Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 12, No. 6, May 1963

Who’d want to kill a ninety-year old man just because he was worth millions? Mike Shayne’s defense against murder turned up a couple of rank amateurs playing a deadly game.

I

When he reached the highway, Michael Shayne pointed the nose of his car north and increased his speed to eighty miles an hour. The long white ribbon of concrete before him lay washed and new in the bright Miami sunlight. Visibility was perfect. Green rows of palm trees bordered the distant horizon.

Shayne wrinkled his eyes against the glare, fished out a cigarette and thought about Hat Raymond. It was a helluva long way to go to see a client.

The oldest living male resident of Florida had phoned him early that morning. The voice on the long distance line had been crackling, sere and ancient. Like a wheeze from the past. Shayne had been surprised that Hat Raymond was still alive.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Raymond?”

“From what I hear about you — plenty, son.” A pleasant Southern accent tinged Hat Raymond’s dry voice. “Fact is, I need a smart young feller to do some investigating for me, Shayne.”

“That so?”

“Yes. Somebody seems to have some ideas about killing old Hat.”

Hat Raymond sounded vinegary and hard-boiled. “I heard about you too, Hat,” Shayne said. “You once shot a man by way of expressing your disapproval of the way he was fleecing farmers.”

“That was way back — almost fifty years ago,” the old man roared. “And damn justifiable. Why, in those times, a man had to hang onto what was his like it was his last pair of shoes. That’s a fact, but — I didn’t call you to talk about that, did I?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Raymond’s voice fell a register. “Shayne, you willing to come out to my place for a talk? It’s too much of a trip for me to go to Miami. And I’m thinking maybe I could use you right away.”

“It’s my business,” Shayne said. “But perhaps you ought to go the local law if you suspect someone is trying to harm you.”

“No,” the old man said, firmly. “Not yet. That’s why I want to see you first. I can pay. It’s worth a lot to me to ease my mind. I’m lame some. Sprained this leg of mine just two days ago. It could have been an accident but—” The voice got cautious. “I’d like it fine if you drove out, Shayne. Point Lomar. Know where that is?”

“I think so,” Shayne said. A good seventy miles from his Flagler Street office. Two hour drive. “What time?”

“Soon as you can make it. This won’t keep. Fact is, I’m expecting my granddaughter and her husband back from Tampa this evening and I’d sure like to clear this business up before they get here.”

“All right,” Shayne said. “I’ll leave in about a half an hour.” He checked his wrist watch. “Look for me about twelve thirty. That should do it. Anything else you want to tell me now?”

Hat Raymond chuckled.

“Nothing I tell you now would do anything for you. You have to talk to me first. See the place where the railing on the portico was busted. Then you can tell me. You’re bright, Shayne. I heard how bright you were. That’s why I want you. I think maybe you could help me and make yourself a pretty dollar while you’re doing it.”

“Fair enough, Hat. I’ll be seeing you.”

“And don’t forget your gun, Shayne.”

With no more than that and a click of the receiver at the other end of the line, Hat Raymond had hung up.

Shayne had sat at his desk in the office for a full five minutes, smoking a cigarette and thinking. His angular body and rangy shoulders hunched speculatively. He was well inured to the type of client who called up and talked of threats and attempts of murder. Sometimes, it was pure imagination, distilled by too many TV shows and lurid paperbacks. With an old man, there was never any telling, either. Still, Shayne had been a detective too long not to know that in a world of violence and greed, all inhumane things were sooner or later possible.

Anyhow, Shayne respected the oldest living male resident in Florida.

After the phone call, Shayne had briefed himself on Hat Raymond before setting out on the long drive. A call to Timothy Rourke of the Miami Daily News had been a gold mine as always. It was nice to have a newspaperman for a friend.

“Hat Raymond!” Rourke said. “The old gent dates back to the Seminoles. When this whole area was mostly swamp and jungle. That old timer hung onto land until he was a corner on real estate. No telling how much he’s worth now. You know how the Miami area is booming yearly. An inch of earth is worth more than uranium. I’ll bet he’s worth a few million right now as old as he is.”

“How old would that be, Tim?”

“Ninety if he’s a day. He came down from Georgia someplace and settled here way back when. Tried to find gold or the Fountain of Youth or something. But he hung onto his acres and I’ll bet Point Lomar is almost all his as far as the eye can see. With all the buildings gone up around there in the last ten years, the old boy must be worth a mint.”

“Why do they call him Hat?”

Timothy Rourke laughed. “It’s a bit of the Old South, Mike. He once shot the hat off a guy who didn’t take his lid off when he passed a lady. Became a legend up at Point Lomar. Hat Raymond’s first name was something like Ebenezer.”

“Gentleman of the old school, huh?”

“Hat Raymond is the old school, Mike.”

Shayne’s rangy body grew restive behind the wheel. The road was racing by as the car gobbled up miles. Hat Raymond’s strange call filled Shayne’s mind. His thoughts were full of oldtimers, Florida’s history and how the land had changed since the old man’s time. Modern buildings springing up all over the good green Florida soil; the population boom that had reached astronomical figures. Progress was rolling on, leaving the Hat Raymonds behind. Man, was indeed, not as permanent as concrete nor as durable as a palm tree.

Point Lomar sprawled ahead. Tall, white buildings formed on the horizon. As small as the area was, one had the impression of entering a vestpocket edition of a city. Before he reached the white billboards that proclaimed entrance, a fork in the highway proudly announced Point Lomar.

Shayne took the cut, finding a climbing road that left the Atlantic at his back. Through a mass of trees, he spied the house. It was a ranch type edifice set on a rise overlooking Point Lomar. Shayne shifted into low gear and cruised up to the sun-drenched lawn that bordered the place.

He realized how quiet everything was when he cut the engine. Silence settled over the scene. A hawk cried in the trees behind the house. Shayne dismounted and walked quickly toward the gate. There was no one in sight. He had rather expected the old man to be sitting on the portico in a wheel chair or a rocker, waiting for him.

There were screens on all the windows and the front door hung open. Shayne, vaguely curious, hurried his step.

He nearly stumbled over the old man’s body at the base of the steps leading up to the portico. He halted, his eyes taking in a quick survey of the scene.

Hat Raymond, if indeed it was he, was lying crumpled on the ground. A trickle of blood was coursing down the leathery old face.

But Hat Raymond was still breathing — and alive.

Mike Shayne bent over him quickly, his irritation dissolving into genuine anger.

II

The old man said feebly, “No, no doctors, Shayne,” when he finally came awake. Shayne’s first aid had consisted mainly of cold water, wrist-rubbing and moving Hat Raymond onto the portico where a lounge served as a place to lie down. “Cowards. Sneaking up on an old man and hitting him from behind. They’ll kill me yet.”

Shayne had not missed the broken section of portico railing. A splintered rail of wood dangled crazily. “Easy, Hat. It’s only a bump but don’t stir yourself.”

“You are Shayne?” Raymond rubbed his head, winced and cocked an eye at his rescuer. His face was as leathery and timeless as the Florida sands.

Shayne nodded, eyes surveying the portico.

“Tell me what you remember, Hat. If you don’t want a doctor, you must be up to questions. Did you see anything at all?”

“Ahhh!” The old man looked sour. “They can’t kill an old duffer like me. I was out here, waiting on you, figuring it was high time you showed and powie, something hit me.”

“Were you alone in the house?”

“Course I was. Didn’t I tell you Effie and Tod were coming back tonight from Tampa?”

“Sure you did,” Shayne said kindly. “Your granddaughter and her husband. Just checking! I see the broken railing but maybe you’d better get to your reason for wanting me to come. It looks like you might need some protection at that.”

The old man shuddered. “Should have had my hat on. That bump hurts some. Well, Shayne, I need you all right. What about a drink?”

“Later,” Shayne said patiently. “I want to hear your story first.”

“Impatient cuss, huh?” Hat Raymond chuckled. “I figured as much. Okay, here’s the picture. I made out a new will leaving all my money, and it’s considerable, to my granddaughter. That’s Effie. You’ll see her later, and that new husband of her’s. That’s Tod Bascom. Which is all right with me — I’m glad to see Effie married. But you see, Shayne, I started writing her about six months ago and then told her about the will.

“Before I knew it,” the old man was scowling, “she’d gotten married and came down here with her husband to live with me. I didn’t invite them — but I didn’t mind. I figured it would give me a chance to make up to my granddaughter for all the years we’ve been apart.” Hat Raymond paused, slightly crestfallen.

“Don’t stop now,” Shayne urged gently.

The old man’s face hardened. “That’s what bothers me. It was their idea to come live with me after I told Effie about the will. She never cared before about me. Hadn’t heard from her for ten years — that was when her mother died. I think she blamed me for that somehow. It’s just peculiar that’s all. Me busting my leg on that porch and now getting hit over the head like this. And what’s the use telling you about the other couple of times. I’d hate to think my granddaughter had anything to do with them. It has to be that husband of hers who’s in back of it all.”

“You really think it’s Tod Bascom?”

Raymond spanked his thigh. “That’s just it, Shayne. I’m trying to be fair about this — but I want to know for sure. I can’t help feeling he’s a fortune hunter who married Effie because of the will. But according to them, they were married six months ago, before I told her about the will. Still, when they showed up here awhile back to live with me, I started worrying about it. Especially after what’s been happening to me. And now this porch business and last week somebody left the motor running in the garage!”

Shayne tugged at his earlobe. “You could be mistaken and all of this could be just accidental.”

“Not when the garage door shuts behind you and you got to break it down to save your neck. But you’re the detective, aren’t you? It’s up to you to figure out if they’re fixing to stir up some trouble. Right?”

“You mean like killing you to collect the inheritance?”

“Why not?” The old man said. “There’s millions in my pocket.”

Shayne said, “Is it barely possible you got too much sun out here on the porch and fell down and hit your head?”

“Not on your tintype. I may be old but I’m not feeble minded. Somebody crowned me, that’s for sure.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so! Now are you working for me or against me?”

“For,” said Shayne. “How much do you figure the job is worth?”

Raymond’s eyes slitted. “I won’t horsetrade with you. You clear up my mind about Effie and her husband and I’ll pay you two thousand dollars.”

Before Mike Shayne could ask him how to start going about that, there was a commotion behind them. Hat Raymond sprang erect, for all his stiff joints, his face coming apart in amazement. “Well, I’ll be damned! Here they are now, Shayne. Back earlier than I figured by the look of things.”

Two people had started up the walk. Behind them, Shayne saw another car near his own. A sedan. He berated himself for not hearing them drive up. A bad sign he was getting careless or had been too engrossed in Hat Raymond’s story.

“Grandpa! What happened — are you all right? Did you fall again?”

The girl was young, slender, brunette and very prim looking. A rescued spinster if Shayne had ever seen one. Her eyes shown with embarrassment and there was a halting sincerity to her tone. The man with her was young too. Tall, powerful and quietly thoughtful. His eyes searched Shayne’s face without a flicker of warmth.

“Blast it,” Hat Raymond cried. “Got no call coming back early! Surprises are no good for men of my age. Shayne, this here’s Effie and Tod. We were just talking about you.”

“Oh.” Tod Bascom’s eyes were mildly surprised. His handshake was perfunctory. Effie Bascom nodded nervously, apparently still concerned about her grandfather.

“He stumbled and fell,” Shayne said quietly. “Luckily I was here to help. Hat and I are old friends.”

“Grandpa,” Effie said. “I’m glad we came back so, soon. Fact is, Tod didn’t think we should stay away too long. So we hurried back. He finished his business sooner than he expected anyway.”

Shayne nodded. “What kind of business is that?” he asked politely.

“Real estate,” Tod Bascom said, not without pride of a kind. “Things are really booming in this part of Florida. You thinking of settling down here, Mr. Shayne?”

“I’ve lived in Miami a long time,” Shayne said.

“Now, now,” Hat Raymond interrupted. “Ever since this young pup came down from Georgia, his office has been after him for new accounts. Forget it.” He turned to his granddaughter. “Mr. Shayne is staying for dinner, Effie.”

Effie Bascom’s smile didn’t mask her sudden confusion. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Fine, fine,” Tod Bascom echoed. “Give Grandpa a change of venue.”

“Yeah,” chuckled the old man. “You love birds get mighty tiresome with your infernal billing and cooing.”

He winked at Mike Shayne. The redhead smiled back but his brain was racing. The set-up was too simple. If the Bascoms wanted to kill an old man to garner an inheritance, why had they waited so long? If Raymond were telling the truth, he’d been at their mercy for weeks. In this deserted wilderness, anything could have been arranged. Suddenly, Shayne realized there was something Hat Raymond hadn’t told him. It just didn’t add up.

“I’ll go see what we have in the fridge,” Effie Bascom said.

Even as she left, tripping into the interior of the house, Shayne wondered about the bits of leaves and straw still clinging to the material of her pretty blue skirt.

III

The afternoon wore on. Mike Shayne made himself comfortable. Before he allowed Hat Raymond to show him on a tour of the house, he asked to call his office. Raymond showed him into a den, and hobbled off with Tod Bascom into the living room. Surrounded by stuffed fish and framed photos harking back to early Florida days, Shayne got Lucy Hamilton on the phone.

“Hi, angel.”

“What’s up?” she asked. “Nothing important’s happened while you’ve been gone. A quiet day for a change.”

Shayne gave her the number of the Raymond house for emergency use and briefly outlined what he was up to. Lucy listened patiently.

“Do you think the old man knows what he’s talking about?” Lucy asked when he had concluded.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, he’s a likeable fellow so I’ll stick around for dinner and see what happens. He may be dreaming things up but I think I can find that out soon enough. And Lucy — there’s something I’d like to have you do for me!”

“Yes?”

“Call City Hall in Macon, Georgia and find out if they have a record of a marriage between Tod Bascom and Effie Raymond. That’s B-A-S-C-O-M. Call me here as soon as you get the dope.”

“Right, Michael — wait a minute. Effie can’t be a proper name.”

“I’m not worrying about her, angel. I’m mostly interested in Tod Bascom.”

Lucy Hamilton sighed and hung up.

Shayne went back to the living room. The old man and Tod Bascom were having a drink. A chrome decanter and glasses gleamed on an end table. Raymond waved Shayne to help himself, winking again.

“Help yourself, Mike. Twenty year old port. You look like a port man.”

Tod Bascom chuckled. “Mr. Shayne looks like he can drink anything, Grandpa.”

Shayne tilted his glass. “I consider that a compliment.”

Hat Raymond swallowed his drink, his eyes glowing.

“In my day, a man wasn’t a man unless he could down a gallon of cider without stopping. The Seminoles had a brand of firewater like to make your ears turn like spigots—” He rambled on, with gestures and eye-popping enthusiasm.

Shayne listened attentively, his eyes studying Tod Bascom. The man was a hard nut to crack. He seemed distant and aloof yet his face wore the right expression of interest though Shayne would have bet money that he wasn’t listening too carefully either. A man to watch, Shayne told himself.

At the height of the old man’s rambling, there was a crash of noise from the kitchen — a shattering of glass. Tod’s face broke apart with concern and he started for the door. Effie came to the entranceway, looking chagrined. The entire front of her skirt was dripping with water.

“What the devil!” Hat Raymond swung his stiff leg and stood erect.

“Sorry,” Effie said. “Stupid of me. Spilled a pitcher of ice water. I thought you might want something cool so I was making some lemonade for dinner. I’ll have to run upstairs and change my dress. Mr. Shayne, would you excuse me? Tod, would you come up with me? I can never manage that zipper on the dress I want to change into.”

“Quite all right,” Shayne said.

The old man mumbled under his breath and watched his granddaughter and her husband go up the stairway to the next level.

“Women,” Hat Raymond said. “Always mooning — always making mistakes.”

“Could be,” Shayne said, his eyes narrowing. “Now how about you showing me around this place. Might see a few things before they come on down.”

Hat Raymond slapped his good leg. “You’re right, Shayne. Come on. I’ve got a few knick-knacks I’ll bet you never saw the like of in Florida before. Been buying for many years some fine stuff from the dealers.”

Before they walked off to the other rooms, Shayne could hear water roar somewhere overhead. Somebody was obviously taking a shower. Effie Bascom, probably, before she changed into a fresh outfit.

There was no doubt that it was also a fine way to make certain that nothing they might be talking about could be overheard. As modern as the ranch style house seemed to be, the cascade of the steaming water filled the rooms with muted thunder.

IV

Hat Raymond asked, in a cozy den room, “Well, Mike, what do you think?”

Shayne made knobs of his hands. “I’m not sure. We could wait around for days before they made a move, and they’d get suspicious if I stayed too long. I haven’t got the time, either. But I have an idea. I’m going to try an experiment — with your help.”

The old man’s eyes glowed. “Such as?”

“I’m inclined to believe with you that your relatives are at the bottom of your troubles. But, frankly, they’re just a couple of rank amateurs and if we want to flush them out into the open, there is only one way to do it. We’ll play a little game, to force their hand. It’s the best way I know to bring matters to a head quickly. And I’m sure it’ll be all over by tomorrow. I don’t want to risk your neck either.”

Hat Raymond nodded. “Better right than sorry, Shayne. I want to make my mind clear about Tod. He’s no good for Effie. What do we do?”

“Just this,” Shayne said. “I’ll start talking at dinner or sometime later and whatever I say, you follow my lead. Get that?”

“I think I get you. You’re going to fake some kind of a real estate deal between the two of us to make them think they’re losing out. Is that it?”

“Yes,” Shayne said.

When Effie came into the den about fifteen minutes later, she found her grandfather and Mike Shayne engrossed in a survey of some Indian arrowheads.

“Gentlemen,” she said pleasantly, “dinner is served.”

Dinner consisted of turtle steak, boiled potatoes and a cream pie that was out of this world. Whatever else she might turn out to be, Effie Bascom was a superb cook. Shayne ate with relish. Hat Raymond, in spite of his troubles, had a hearty appetite. For all his years, he ate like a waterfront longshoreman. Tod Bascom ate delicately.

Effie had slipped on a green frock for dinner. She looked pretty, prim and every inch the granddaughter of an old timer like Hat Raymond.

“Some food, eh, Shayne?” Hat Raymond chortled.

“A feast,” the redhead agreed, keeping a close eye on the Bascoms. But nothing suspicious passed between them. Not by word or glance. Tod was politely listening to everything the old man said and deferring to Shayne in the conversation.

Effie smiled. “More pie, Mr. Shayne?”

“Please, no. I’m chock full of good food as it is, Effie.” The redhead leaned back in his chair.

Hat Raymond looked pleased. “Effie’s a fine housekeeper, Shayne.”

Just after dessert, the phone rang in the living room. Prim Effie Bascom answered it, nodding. “It’s for you, Mr. Shayne. It’s a Miss Hamilton!”

He took the call and turned his back on the dinner table. “Hello, Lucy,” he said. “Did that package arrive from my aunt?”

“Yes, Michael,” Lucy said crisply. “Tod Bascom was married in Macon, Georgia, to a Miss Effrella Raymond.”

“Fine, fine,” Shayne said. “When did the package come?”

“Just one week ago to be exact. That help you, Michael?”

“Yes. Thanks. I’ll pick it up when I get there. Say about ten o’clock tonight. You go on home, Lucy.”

“Michael, you’re sure everything is all right?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He hung up and returned to the table smiling.

“That’s a relief,” he said. “I’ve been trying to buy a special vase for my aunt. Miss Hamilton, my secretary, finally found the right piece. My aunt will be pleasantly surprised.”

Effie smiled. “I like vases too. They’re so graceful.”

“You should,” Shayne said offhandedly, tackling the dessert. “New bride like you.”

“Not new as all that,” she said. “It’s been six months now.”

“Yeah,” Hat Raymond rumbled. “Six months since this rascal stole the apple of my eye. You should have seen Effie’s mother, Shayne. She come late in my life but she was as pretty as they can come. A real lady, besides.”

“Grandpa,” Effie said softly, blushing.

Tod Bascom changed the subject. “I never did hear how you know Grandpa, Mr. Shayne.”

The angular face of Michael Shayne crinkled into hard, granite lines.

“We have a similar interest in property. Hat and I are financing a land deal of some importance. We’re just about ready to consummate the deal.”

Tod Bascom looked amazed. “You never mentioned that, Grandpa!”

Hat Raymond took Shayne’s lead. “I don’t have to tell everybody all my business, son.”

Shayne said, “Yes, this is official. We’re all set to go ahead with the project. We’re working out of Miami with a corporation there. Your grandfather, my old friend Hat, is putting up five hundred thousand dollars for the deal.”

“Oh,” Tod Bascom’s bloodless face was all the answer Shayne could have needed. “Well, you do go in for big surprises, Grandpa. Hear that, Effie? While we weren’t looking, this old fox has been making busy plans.”

“And why not?” Hat Raymond cried. “What for is money if not for building and creating things? Course, I haven’t changed my mind about Effie. She’ll get the bulk of it all when I’m gone.”

“Hush,” Effie said. “I’d rather not think of that.”

“Forget it,” Tod said. “Grandpa is healthier and heartier than nine out of ten men who walk into my office. He’ll outlive us all.”

“Amen to that,” Shayne said, raising his glass for a toast. The bait had been cast on the waters and the fish were beginning to nibble hungrily. The Bascoms both looked pale and unhappy.

Lucy Hamilton’s information about the Bascom-Raymond nuptials had proved conclusively that Tod and Effie had come from Georgia a few months ago and pretended to be man and wife for the old man’s benefit. Then when Tod had learned she was really the old man’s heiress, he had finally married her. They had obviously skipped off for a few days last week to do it. That had to mean something.

Hat Raymond’s life had to be in grave danger.

V

Along about eight-thirty, Mike Shayne rose to his feet and stretched luxuriously. Hat Raymond who had been dozing on the lounge blinked awake and looked surprised. Effie and Tod Bascom looked politely puzzled.

“Well, folks. Time I was getting back.” Shayne smiled at Effie. “A marvelous dinner, Effie. I’ll have to make it up to you sometime.”

“Nonsense. It was a pleasure, Mr. Shayne.”

“You really have to go?” Hat Raymond asked forlornly. “We really didn’t get to talk much — about that deal, I mean.”

“I know,” Shayne admitted. “But all the contracts will be ready tomorrow morning. I’ll pick them up at the lawyers first thing and drive out here. You have the check ready for the full amount.”

“All right,” wheezed the old man. “Sounds good. I am tired at that and my head is still sore.”

“You take care, partner.” Shayne wrung the leathery old paw warmly. “I need you. Well, Tod. See you again tomorrow. Been nice meeting you.”

All three of them saw him to the front door. The front light was on, a strong beam lighting the driveway. All about them, the surroundings lay dark and ominous. Far off, the concentrated glare of Lomar Point glittered like a jewel in the darkness.

Hat Raymond tried to read Shayne’s eyes as he left but gave up, sighing, rubbing his hand on his bruised forehead. Effie said goodnight timidly and Tod Bascom waved a farewell.

Shayne pulled his coat collar tight against the night wind that was building and reached his car. He turned the key on, let the motor pulse into life and lit a cigarette. Finally, he stabbed the darkness with his headlights, picked up the shell drive and drove off. The road dipped and swallowed his car. Soon, the lights of Point Lomar were behind him. The gloom swallowed him before he could reach the highway.

He pulled off the road, cut the engine, then the lights and slipped out of the car. A long vigil lay ahead of him but it might well be worth everything. By his clear calculations, he had forced the amateur hands of Effie and Tod Bascom. They weren’t about to let a half million dollars fade away on some land appropriation if they really were responsible for the clumsy attempts on Hat Raymond’s life.

Mike Shayne ran back through the dense shrubbery, heading for the ranchhouse. The front light had long since been extinguished. The sky was shot with bright stars. He worked his way toward the house, deciding on approaching from the rear.

There was a sound of a television playing in the stillness. A rush of water as, though Effie were washing dishes. Somebody coughed. It sounded like old Hat’s phlegmy voice.

Of course, it could be hours before the Bascoms made their move. But of one thing the redhead was certain. That move would come tonight before Point Lomar saw another dawn. It had to, if the Bascoms were guilty.

He edged forward in the dark, skirting a hedge and squeezing past the last line of palm trees. An unbroken stretch of twenty yards led to the back of the house. A solitary light shone from the living room. The television sound seemed to come from there too. Shayne raced across the open ground and closed with the covering dark of the house’s shadow.

He found the screen window Raymond had told him about, eased it open and clambered inside. Voices hummed nearby. He recalled the physical layout of the rooms. Kitchen just before him and to the right. Living room left. He crept forward stealthily, unholstering his .45. It felt comfortable in his hand.

“More brandy, Grandpa?”

“No thanks, honey. I’m fine.”

“You sure your head is all right? That was a bad bump.”

“Can’t kill me.” The old man’s laugh was full-throated. “It was lucky that Shayne got here when he did.”

“Grandpa.” Effie Bascom sounded troubled. “Are you really going into this deal with Mr. Shayne?”

“Course, I am. It’s a fine investment.”

“I suppose you’re right but it sounds so risky and that is an awful lot of money.”

“Effie, I’m surprised at you.” The oil in Tod Bascom’s voice made Shayne grin in the darkness. “Grandpa knows what’s good. I think it’s a grand idea. Now stop bothering him and go to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“All right, Tod. Goodnight, Grandpa.”

“Night, honey. Don’t you fret about your old Grandpa. He knows what he’s doing.”

The loudness of the voices guided Shayne forward. He heard the sudden patter of Effie’s heels going upstairs. A brief silence followed in which he could hear liquid pouring from a bottle into a glass.

“Have another drink, Grandpa?”

“Sure, son. I feel like tying one on tonight.”

Shayne reached the door and edged it open a fraction. A thin sliver of vision showed him Tod Bascom next to Hat Raymond holding a glass in his hand. The clean set of the younger man’s face was deceiving.

Hat Raymond was chuckling in his old man’s way. “Damn fool.”

“Who?” It was Tod, sounding surprised.

“That Mike Shayne. Thought he knew his stuff. So he comes, turns tail and runs.” He fell to chuckling again.

“I don’t understand you, Grandpa.”

“Huh? Oh, never mind. Tell me, you and Effie happy?”

“What do you think? I love her. She loves me.”

“That’s good. That’s why I put her in my will. I want her to have everything when I go.”

Tod Bascom laughed nervously. “You’ll live longer than anybody.”

The old man chortled. “Don’t think I won’t. Had another checkup just Monday. Doc Bates says my pump is as good as a colt’s. Hell, if a man’s heart is sound, he can last forever.”

“Yes,” Bascom said quietly. “Have another drink.”

“I will. Hey, Tod. You trying to get me drunk?”

“Now who could do that to an oldtimer like you?”

Shayne widened the slit in the door. Both men were barely three feet apart. Hat Raymond was filling his glass and Tod Bascom was glaring with hatred down at the old bent back.

“You could,” Raymond chuckled, “if you put your mind to it. You don’t fool me none, Tod. You’d like to see me dead so Effie could have all that money to herself. I’ve known about you a long time. I thought that Shayne could spot you but he didn’t.” The old man was performing beautifully as Shayne had instructed him.

“What are you talking about?” Tod Bascom looked incredulous.

“You damn well know. And I’m warning you now to stop it. Don’t try to lay me out. It won’t work. For your information, you’re wasting your time. I made Effie my heir, sure. But she isn’t any more. I changed the will again, when you two were gone for a few days. So if you kill me it will be for nothing. What do you think of that?”

“What?”

From where he stood, Shayne could see the blood rise in the younger man’s face. Bascom mottled like magic. His hands clenched and he swallowed hoarsely. Before Hat Raymond or Shayne could divine his intention, he had rushed forward and smashed the old man’s glass aside.

Hat Raymond lurched erect and swung a hard fist.

Bascom shoved him back against the divan and whipped out a cold looking, black .38. “You old buzzard,” he screamed. “I’ll kill you whether you’re bluffing or not.”

“Go ahead,” cried Hat Raymond. “Shoot and you’ll fry in the chair for nothing. I have no heir now I tell you! All the money is going into a cancer research organization right here in Florida.”

Tod Bascom shook himself. “Smart, aren’t you? Well, you’ll change that will again — or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll make you wish you had. You don’t think I married Effie because I loved her, did you? She was just a sleeping partner to me until I found out she was going to be an heiress. I know what she means to you — so you hear me out. I intend to kill her if you force me to.”

“Why, you ornery—”

Mike Shayne didn’t wait for Hat Raymond to do something rash. He swept the door back, burst into the room and leveled his .45 at Tod Bascom.

“Drop it, Tod.”

Bascom cried out in fright, turned and brought his own gun up. Shayne’s eyes went cold. There was no time to play it nice.

But he had not reckoned with the old man. Hat Raymond had carved a livelihood out of Florida when it was a swamp, had molded a career with his fists. With a whoop that sounded like a Seminole on the warpath, he swooped down on his granddaughter’s husband in a flying tackle. The .38 flew out of Bascom’s hand.

Hat Raymond lay there panting lustily, hugging Tod’s knees. Bascom kicked him off viciously and tried to dodge around Shayne.

Without waste motion, Shayne brought up a left hook and jarred Bascom to his heels. A follow-up right hand crunched on the smooth jaw. Bascom fell heavily, sending a vase crashing.

“Shayne,” Raymond moaned. “I was right. It was him!”

“You okay?” Shayne reached for him. “There’s still Effie to consider.”

“Effie? What’s Effie got to do with it?”

Effie Raymond said quietly from the doorway, “Stand still all of you. Don’t try anything foolish, Mr. Shayne. This shotgun will blast you to bits.”

Hat Raymond cursed and stared at his granddaughter, unbelievingly.

She saw the look and her eyes blazed. “Yes, you old buzzard,” she cried. “Me too. The granddaughter you forgot about for ten years and then tried to buy off with an inheritance. Well, it isn’t enough. You broke Mother’s heart. You killed her. And nothing’s enough to make up for the misery until you’re dead and we collect the money.”

VI

Michael Shayne bit his lip, and very carefully dropped his gun to the floor.

“Effie!” Raymond boomed. “Don’t talk like that!”

She was tight-lipped, watching them intently from the landing. Shayne studied her. The shotgun was awesome, poking at them like that in her inexperienced, and obviously nervous hands.

“What do you think, Grandpa?” Effie said harshly. “I wanted Tod to marry me. I knew I was just another girl to him. Look at me. Who’d want me without money? I’m plain! Plain! You always told me I was homely. How many years did I hear that until Mother died? And then you forgot about me until this year. Your conscience began to bother you about Mother and me as you were nearing the end of your life. You wrote and told me about the will. I saw my chance.”

Hat Raymond suddenly looked his age. He raised a protesting, gnarled hand. “Effie — don’t! Your mother would—”

“To hell with you,” she broke in. “Leave Mother out of it — it’s too late now. So you changed your will again. Well, you’ll change it right back. You’ll change it right now or I’m going to blast you to pieces. Come on, you’ll write that letter—”

Mike Shayne was watching Effie Bascom very carefully. He had seen the same thing so many times. A helpless, defenseless young girl, pushed to the extremes of stress and anger both, suddenly pointing a gun with every intention of using the weapon. Effie was very dangerous right now.

“Effie,” Shayne said quietly. “Use your head. You can’t do it this way. You need a lawyer. You can’t force it like this.”

Her eyes swung to him madly. “You knew all along, didn’t you? Sitting here all afternoon, pretending. You knew! How did you know?”

Shayne shrugged. “I should have heard you drive up. I didn’t. You had leaves clinging all over your clothes. I knew you had parked and come through the vegetation on foot. You, or more than likely, Tod slugged your grandfather, after pretending to have left for Tampa. I just happened along at the right time. You couldn’t know that Hat had phoned me already. So you and Tod hid at a safe distance when I drove up and pretended to arrive a little later. It would have been easy. Hat could have died from a head blow and people might have believed he fell down accidentally. After all, he’s over ninety.”

She nodded, watching her husband groan awake. “And that call from your secretary?” Effie asked.

Shayne smiled. “I learned you and Tod were married last week. Which meant he married you only after he came down here with you and heard from Hat’s lips personally about the will you were heir to. He only married you for money, girl!”

“Damnation,” Hat Raymond muttered. “I was right. My own kin — You were right, Shayne.” He turned to Effie. “You’re no flesh and blood of mine, acting like this.”

Shayne restrained him with a headshake, turned to the distraught girl, and said, “Effie, put that shotgun down. Murder won’t solve anything. Be sensible.”

Hat Raymond shook his head. “Stubborn — just like her mother.” But there was grudging admiration in his old eyes.

Tod Bascom was swaying to a standing position. Shayne guaged the distance. There wasn’t going, to be another chance.

“Effie,” he said. “Listen to me.”

She ignored him. “You all right, Tod?” Her eyes swung back to Shayne. “Well?”

“Listen to reason.” Shayne spoke slowly. “Old Hat here would straighten out all this and make you his legal heir without fuss if you’ll just—”

Tod Bascom suddenly came to life. “Effie,” he blurted wildly. “Don’t be crazy, honey. Don’t shoot! Even if we try to say you were pushed into killing Grandpa, you’ll lose all the money. I’ll — we’ll go to the chair. Shayne’s a witness. For God’s sakes, Effie, think of me!”

“Grandpa has to die,” she said coldly. “Tonight! Think I’m going to wait years while he takes his time to die and we live on crumbs? No! Now just get out of the way, Mr. Shayne and don’t try anything. Tod, come over here — away from them. This is a shotgun, not a rifle.”

And because it was a shotgun, Mike Shayne took the chance. He sprang forward, getting Tod Bascom’s body between him and the muzzle. Effie tried to shout, but too late. Shayne pinned Bascom’s hand and blocked his own body with Effie’s husband.

Hat Raymond took a hand once more. He dove behind the divan, creaking joints and all, hollering like an Indian again. Effie swung the muzzle, left and right, then left again, sorely confused and bewildered — her eyes glazed. Shayne was watching her closely and suddenly shot Tod Bascom toward her as he would release a bowling ball.

Bascom screamed and tried to cover his face with his hands. Effie jumped and tried to sight past him. There was too much blur for her to focus properly, and suddenly Tod crashed into her.

They were both a helpless tangle on the stairs. Shayne vaulted the divan, scooping up his fallen .45 as he went, and blasted twice over their heads. Effie dropped the shotgun and averted her face. Tod Bascom collapsed helplessly. Effie Bascom’s loud sobs filled the room.

“Damnation!” Hat Raymond cried. “Damn money! Bunch of vultures. Ruins everything. Even your own flesh and blood will kill you for money, Shayne.”

“Shut up, for a change,” Shayne said, not too unkindly. “If you didn’t play with people’s lives and dreams like an old fool, you wouldn’t tempt people into doing stupid things. Tod Bascom is a weakling who saw a chance to make money the easy way and you played on his weaknesses with all this will business. Why didn’t you tell me you had changed the will so I could know what the story was and do something about it? I had to find that out for myself.”

Hat Raymond’s eyes shone with admiration. He extended a leathery hand. “Shayne, I sure could have used a man like you forty years ago. What a time we would have had cleaning up things around here.”

“What about your granddaughter?”

The old man subsided. “A man has to take what comes. It doesn’t make me happy to know she wanted me dead. But she was temporarily out of her mind — almost insane. I’ll tell you this, young feller, I didn’t get to where I am crying over spilt milk.”

“No,” Shayne said. “I guess you didn’t, at that.”

Raymond smiled faintly. “At least, Effie’s a fighter. There’s a lot to be said for fighters. Even when they fight in the wrong,”

Mike Shayne just nodded, as he kept Tod and Effie covered. It was time to call the operator and ask for the local law to come down and make an arrest — two arrests.

But he hadn’t reckoned on Hat Raymond. The old man fixed an eye on Tod Bascom and his badly frightened granddaughter and spoke to Shayne.

“No law, Shayne. Hat Raymond takes care of his own. I’m responsible for Effie losing her head. I know this much. This young husband of her’s is no good for her. If he divorces her and forgets any claim he may have on her, I’ll let him clear out of Florida right now — providing Effie stays with me and lets me make it up to her. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

In a moment, Effie had rushed to him, eyes streaming with tears, trembling with remorse. Hat Raymond folded her gently in his arms and glared at Tod Bascom.

“There’s your answer, Bascom,” he growled. “You leaving now or does Mike Shayne have to run you in?”

Tod Bascom gulped nervously, flung a look at Effie, at the determined Hat Raymond and nodded his acquiescence. “Would you wait for me, Mr. Shayne,” he said, “while I go upstairs to pack my few things and drive me to the station.” And he walked slowly up the stairs to his room.

Mike Shayne rubbed his earlobe speculatively. Hat Raymond may have lost a son-in-law — but he seemed to have acquired a brand new granddaughter. Shayne fervently hoped so, for the old man’s sake.

“Well, Shayne,” Raymond said happily over Effie’s shoulder. “I guess everything may work out just fine.”

Mike Shayne shrugged. “Looks like it. But you’re lucky they were just a couple of crazy, rank amateurs. Well, there’s nothing left for me to do but drive back to Miami and have my secretary send you a bill for two thousand dollars.

“By the way, Hat,” Shayne went on. “I just checked the shotgun. Not a damned thing in it. They were just a pair of amateurs to the end.”