the bathroom, where he found nothing more elaborate than band-aids in the medicine cabinet. He tore up a sheet, washed the cut as well as he could without being able to see it, and was binding it up when he heard a tapping at the outer door.

He unlocked it without bothering to use the peephole. It was Kitty, wearing Shayne’s jacket, which came down nearly to her knees. She looked lost inside it.

“I locked myself out,” she said faintly. “I went up to the roof.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, seeing the trailing bandage.

“It’s not too bad. It’s just a hell of a place to get to.”

“I’ll do it.”

They returned to the bathroom. Kitty pushed back the long sleeves, took Shayne’s clumsy bandage apart and put on a better one, which stopped the bleeding. Using a wet towel, she sponged off his back and shoulder. Her touch was deft and sure.

“You can use a few stitches, Mike. In your leg, mainly. These cuts up here can take care of themselves.”

Using cotton at the end of a short stick, she sponged the cuts carefully with antiseptic. He was straddling a chair while she worked on him from behind.

“If I’d known what I was getting you into!” she said. “First I all but drown you. Then I win your money and more or less force you to make love to me. And right in the middle of that I get you involved in a knife fight with a crazy old man.” She gave a light nervous laugh. “I was so scared! I couldn’t make out what happened at the end. Was that a policeman who shot him?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they’re around when you need them. Not often, but sometimes.”

“He was staggering.”

“He had to jump from the fire escape,” Shayne explained. “I think he fell on his knife. All the emergency switches were turned on by then, and when the cops told him to hold still and explain the knife, all he could do was run. Now I want you to hold still, Kitty. I need an explanation of a couple of things.”

Her hand stopped on his back. “Yes. About me and Cal. You want to know if what Brad said was true. Yes, Mike. More or less.” She sighed. “It lasted for-oh, about half a year. I got in the habit of denying it, and that’s one subject it’s too easy to lie about. I wasn’t ashamed of it at the time. I am now, a little. I don’t need to be told it was the wrong thing to do. I’ve tried to understand why it happened, but you’d have to know Cal. He made me feel so-important, Mike. I thought it was love. There were other things mixed up in it.”

Her voice was dry and flat. “And that’s why I don’t want to let those zombies sell the Key! They didn’t give a damn for Cal when he was alive. Now all they care about is how much money they can squeeze out of the one thing that ever really mattered to him. Mike? Say something. You can see why I didn’t tell you.”

“People don’t usually tell me the truth the first time they talk to me,” Shayne said dryly. “Did you go to see Ev Tuttle the night he burned to death?”

She answered quietly. “Yes. He lost his only income when Cal died. I gave him money sometimes when I had it. He phoned me from a bar that night and I met him there, a seedy little bar on the other side of the river. I gave him a few dollars and he used it to get drunk So indirectly perhaps I’m responsible for what happened. If he hadn’t been drunk, he wouldn’t have fallen asleep with a cigarette in his mouth.”

“Did you go to his room with him?”

“Certainly not. He lived in a terrible hotel. I wouldn’t have dreamed of it.”

“I need the truth this time, Kitty.”

“That is the truth,” she said. “I don’t know what Brad meant about a witness. As far as I know there was never any question that it was an accident.”

“He started to say something about gold. I couldn’t catch it.”

“I don’t know what that was all about. Unless he thinks he’s located that Spanish treasure ship. But what connection could it have with the sale to Florida-American? It’s beyond me.”

Shayne stood up and looked at his watch. “I think you’d better stay with Natalie the rest of the night.”

“Mike”-she hesitated-“I know you have to go to the doctor, but won’t you come back?”

He didn’t reply. He was looking around at the chaos in the bedroom. “What the hell was the point of these dirty playing cards?”

He picked up several of the cards which Brad had flung on the bed. They were dog-eared and grubby. The pictures on the backs were the usual black-and-white photographs of naked men and women practicing various perversions, without seeming to be enjoying themselves. The quality of the photography was extremely poor.

Seeing something else amid the litter, he picked up a cheap pocket comb, gummy with hair grease, the tines partially clogged with dandruff. Several long black hairs adhered to the grease. He sniffed it and made a face.

“It’s a mean one, Kitty,” he said. “These are all props for a sex killing. You can see how he wanted it to look. The killer wouldn’t be some anonymous creep who was looking for a door he could force. Your door wasn’t forced. To the cops that would mean it had to be somebody you brought home yourself. The comb was the kicker. They’d look for a youth with black hair. Probably a Cuban.”

She put her arms around him from behind. “Mike, Mike, I wish-” She paused. “One of the things I wish is that I’d come in your bedroom half an hour sooner. I know we can’t do anything about it now, everything’s so horrible. But I wish you’d come back. Please. I’ll clean up this mess and make the place look halfway habitable, and the hell with everybody! I don’t see how they can hurt me now.”

He turned and took her by the shoulders. “Neither do I. But I want to make sure. There are three of you left. You, Shanahan, Cal’s daughter Barbara. Brad knew you’re planning to leave town in the morning. Barbara must have called him right after you called her. While she was telling him that, did she also tell him to give you a final chance to sell, and to kill you if you refused? Someone was watching the building earlier tonight from across the street. That means it was underway before your phone call to Barbara. These are all things we need to know, Kitty. I have to talk to Barbara about it, and it won’t work unless I do it tonight.”

“But why would she admit anything?” Kitty said, puzzled. “Why would she even see you? You won’t get there before four.”

“I will if I fly. Call her and see what she says.”

For a moment Kitty continued to look in his eyes, her face serious and questioning. Then she nodded. “Mike, do you know you’re absolutely the most-well, all I hope is that you’ll call me after I get back from New York. What do you want me to do?”

He told her. She went to the phone in the living room and dialed a number. A moment after giving the operator her own number, a voice answered.

“Eda Lou!” Kitty exclaimed. “I didn’t want to wake you up. This is Kitty Sims. You’re going to feel like shooting me, but I have to talk to Barbara.”

The voice interrupted.

Kitty said, “I do know what time it is, and I’m not drunk. Be an angel. Tell her I wouldn’t be calling unless it was something important. It’s about signing over my share in the Key. She honestly won’t mind.”

Kitty covered the mouthpiece and said to Shayne, “The housekeeper, Mrs. Parchman. She’s been a fixture for decades. A nice crusty old biddy, very unphony.” Uncovering the mouthpiece, she said, “Barbara. I know this is no time of night, but I have to ask you a favor. Now don’t say no right away until I tell you about it. You’ve heard about Michael Shayne, the private detective.”

She listened a moment.

“That’s the one,” she said with a smile at Shayne, who was putting on his shirt on the other side of the room. “And I assure you he lives up to his reputation. He’s with me right now, as a matter of fact.”

There was a quick squawking from the phone.

Kitty said, “Yes, I’m calling from my apartment. Scandalous, isn’t it? Here I am not even properly divorced, with a strange man in my room. What would my ex-husband say? No,” she said seriously, “it’s not as bad as it sounds. I asked him up and I’ve been telling him my troubles over a friendly glass. I must say he’s been sympathetic. Frankly, Barbara, something happened to my cat last weekend that gave me a bad jolt. I’m uneasy about being alone. I’ve explained the Key Gaspar thing to him, as far as I know it. I’m baffled by quite a bit of it, actually. He wants to know if he can come down and talk to you.”

Barbara asked a question.

“Yes, right now. I’ve tried to talk him out of it and when you see what he looks like you’ll know why. But when he gets an idea in his head-What it amounts to, Barbara, I know I told Brad I wouldn’t sell under any circumstances, but now I’m having second thoughts like mad. Discretion the better part of valor and so on. Mike seems to be leaning in the same direction. I think in the end I’ll take his advice, but he doesn’t want to make any firm recommendation before he knows all the facts. So if you’d be willing to see him-”

She listened.

“He’ll leave right away and fly down,” Kitty said. “Don’t ask me where he expects to find a helicopter at this ungodly hour, but he thinks he can arrange it. I left the VW on Goose Key and he can use that. If everything works out he can be there in three-quarters of an hour. I know it’s asking a lot, but conceivably he’ll advise me to sell, and isn’t that what you want? I’m having breakfast with him in the morning before I go. Yes. All right, fine. Be nice to him. I’ve been giving him whiskey, but he’ll enjoy the visit more if you break out a bottle of Cal’s cognac. He’s not an easy man to get drunk, however, as I’ve been in the process of finding out.”

She hung up triumphantly.

“Mike, you were absolutely right! You should have heard the gulp when I said I had you here in my apartment.” She made a busy gesture beside her forehead. “I could hear the little cogs turning. She knew what Brad was up to, all right! I’ll bet that sex-killing angle was her idea!” She gave a small joyful hoot, stifling it as quickly as it had come. “I’m actually gloating! Well, I don’t think I’ll shed any tears over Brad. He deserved it. He really and truly did. And I’m not out of the woods yet, am I?”

“Maybe,” Shayne said briefly, putting on his shoes. “It depends on how greedy they are.”

“Oh, they’re greedy, but they also have to be a little realistic. Mike, give her the idea that you’re coming straight back here to report-she’ll put on an all-night filibuster. Who knows? She might even try to seduce you.” She looked at him speculatively. “She isn’t bad-looking, you know.”

“This is my night for good-looking women,” Shayne said noncommittally. “Call Natalie. If Tim’s there, let me talk to him.”

He returned to the bedroom to look for the. 38. He searched that room and the bathroom, and he still hadn’t found it after following Brad’s trail to the kitchen. Apparently the old man had managed to take it with him.

Kitty called him and held out the phone. “Big surprise. Tim’s still there.”

Shayne took the phone. “Something I want you to do, Tim.”

“Sure. You just caught me going out the door. We were looking at the late movie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shayne said impatiently. “I’m in a hurry. Things have been happening-I’ll fill you in later. There’s going to be a story for you, with some fairly big names. I’m flying back down to Gaspar. I want you to call me at Barbara’s at exactly three. As soon as I’m on start talking fast and keep talking. I don’t care what you say. I want the lady to get the idea you’re telling me some bad news, such as that a client of mine has been found in bed with her throat cut.”

“Ugh.”

“Just don’t fall asleep before three,” Shayne told him. “I’m bringing Kitty over to spend the rest of the night with Natalie.”

“Mike!” Rourke protested. “Without going into detail, that’s not such a hot idea.”

“I thought you said you were just going out the door,” Shayne said, grinning. “We’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up before Rourke could say anything more. “Now I suppose you’re going to want your jacket,” Kitty said with a glint.

“Yeah. Can you get dressed fast, Kitty? I have two more phone calls.”

He called the house doctor in a downtown hotel and told him to get a needle and thread ready. Then he roused an old friend named Jeremy Blakey, a helicopter pilot who was paid a monthly retainer by the detective, in return for which he was always on twenty-four-hour call. Shayne told him to meet him at the Watson Park heliport, and not to expect to be back to Miami before breakfast.