Michael Shayne's Long Chance

Chapter three

At police headquarters Shayne inquired as to the location of Chief McCracken’s office and was directed to an office near the end of a long corridor. The door was slightly ajar, and Shayne knuckled the glass as he pushed it open.

Chief McCracken lifted a face which was smooth and round all the way to the crown of his head where a few wisps of yellowish hair were plastered down. His bald head and colorless brows and lashes gave him a naked look. There were folds of flesh beneath his chin, but he didn’t look soft. He stopped the gurgling of a short-stemmed brier and looked at Shayne without curiosity. He said, “Yes?”

Shayne lounged forward and pushed some papers from a corner of the desk, lowered one hip to the cleared spot, and pulled off his hat. He said, “It’s been nine years, Chief.”

Chief McCracken leaned back in his swivel chair and studied Shayne calmly with cold blue eyes. Then a smile twitched the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward and held out a squarish hand. “By God, you’re Mike Shayne,” he rumbled.

Shayne took his hand in a hearty grip, looked at the stubby brier, and said in a wondering tone, “Nine years and the same goddamned pipe.”

The chief laughed. He pressed a callused forefinger in the bowl and put the stem between his lips, leaned back and clasped his hands over his thick stomach. After the second gurgle, he said, “We’ve been wondering about you, Mike. Heard a lot about your activities in Miami. So they finally ran you out?”

Shayne grinned and lit a cigarette. “I’m in town on business. You’ve done right well, John. I didn’t know an honest cop could get ahead in this town.”

McCracken chuckled. “They haven’t got onto me yet. Don’t tell anybody I’m honest. Going to be around long?”

“I don’t know yet. I closed up shop when I left Miami. I may light here in New Orleans for a while.”

“That’s fine,” said the chief warmly. “Things are just about the same. Come out to the house tonight for dinner.”

“Not tonight, thanks. I’m going to be busy. Thought maybe you could help me out a little, John.”

“Sure. Anything, Mike.”

“If a stranger in the Quarter wanted to pick up a few bindles, who would he see?” Shayne asked.

“You mean—?”

“I mean, who’s running the dope racket in the Quarter?”

“That’s a hell of a question to ask me.”

“Who else would I ask?”

“Unofficially?”

“Sure. Unofficially.”

The chief studied Shayne for a long moment. There was shrewd sympathy and cold-blooded appraisal in his blue eyes. He said, “You’re not experimenting, are you, Mike?”

Shayne laughed and let smoke filter through his nostrils. “Not yet. Take it this way. A gal who has been on the stuff and is trying to stay off hits town cold and holes up in the Quarter. There might be a bastard who wants her back on. He’d be lined in with whatever local lads are supplying the demand right now. I want to cut corners and get to him — if he’s in town.”

Chief McCracken nodded. He knocked a cold heel from his pipe into a wastebasket and refilled the bowl from a can of cheap tobacco. “You wouldn’t know Soule,” he mused. “No — he was after your time. He started peddling it in back alleys and has been working up. We’ve dragged him in plenty, but never got a conviction. I’d say Soule.” He was thoughtful, then suddenly brightened. “Why don’t you have a talk with Denton? That’s his precinct.”

“Denton?” Shayne’s nostrils flared as though the name stunk as it came from his lips.

“Captain Denton.” McCracken stressed the title. “You remember Dolph Denton.”

Shayne said, “Yeh, I remember. He was pounding the Rampart beat that night I got walked out by Masketti’s mob. He found it convenient to look the other way while I took what they dished out.” A muscle twitched in his lean cheek and his gray eyes were bleak.

“That was nine years ago. Dolph’s been coming up since then. He’s got friends at City Hall — and among important people around town.”

Shayne said, “I’ll drop around and talk with him.” He studied the tip of his burning cigarette a moment, then asked, “Soule, eh?”

“Rudy Soule. He may be hard to reach, but Denton might be able to line things up for you. You know how those things go, Mike.”

“I have a hunch how they’re going with Dolph Denton running the Quarter.” Shayne’s voice was hard. “Hell, he’s the guy I’ll do my talking to.” He lifted himself from the desk. “Thanks a lot, John.”

“Don’t mention it, Mike. If you can make it out to dinner tonight—”

“I’m working. Some other night. Give Mrs. McCracken my regards.”

“Sure. Come any time. And don’t throw too much weight at Denton,” the chief warned. “He can help you if you handle him right.”

Shayne said, “I don’t doubt he’s got a payoff list of every fink in the Quarter. Be seeing you.”

Half an hour later Shayne was ushered into Captain Dolph Denton’s private office by a hulking sergeant. The office was located in the rear of the precinct station, and Denton was talking on the telephone.

A fat cigar filled one corner of his mouth and he cursed into the mouthpiece on the other side. He ended with: “No! And that’s final.” He slammed the instrument down hard, growled, “All right, Parks. What is it now?” after wasting only a fleeting glance on the tall redhead.

“This man says he’s an old friend of yours, Captain. I told him you were busy, but he said he had to see you.” Denton chewed on the cigar and stared at Shayne from beneath bushy black brows. He stopped chewing on the cigar and said, “Okay, Parks.” He waved the sergeant from the room and barked at Shayne, “I thought we’d seen the last of you when Masketti ran you out of town.”

“I came back to congratulate you on your promotion, Captain.” Shayne rubbed his angular jaw, then pulled up a chair and sat in front of the desk. “I suppose you got your start by looking the other way on Rampart that evening. Masketti pulled a lot of weight in those days.”

“Masketti still pulls a lot of weight.” The flat words were a warning.

Shayne ignored the warning. “And you’re still looking the other way when you figure it’s worth while.”

“To hell with that stuff, Shayne,” Denton growled.

Shayne said, “All right. To hell with it. I want a line on the boys who deal the junk off the elbow here in the Quarter.”

Denton scowled and asked, “Working?”

“Sort of.”

“What’s your angle?”

“Put it this way,” said Shayne. “If a stranger was looking for dope in the Quarter, where would he go?”

“That’s a hell of a question—”

“To ask you?” Shayne interrupted with a grin. “Who should know more about it than the precinct captain?”

“You won’t get very far pulling one of your fast ones here, Shayne.” Denton’s black eyes were angry and his black mustache wriggled as he worked the cigar to the other corner of his mouth.

Shayne said evenly, “This isn’t a fast one. I’m not the Chamber of Commerce. I know how things are run in this town — and every other town. Either you make it easy for me or I make it tough on you.”

Denton said furiously, “You left New Orleans once with your tail between your legs.”

“And now I’m back — and I’m not wagging it for you.” Shayne leaned back and continued easily, “I’m harder to take than I was nine years ago, Denton. Tell Masketti that if he’s interested.”

“Masketti,” said Denton, “won’t be interested. He’s a big-shot contractor now. Government jobs.”

Shayne said, “To hell with Masketti. Let’s forget all this old stuff. All I want is a little information.”

Denton’s heavy brows drew apart and the scowl went away. He said heartily, “That’s all right, then. What kind of job you working on?”

“Girl stuff. She’s new here. She’s been a hoppy and may be getting back on it. I want to find out whether she’s made any contacts in that direction.”

“Wait a minute.” Denton stabbed his soggy cigar butt at Shayne. “Sounds like the same record I heard yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Shayne’s red brows shot upward.

“Yeh. There was a fellow in here asking the same line of questions. Says he’s trying to locate a girl living here under a phony name. Figures she might have tried to buy some stuff and he can get a line that way. I gave him the brush-off, naturally.”

“Why did he want to find the girl?”

“Claimed he was her uncle. Name of Drake or something like that. I dunno. You know how it is. You get a hunch. Mine was that he wasn’t leveling. Something screwy about it.”

Shayne sat up a little straighter. He asked, “Can you describe the man?”

Denton’s lids dropped over his black eyes for a moment and he drummed stubby finger tips on the desk. “Didn’t pay much attention,” he muttered. “Bald headed. Fifty, maybe.”

“Sloppy clothes?”

“No. That was something. Dressed up like a Christmas tree — spats and all. Not loud, see. Like he had a valet, maybe, to fix him up. The way you and me couldn’t look if we spent a grand on one outfit.”

“Name was Drake?”

“Yeh. Think so. Look, does this bird tie in with what you’re looking for?”

“He might,” Shayne said slowly. “Did you take him for a dope-head?”

“N-No. Hell, you know how it is. Nobody can pick one for sure. Not that kind. The punks, sure. The ghouls that hit it steady. But him — I dunno. Why? Do you think he was giving me a line? Trying to work me for a line on where to buy the stuff?”

Shayne grinned slowly at Denton’s wrath. “I doubt whether he was after that, but if he’s the guy I think he was, he didn’t intend any good for the girl he was trying to find. You know where I can find Drake?”

“I believe he said he was at the Angelus Hotel if I got anything for him.”

“The Angelus,” Shayne repeated. “And now, how about Soule?”

“Rudy Soule? I thought you’d been out of town for nine years.”

Shayne said, “I have, but I just had a talk with John McCracken.”

“And he told you that Soule and me was like that?” Denton extended his right hand with the first two fingers fitted snugly together.

Shayne shook his head and said placidly, “He mentioned Soule’s name and said this was your precinct.”

“Well, I hear things, of course,” Captain Denton admitted. “Maybe Soule is in the racket. I wouldn’t know.”

“All I want,” Shayne explained, “is to get a line on the setup. A word from you in the right direction might help.”

“The hell you say,” Denton snarled. His heavy features were suddenly contorted with rage. “The chief sent you, huh? And I’m supposed to fall for that. I’ve had enough of his stoolies trying to hang something on me. Get out — and stay out of my precinct, Shayne. Think up a better story than the one you just handed me before you come back.” Denton jabbed a button on his desk. He was breathing hard and his face was very red.

Shayne said, “I’d watch that blood pressure if I were you, Captain Denton.”

Sergeant Parks and a patrolman came in.

Denton snarled, “Take a good look at this redhead. He’s an out-of-town shamus stooling around our precinct to hang something on us. Show him the way out and pass the word along that if anything happens to him there won’t be any comeback.”

Shayne stood up. His eyes were bleak with anger and his teeth showed between drawn lips. He said, “If that’s the way you want it, Denton.”

Denton said, “Don’t be too rough with him here in the station, boys.”

Shayne started out. The sergeant and the patrolman got out of his way as he stalked past them with long-legged strides. He heeled the door shut behind him and went out past the desk into the open air.