Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 41, No. 4, October 1977

A return telephone call seems a small item with which to topple a multi-billion dollar empire of crime. But with Shayne and a prodigal brunette beauty to push, underworld thrones grow shaky.

I

On the night Salvatore “Momo” Giancanna was assassinated in a Chicago suburb, Mike Shayne, the big Miami private investigator, a redhead with a temper, was awakened by the raucous jangle of the telephone. He buried his head in the pillow in an effort to shut out the sound. No use. Shayne swore aloud. He reached out a muscular arm and yanked the receiver off the hook.

“Shayne here. What the hell do you want? It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

“That’s why I called,” the voice at the other end said. “I wanted to be sure I’d get you in.”

“Okay. You got me in. Now what?”

“My name’s Harry Cole. Monarch Insurance Company. Special investigator on claims.”

“Never heard of you. What do you want?”

“I want to give you a chance to earn a hundred grand. Ten percent of a million dollars. Plus ten grand in front.”

“What for?”

“Theft of a million in cut and uncut diamonds taken this evening from, a salesman registered at the Americana Hotel.”

“Call Robbery Detail. They have a couple of good men there — Dave Patterson and Smooth Wilson.”

“I already have. There’s more to it. The salesman was severely pistol-whipped. He died an hour ago.”

“Try Homicide. Lieutenant Thomas Elfmont. He hates killers.”

“I’ll do that later. What we want is to get the diamonds back. What do you say?”

“See me in my office in the morning. Ten o’clock.”

“Is it yes?”

“Okay — if you come before ten, Lucy Hamilton, my secretary, will give you a cup of coffee. If you need it, ask her to lace the coffee with some brandy.”

“Good. See you at ten.”

At nine o’clock that morning Harry Cole was in Chief Peter Painter’s office. The Chief of Police of Miami Beach was attentive.

“I’ve got the best man in my department working on the case for us, Mr. Cole. Tommy Elfmont — lieutenant in charge of the Homicide Division.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Nerves of carbonized steel. Knows the street, and every hood in town. Has a dog. A pit bull. The dog runs with Tommy every morning. Five miles. A vicious animal.

“That’s very interesting, Chief. But all my company is now interested in is recovery of a million dollars’ worth of diamonds. To that effort, we have engaged the services of Mike Shayne, the private detective.”

The statement made Chief Painter’s forehead veins bulge. He pounded the desk with a fist.

“I don’t like Shayne. He’s a meddler. He’s interfered in too many police cases, hindered our investigations.”

“Chief, we are aware of that,” Cole replied. “We are also aware that Mike Shayne has solved many of the cases in which he, as you say, interfered. Shayne is on the case and stays there. That’s our prerogative.”

“I don’t like it, dammit!” Chief Painter snapped. “If he so much as makes one move to interfere in this case and our investigation, I’ll have him in a cell.”

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, Chief,” Cole said. “The mayor has been told of our engaging Mike Shayne and has given his full approval.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chief Painter said. “I’m willing to cooperate. I said I would. Lieutenant Elfmont is certain to solve this case.”

“I hope so, but we will still have Mike Shayne on it. Those are orders from the top. I follow orders.”

Chief Painter sighed. “Of course, of course. Has to be that way. Chain of command. Very important.”

Harry Cole nodded and walked from the office.

Shortly before noon, Mike Shayne came into Chief Painter’s office.

“Good morning, Chief.”

Painter growled, a low, faint sound that could have come from a miniature poodle. “It was until you walked in.”

“Now, Chief, that’s no way to cure your ulcers. I’m here to help you.” Shayne realized he would probably need the Chief’s help.

Painter pointed a forefinger at Shayne. “You gave me my ulcers to begin with. And don’t use that damned patronizing tone, either. You’re not fooling me one bit, you understand, Shayne?”

“Sure, Chief, I had no intention of patronizing you. I want to work with you. I’ve been engaged by the Monarch Insurance Company to find the diamonds. That’s what I’m interested in, and I’m sure you are, too. If we don’t solve this robbery it will give the Beach a black eye. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

“The black eye is already there, Shayne. It’s you. Why don’t you leave town.”

“See, Chief, Now, who’s passing out ulcers?”

“Ulcers!” Painter shouted. “In your case, it would be a remedy.”

Shayne shook his red head. “That’s awfully unkind of you, Chief.”

Painter was about to retort when Lieutenant Thomas Elfmont came into the office. He was just six feet tall, with the body of a trained athlete, prepossessing, direct, with dark eyes that seemed to be looking straight through whomever he was talking to.

Shayne and Elfmont shook hands. Elfmont’s face was grave.

“You’re on the case, Mike?”

“Yep. Quite a ripoff.”

“We know.”

“I need your help, Tommy.”

“I need yours,” Elfmont said. “I’m interested in a far more important matter. Becky has been kidnapped. We just got this note.”

Shayne read the note — ‘Get off the case, Elfmont, or Becky goes into the drink. About three miles into the Atlantic.’

Shayne whistled silently. “When did they grab her?”

“About an hour ago in a shopping center.”

“Where was that dog of yours — what the hell’s his name — Bruiser?”

“Locked up in the car. He tried to tear out of there but they took off with her. He couldn’t get out. All the doors to the car were locked.” Elfmont shook his head. “A bad move on Becky’s part. She should have left a window open at least.”

Shayne shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tommy. What now?”

“Let me give it to you straight. I don’t care about the diamonds. And I don’t care about the murder of that salesman. I want to find Becky first. Do I make myself clear, Mike?”

“Perfectly, Tommy. Count me in. All the way.”

“Good. We get Becky back, and I’ll work with you on the rest. You may know I’ve been working on the Johnny Roselli murder. Our information is that there are going to be a lot more killings, some of them right here on the Beach. A couple more wipe-outs and we’ll have the Tourist Bureau, the Hotel Associations, and the Merchants’ Associations on our necks. Now, you got any ideas, Mike?”

“One. If what the note says is true, it means they have Becky on a boat. Our first move should be to check the various marinas, in Miami Beach and Miami, Fort Lauderdale, the works.”

“That’s a helluva job, Mike. The two of us could never do it.”

“I’ll put out some feelers. You got any contacts in the marinas?”

“A few.”

“Thomas,” Chief Painter said, “if you like, I can assign Sergeant Patterson and Detective Wilson to you for a short time. Two weeks?”

“That’s fine, Chief. You do that and we’ll talk to them.”

“You just work with Lieutenant Elfmont, Shayne,” Chief Painter, shaking a finger at the redhead, said. “He’s in charge. Understand?”

“Short of killing myself, Chief,” Shayne replied.

II

Outside Chief Painter’s office, Shayne said, “I think it best we work alone. I’ll see what I can dig up, and you see what you can come up with. I’ll call you, or you can call me, about six this evening. Try my office first. If I’m out, try my apartment. I’m in the book.”

Shayne went to a phone booth and called the Miami News, asked for Tim Rourke. He gave him a rundown on the situation.

“Wow! Do I get an exclusive on this, Mike?”

“Don’t you always?”

“Not always — but okay. What do you want from me?”

“I want to know if you have any information about a hood in town who owns a boat and where it may be moored.”

There was a long silence. Impatiently, Shayne said, “Tim?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Rourke replied. “I was thinking. First of all, the mob knows that Lieutenant Elfmont is investigating the Roselli killing, and that he’s coming close. Let me run it down for you.”

“Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“The word came down from New York, from the Big Guy who took over since Carlo Gambino died. A lot of the soldiers, and a few on the inside, were about to start singing a la Abe Reles. Murder, Incorporated, remember?”

“Yeah, I know the whole bit. Go on.”

“Don’t be so damned impatient. There’s a lot to this. When they knocked off Sam Giancanna in Chicago, that was the beginning. Next, Johnny Roselli. Street talk was that the CIA may have been behind the two killings to stop Giancanna and Roselli from talking about the Castro assassination deal. Big flopperoo. Rumors. Nothing behind them.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. Now, the only Don in this town who owns a boat is Dom Colletti. Dom takes his orders from New York and Chicago. The boys there call him and tell him to bark. He barks. They tell him to jump and he says, ‘How high.’ That’s it.”

“So?”

“Mike, for Pete’s sake, have you lost all your marbles? The Council, the Grand Council of the Mafia, ordered Giancanna killed. And then, Roselli. Both were scheduled to testify. Roselli already had testified before the Committee investigating crime.

“Senatorial, Mike. The big guns, also wanted to delve into the CIA, and just how much the bureau was involved in assassination plots.”

“Nope. Let’s keep it local. Dom Colletti.”

“He could be the man behind the Roselli assassination, and so behind the snatch of Lieutenant Elfmont’s wife.”

“What’s the name of his boat and where is it moored?”

“The Angelina, named after his daughter. Colletti’s wife died about two years ago. It may be moored at the Marina, alongside Pier sixty-six, Seventeenth Street Causeway.”

“I know the place, Tim. What else?”

“You think Becky Elfmont may be held on the boat?”

“Could be. According to the note, which declared they would drop her in the drink, about three miles out on the Atlantic.”

“That’s a put-on, Mike. To throw Lieutenant Elfmont off the track. They may take her out and drop her three miles out, if this fuzz friend of yours doesn’t play it cozy. These guys play for keeps. The murder of a cop’s wife? So what? If I were you, I’d move fast.

“About the diamond heist, I’ll check around. Maybe a local or locals. Or a couple of out-of-town heavies. The tracks are open. The broads are running loose, looking for roadshow Johns. Try the Sly Fox on Ocean Drive in Fort Lauderdale. It’s a pickup place. High-powered broads and guys looking for a little fun and games.

“Some of those chicks can be had for two Martinis and a little sweet talk. You may hit pay-dirt there. If not, try the lounge in the Royal Admiral. Talk to Joey, the bartender on the night trick. He’s sharp and knows most everyone who comes into the joint.”

The Royal Admiral Apartment-Hotel catered to permanent and transient guests. It was one of the many of its kind that lined the Galt Ocean Mile. The tenants were as different from each other as the ever-changing weather during the seasons. Among the permanent residents was a former Broadway stage star; a corporation lawyer in his dotage, eighty years old or more, and a woman hearing fifty named Ann Waterman who looked years younger.

She was having an affair with the lawyer, if it could be called that. Actually she was using him, as he was using her. She needed someone to keep her supplied with liquor and meals, and he needed, or wanted, an attractive woman to feed his ego and bring back memories of his lost youth and virility.

When Shayne came into the lounge about seven o’clock Ann Waterman, thrice divorced, was sitting at a table alone. She was wearing a pair of tight blue slacks that hugged her figure, a top that was tied at her abdomen, loosely, so that her small round breasts were all but exposed. Shayne spoke softly to Joey, who was on duty.

“I don’t know if I can help you, Mr. Shayne.” He nodded toward Ann Waterman. “That gal there might. She knows half the men in the area. Hangs around the Sly Fox, the Galt Ocean Mile Hotel, and wherever there’s the prospect of a man she can pick up.”

“Is she a pro?”

“Nope.” There was disgust in the bartender’s voice. “Just a lush. We’ve had some ripe ones in here but she takes the cake. Nothing but trouble. Just go over and sit down, ask her if you can buy her a drink. That’s all it will take. After the second drink she’ll tell you all you want to know, if she knows it.”

Shayne slid off the stool and moved toward Ann Waterman. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’d like to buy you a drink, if I may.”

She smiled, nodded. “Please sit down.”

He sat on the bench next to her. She called the waitress — “Marge.”

The girl came over. “Yes, Ann?”

“A vodka Martini.”

“I’ll have a double brandy, straight.”

“My name’s Shayne,” the private detective said.

“Okay, Shayne. My name’s Ann.”

Marge set the drinks down and turned away after smiling broadly at Ann. It was more of a leer, as if to say, “You sure can get them quick, baby.”

Shayne appraised her. Long black hair, obviously dyed because at her age the gray should have been evident. If the bartender was right, and Shayne was sure he was, the woman next to him had kept her figure and face in remarkable condition. She was a little above average height, slim, good teeth, the eyes a little too small that excellent makeup enlarged and broadened. Attractive, yes, but there was something that suggested corruption in the way she smiled, about her eyes, the quirk she had of twisting her mouth at intervals when she spoke.

She finished her drink in two gulps. Shayne motioned Marge, who brought her another drink. Ann picked up the glass and took a long sip.

Shayne got into it then. “Do you like to fish?” he asked.

She shook here head. “Not at all. But I like to go out on boats. You know — sail up and down the Intracoastal. Things like that.”

“I’d like it too, if I owned a boat. Do you own one?”

“No. But I have a friend who owns one. No, I don’t think he does. He says it’s his but it isn’t.”

“A large boat?”

“Pretty big. It’s equipped. Everything you could want, and a fully stocked bar. I’ve been on it several times, most of the time in a party. Three or four couples.”

“Does it have a name, the boat?”

“Yes. The Angelina. It’s berthed at a private dock, near Stan’s restaurant. You know where Stan’s is?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

She smiled, and her lower lip twisted a little. “Yes, I guess so. I go there a lot.”

“What’s your friend’s name, the one who owns the boat?”

“Pete Allegretti. You know him? Everybody around here knows him.”

“No, but I know some guys that do — in Miami. As you say, Pete gets around. Maybe we can go out on his boat and have a party?” He gave Ann a smile.

“I’d like that. But lately he hasn’t taken her out. I don’t understand it. He used to. All the time.”

“Does Pete come in here?”

Once in a while. Most of time I meet him at the Sly Fox. That’s down the street, about two blocks.

“I know the place.”

“If you want to meet him? Why don’t you go there tomorrow about noon? I’ll introduce you.”

“I’ll do that.” Shayne glanced at his watch. “Sorry Ann. I have an appointment. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a fretful tone in her voice. “With a girl?”

“Nope. Business.”

“I thought maybe we could make an evening of it.”

“Tomorrow, Ann.” He called Marge, handed her a twenty, said, “Give Ann whatever she wants.”

“Sure, I’ll take care of her.”

Shayne went to the bar and handed John a ten. “Thanks. It worked.”

The bartender smiled. “It always does. She’s not choosy, and someday she’s going to pick up the wrong guy and he’ll kill her.”

Shayne went to the telephone in the lobby, called Will Gentry, Miami Chief of Police. “Will, get me a rundown on a guy named Pete Allegretti. He may have a yellow sheet.”

“He does, Mike. He’s one of our prime suspects.”

“For what?”

“The Roselli killing, for one. Has been picked up a dozen times all over the country. Dangerous as a rattlesnake. You working on something?”

“Yeah. The diamond heist in the Americana. Monarch Insurance.”

“Be careful with Allegretti. He kills quick.”

“I’ll be careful. You know Tommy Elfmont?”

“Sure. A good cop. I heard about it. They got his wife Becky. Those guys are nuts. He’ll kill a dozen men to free her. You on that too?”

“Well, if it shows, good. That’s the story.”

“Okay, keep in touch. How are you and Painter getting along?”

“As usual. The little man was spitting fire and brimstone when he learned I was hired by Monarch.”

Chief Gentry laughed and hung up.

Shayne next got in touch with Tom Elfmont and told him of his meeting with Ann Waterman, added, “This may be the lead we’re looking for, Tommy.”

“Sounds possible. But you can’t take any chances with this character Allegretti. What time are you supposed to meet the Waterman broad in the Sly Fox?”

“About noon. She said she’d have lunch with Allegretti and introduce me.”

“I’ll talk with Sergeant Patterson and Wilson. I’ll plant them there, at the bar. I’ll come in a little later. In the meantime, I’ll have a patrol car look over the area around Stan’s for a sight of the boat. You going to be in the rest of the day?”

“At my office, then my apartment.”

“I’ll call you if anything breaks.”

III

Shayne awoke the next morning after a fretful night. He had a premonition that he was headed for trouble. He took a shower, made a pot of coffee, poured a cup for himself, laced it with a slug of Martell. He called his office. Lucy Hamilton, his attractive secretary answered.

“Yes, Oh, Mighty One, before you start I’ll fill you in. Only Tim Rourke called. Wanted to know if you were holding out on him. I assured him you weren’t, that the only thing you ever held out was your hand, for a check.”

“Very funny. You must have been up all night watching Johnny Carson. What else?”

“That’s it. Are you coming in?”

“Nope. If anything important should occur I’ll be at the Sly Fox in Fort Lauderdale around noon. It’s on Galt Ocean Mile.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You know? Since when?”

“Oh, come off it, Mr. Shayne. I’m a big girl. Every big girl knows about the Sly Fox. It’s a pick-up joint. Lots of guys on the make, married, separated, divorced, and liars. And gals too. Why are you going there?”

“Business.” He spoke spoke curtly.

“Business? Monkey, plain and fancy, or what?”

“Probably ‘or what’.”

“Well, I hope you’ll fill me in with all the provocative details. My subscriptions to Playboy and Cosmopolitan expired last week.”

“I’ll do that. In the meantime, keep yourself under control.”

“And not think of you in the Sly Fox with all those slucious gals?”

“ ‘Slucious?’ Is that a new word?”

“Don’t be a square, Mike. It’s been out for months. It’s a combination of slut and delicious. That’s what you’ll find in the Sly Fox. Good hunting.”

“Thanks.” He smiled as he hung up.

The red head drove toward Fort Launderdale, taking the I-95 freeway to AIA, along the ocean. The air was clean and crisp. It was a perfect October day. An ocean breeze rustled the palm fronds, and the sound of the breaking surf provided a muted accompaniment. The bright sunlight struck the ocean, flashing back brilliant dapples on waves that rode to the sandy beaches.

It was a serene day. Yet, Shayne could not shake himself loose from a feeling that impending disaster lay ahead.

He drove into the parking lot alongside the Sly Fox, glanced at his watch. A little after twelve. Right on time.

The Sly Fox is an intimate restaurant and lounge. It is a long and narrow room, with tables in the middle of the room and booths at the right as you come in. The bar runs about three quarters of the length. The food is good, the drinks excellent, the waitresses young and pretty.

Shayne looked around and saw Ann Waterman in one of the booths. The man with her was swarthy, typically Sicilian, with dark good looks, smooth, expensively dressed in the Florida style, white slacks, sports shirt, and a blue sports jacket. Ann Waterman waved to him, timidly.

Shayne strode over, and as he did he glanced toward the bar. Patterson and Wilson were there nursing their beers. Patterson game him a faint nod. Shayne turned toward Ann.

“Hi,” he greeted her. He nodded toward Allegretti. “I’m Mike. May I join you?”

“Sit down, Mike.”

Shayne pulled out a chair and sat down, studying Allegretti as he did so. The expression on the hood’s face was dour, his eyes dark with suspicion and hatred.

“Mike? What’s the rest of it?” He drummed the table lightly in a nervous gesture.

“Shayne.”

“With a Y?”

Shayne nodded.

The look Allegretti shot Ann Waterman was murderous. He said to her, in a tone that was almost a snarl, a sound from an angry and aroused jungle animal. “You met Mr. Shayne last night in the lounge of the Royal Admiral, for the first time?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her voice shook and freighted with fear she continued. “We just had a drink and talked.”

“About what?”

“We talked about boats,” Shayne said. “I like to fish, and Ann said you owned a boat and often sailed up and down the Intracoastal. I thought that maybe you’d allow me to go along some day and fish.”

“Mr. Shayne,” Allegretti said, his tone cold, “I don’t play games. You know who I am, and I know who you are.” He stuck a forefinger about an inch from Ann Waterman’s nose. “You don’t know, you stupid bitch.” He held his voice low. “Mr. Shayne, is a notorious private investigator, you understand, Miss Waterman?”

“How was I to know?” she defended herself. “He doesn’t wear a badge. He didn’t even tell me his last name. So, how was I to know?”

“That’s your trouble. Any man who buys you a drink is your immediate friend. What kept you from inviting him up to your apartment for the night?”

“Now, Pete, that’s uncalled for. We had one drink, talked a while and that was it. It was all very innocent.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding, Shayne? I know this broad. You don’t. She’s the prize pickup of this whole damned town. Everybody knows little Ann. Look at her! Look how she’s dressed! The only thing she doesn’t show is what the law doesn’t allow, but she will if you ask her.”

“I think you’re out of line, Pete. If you think that way about her, then why are you with her?”

“Because I hate her guts and her being with me makes her nervous. I like to see her nervous, shaking inside, not knowing what I will do to her from one minute to the next.”

“Why? Is that important to you?”

“Sure as hell. I started out with her, at first, because I felt she was my kind of gal. Everything was cosy until two weeks after we met. She’s a cheat and a double-crosser. I sit with her, and everybody who’s had her laughs at me. I’m waiting. At the right time, I’ll square things.”

“Pete, you’re nuts.”

“You hear that, you dumb bitch,” he said to Ann. “You hear how suddenly he knows me so well, it’s Pete this and Pete that.”

“I’m sorry, Pete.” She apologized. “I wouldn’t have invited him if I’d known he was a private detective.”

“Why don’t you consult with me first before you bring your damned pickups over. You and those damn tramp girl-friends of yours, Dottie, Marge, Teddy, Louise. Don’t you know any decent broads?”

“My friends are all decent, and so am I?” she protested, her anger welling up into enough courage to fight back.

Allegretti let out a hollow laugh. “Those broads decent? So are two-dollar hookers, except your pals don’t charge money. Like you, all it takes is two drinks and a sandwich.” His anger had risen and he was now in a murderous rage, alive and burning.

Shayne nodded to Patterson and Wilson. The two moved around in their seats at the bar. At that moment Tom Elfmont walked in. Allegretti spotted him and let out an obscene oath.

“Another one!” He snapped at Ann. “The joint is loaded with fuzz. You brought them in, you lousy tramp. You set me up, God damn you!”

“I didn’t. I don’t know any of these men. I’ve never seen them before.”

“That isn’t your fault!” he spat out. “Let’s go.” He threw a bill on the table and stood up. Ann looked at Shayne. There was an expression of deep fear in her eyes. Allegretti snapped, “Let’s go.” There was no mistaking the ominous threat in his tone.

Ann got up. As she passed Shayne, she whispered, “Follow us. He’s going to beat me.”

When they walked from the lounge, Shayne, Patterson, Wilson and Elfmont walked out behind them into the bright sunlight.

IV

Allegretti took Ann Waterman by an arm and pulled her to his car, a black Lincoln Continental. She balked when he tried to push her inside.

“Don’t, Pete — please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded. “I didn’t know who he was and he didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Don’t hurt me. I don’t deserve it. I’ve been good to you. I did what you wanted, me to do, didn’t I? I ran your errands.” Then in a low voice, “I delivered all those packets of diamonds.”

“Sure, sure, but you lied to me. I know you did. Shayne told you his name. If you had told me that, we wouldn’t have remained in there,” he nodded toward the lounge. “The trouble with you, Ann, is that you are a liar. You lie in your teeth.

“You lie about things that don’t even matter, but you lie. You’ve lied to me a dozen times over, about that old lawyer in your building that you’ve been having an affair with, about everything else. I’ve had it with you. Get in the car or I’ll drop you right here.” He shoved her, hard.

She let out a wild scream. “Don’t! Don’t kill me!”

Shayne and Elfmont ran toward the car. Allegretti saw them, threw an armlock around Ann’s neck and put a heavy caliber pistol to her head.

“Come on, fuzz, and I’ll spill this broad’s brains, if she has any, on the ground Back off!”

Elfmont made a move toward the car. Allegretti fired a shot in the ground. Ann Waterman screamed and fainted. The slug struck about a foot from where Elfmont stood, ricocheted erratically and struck a building across the alley. Allegretti shoved Ann into the car.

“You fuzz want this broad alive, stay away from me or she gets it first.” He shoved the inert woman into the front seat, got in, started the car and drove north on Ocean Drive.

“What now?” Shayne asked.

“We’ll follows.” Elfmont got into his car, picked up the phone and called headquarters. “Lieutenant Elfmont. I want an APB on a black Lincoln Continental, four door, License number, Boy, Charles, two — seven — nine. Florida State. Traveling north on Ocean Drive. Occupants are a man and woman. The man is heavily armed and must be considered dangerous. Do not intercept. I repeat. Do not intercept. I want his destination. We will follow.”

Lieutenant Elfmont turned to the group. “I want it distinctly understood that I am in charge of this operation. I will give the order. The life of my wife is at stake. This is of paramount importance to me, so don’t any of you play hero. This hood may lead us to the boat where my wife is being held captive. So just let him run.”

Shayne said, “Lieutenant, there’s a woman in that car who is also in danger. I put her there. I want to be damned sure she gets out.”

Lieutenant Elfmont gave Shayne a hard look. “You feel guilty about it?”

“Shouldn’t I? Besides, she gave us the big lead, the first we’ve had. We could have been days running around in circles if not for her.”

Shayne’s feeling of guilt was deep. There was something about Ann Waterman that bothered him. The thought struck him that she very well might be more maligned than she deserved. At any rate, he was going to move every road in hell to rescue her. Elfmont was concerned about his wife. As it should be. Shayne was more concerned about Ann Waterman.

He ran to his own car, the officers ran to theirs.

Allegretti drove north, at speeds just within the legal limit, evidently certain in his mind that his pursuers would not chance hitting the woman beside him. Time enough to make his move when he got near the Dom Colletti mansion and the boat.

There was a long winding road that led to the house and the dock. It was shielded by a heavy growth of ferns and trees that shut out the view from the main road. Once he got past the curve over the bridge he would speed up and drive into Colletti’s road, to the dock, and get under way into the Atlantic to the next hideout.

In the car with Allegretti, Ann Waterman pleaded desperately for her life.

Ann said, “Please, Pete,” her voice shaking with emotion, her heart pounding. “Please let me go. Let me get out of the car. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. I didn’t know who that man was. If you kill me—”

The words came from her throat in a rasp as if there was a collection suddenly of all the terrible nightmares that had driven her into screaming wakefulness. Her fear of death, of physical injury and pain, had always lived with her. She was a naturally timid person. Threatened once by a burglar who had broken into her New York apartment, leered at her naked figure and decided to rape her, she had submitted under a threat of bodily harm, assuring the rapist and burglar that she would not cry out, that she would cooperate.

“Don’t hurt me, Pete,” Ann pleaded again, “please! Don’t kill me.” She began to cry.

Allegretti suddenly speeded up. Sixty, seventy, eighty miles an hour. He left his pursuers far behind. He approached the Colletti driveway and turned in expertly.

One of those amazing coincidences, an imponderable that worked in Allegretti’s favor, occurred. Ahead of him was a black Continental similar to the one he was driving. A man and a woman were in the front seat.

Lieutenant Elfmont was in the first of the three cars following Allegretti. Behind him was Shayne, and behind Shayne were Patterson and Wilson. Elfmont followed the Continental for about a mile until he caught sight of the New York license plate. He swore aloud, braked to a screeching halt. The other cars drew up alongside.

“Fooled, dammit! Wrong car. That bastard must have turned off on one of those damned side roads.”

Shayne suddenly thought of what Tim Rourke had told him, that Dom Colletti was the only person he knew among the top men in the Organization who owned a boat.

Shayne called across. “Tommy, get a make on Dom Colletti’s address. That’s where Allegretti went.”

Elfmont picked up the phone and contacted headquarters in Miami Beach. He asked for an address on Dominick Colletti. The answer came back seconds later, and Elfmont relayed it to the rest of the group.

They soon found the home and moved in swiftly. When they arrived there they saw that the boat was already out on the water some two hundred yards.

Shayne yelled, “Call for a ’copter, Tommy, and the Coast Guard!”

Minutes later a police helicopter was in the sky over the area, and then the Coast Guard cutter appeared.

At Elfmont’s signal, the cutter moved into the docking area and the four men, Elfmont, Shayne, Patterson and Wilson, boarded it. The pursuit began, with the helicopter hovering over the boat occupied by Allegretto. Shayne looked through a powerful pair of binoculars, spotted Becky Elfmont and Ann Waterman near the rail with Allegretto behind them.

Elfmont used a bullhorn. “Pull into shore, Allegretti. You haven’t got a chance.”

“You want your wife and this broad alive?” Allegretti shouted back, “Then move away and call off that bird above.”

“No way, Allegretti. You’ve had it. Move into shore!”

For answer, Allegretti held a screaming Becky over the rail of the boat. “There’s sharks in the waters. Move back or she goes in!”

Shayne instructed the officer in command of the cutter to move closer. As the cutter closed, Shayne doffed his coat and shoes and moved up to the bow. So did Elfmont.

Allegretti dropped Becky into the water, then shoved Ann Waterman into the ocean after her. Sharks showed almost immediately. Two Coast Guard sharpshooters with high-powered rifles began shooting at the sharks. Shayne and Elfmont dove into the water and swam toward the two women, who were foundering helplessly, screaming for aid.

The sailors’ gunfire kept the sharks at bay. Two sharks were hit and blood appeared on the surface. The other sharks, maddened by the smell, moved toward the wounded fish as Shayne and Elfmont reached Becky and Ann Waterman.

Aboard the cutter, Sergeant Patterson grabbed a rifle from a sailor and took dead aim at Allegretti, who was still at the rail, firing at the two women. He was screaming invectives and shooting blindly.

Sergeant Patterson squeezed the trigger. His first shot spun the hood backward. He reeled but remained upright. The next shot split his throat and the blood gushed from him as if from a suddenly opened faucet under high pressure. He was dead before he hit the deck of the boat.

Shayne and Tom Elfmont had the women and swam with them toward the cutter, where they were lifted aboard. Becky and Ann were suffering from shock and fright. Ann was hysterical. It was decided to remove them to a hospital for observation.

The commanding officer of the cutter ordered Allegretti’s body removed from the yacht. He said. “I’ll call the police department here, and have them send out the coroner. They’re very touchy in this county about having their authority usurped. You understand, sir?”

Tom Elfmont nodded. “Of course, Lieutenant. You do what you think best.”

The ambulance arrived and took Becky and Ann to a hospital in Fort Lauderdale.

V

Shayne said, “I’d like to go over that yacht and see what turns up. Tommy, officially your in charge — so with your permission?”

“I’ll go along,” Elfmont replied. To Patterson he said, “You and Wilson wait here for the local police and the coroner, and see if you can’t smooth things over without too much fuss.”

“Sure, Tommy. You and Shayne go ahead.”

Shayne went through every drawer on the yacht, every nook and cranny. He was looking for some clue to the diamonds. He was certain in his mind that Allegretti had had something to do with the robbery, if, in fact, he wasn’t one of the actual robbers and the man who had pulled the trigger that resulted in the salesman’s murder.

Neither Shayne nor Elfmont found anything of importance except for a dozen thin sheets of paper, the type that jewelers use in which to wrap gems.

Shayne indicated them, said, “What do you think of it, Tommy?”

“Could be, but as evidence they mean nothing. Besides, who do we charge?”

“It’s Colletti’s yacht,” Shayne said.

“True, but it doesn’t mean anything. Any one of a dozen different guys, or gals for that matter, could have left those sheets there. Anyway, that doesn’t get you back the diamonds and that’s what you’re interested in.

“Colletti will be a hard nut to crack. He’s been around a long time and has powerful connections. I mean in the right places. I’m afraid you’ll have to dig deeper, Shayne.”

“I will, if I have to dig straight down into hell.”

“I see the local constabulary is with Patterson and Wilson. Let’s go out there. They may need some help.”

Two detectives from Homicide and the coroner were talking to Sergeant Patterson.

Elfmont introduced himself. “I’m in charge of the case, officer.”

“I’m Lieutenant Stanley Brooks. And this is Detective James Wynrod.” He glanced at Shayne.

Shayne grinned. “I’m Mike Shayne.”

Lieutenant Brooks scowled. “Mike Shayne, eh? You’re a little out of your territory, aren’t you?”

“So you know me,” Shayne replied.

“Word gets around. You haven’t answered my question.”

“We were in pursuit of Allegretto. He had abducted the woman named Ann Waterman. She was taken to the hospital, along with Mrs. Elfmont. He was going to kill both. Now, you wouldn’t have wanted us to stop our pursuit in a case like that merely because we crossed jurisdictional lines?”

“You have phones in your cars. You could have phoned and we’d have been glad to offer assistance.”

“Lieutenant,” Shayne said, “we had no idea or intention to usurp your authority. The pursuit was just too hot.”

“Maybe so. Now we have a murder on our hands, in addition to two abductions. This is a very quiet, reserved area, and all the people living here are important in one way or another. All hell is going to break loose tomorrow. That yacht belongs to Mr. Dominick Colletti, a very important man in the community. I don’t know what he will say about all this.”

“Lieutenant,” Shayne said, “I hate to tell you this, but only as a matter of enlightenment. Mr. Colletti is not only an important man in this community but in about forty-nine states as well. He happens to be one of the top men in the mafia, a suspect in several murders and a million-dollar diamond heist.”

“I can’t believe that. Mr. Colletti is highly respected, has a large importing and exporting business, is a member of the church and contributes to many charities.”

“So did Al Capone and Lucky Luciano and Lepke Buchalter, the man who ran Murder Incorporated.”

“Well,” Lieutenant Brooks hedged, “your suspicions may be valid but it’s hard to believe. Anyway, since this is our bailiwick, I think you’d better leave the matter in our hands. We’ll talk with Mr. Colletti and report our findings’ to Lieutenant Elfmont at the Miami Beach Police Department.”

“I’m sorry, Brooks, but I can’t buy that. I’ve been engaged by the Monarch Insurance Company to locate diamonds that were stolen from a salesman in the Americana Hotel in Miami Beach, one who, incidentally, was murdered. Murder One, Lieutenant. You have no idea how much heat will be generated if you make any attempt to interfere in this investigation.

“Mr. Colletti is also wanted by the FBI for crimes involving Interstate shipment of stolen goods. Furthermore, his importing and exporting business deals primarily with shipments of heroin. Get the point, Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant Brooks’ face turned crimson. Shayne knew why. His discomfiture could mean only one thing — payoffs.

Lieutenant Brooks said, “Well, at any rate, I must ask you all to follow me to the station and make out a report. This is, after all, involving a capital offense.”

“A police officer, Sergeant David Patterson here, shot and killed Allegretti in the line of duty,” Shayne replied. “Allegretti was in the act of trying to kill Mrs. Elfmont and Miss Ann Waterman after he threw them into the ocean in the midst of a school of sharks.”

“Routine, Shayne,” Brooks said. “I must insist on the report.”

“We’ll follow you,” Elfmont said. “I understand the necessity.”

In the police station, they were taken into the office of Inspector Martin Kreuger, a florid-faced, heavy-set man. The four visitors were invited to take seats.

“Which one of you is Lieutenant Elfmont?”

“I am,” Elfmont said. He then introduced the others.

Inspector Kreuger stared at Shayne with steely eyes. “I understand, Mr. Shayne, that you are a private investigator.”

Shayne nodded.

“And you are investigating a million-dollar diamond heist?”

“I’m looking into it.”

“On whose authority?” Inspector Kreuger frowned.

“The Monarch Insurance Company.”

“They have no official standing here, Mr. Shayne.”

“I understand that. I am also under instructions of Chief Painter of the Miami Beach Police Department to add to that department’s information and investigation.”

“The Miami Beach Police Department has no jurisdiction here, either.”

“I am assisting Sergeant Patterson and Detective Wilson of the Fort Lauderdale Police Department. They were assigned by Chief Painter.”

Kreuger stared at both Patterson and Wilson. Then, “I was told you suspect Mr. Dominick Colletti of participation in this robbery. Is that correct?”

“Inspector, I don’t know if you were apprised of the fact that the salesman who was robbed was killed. We are thus also investigating a capital offense.”

“On what basis are you intending to annoy Mr. Colletti, a responsible citizen of this community, with your investigation?”

“Peter Allegretti. My information is that he was in the employ of Mr. Colletti.”

Elfmont was fuming. He said, “Inspector, my wife went through a harrowing experience and is in a hospital. I am very anxious to see her. I have two daughters who are only three and two years old. So, if you wish a formal statement I would appreciate it if you would call in your stenographer and get it over with. Otherwise, I am going to walk right out of here.”

Shayne said, “Everything that transpired was in the line of police business. The killing of Allegretti was demanded under the circumstances, if you haven’t been told that already. Sergeant Patterson and Detective Wilson are prudent, responsible police officers. They saved the lives of two women by their actions.”

“Well,” Inspector Kreuger said, drumming his fingers on the desk, “unfortunately, I find that the stenographer assigned to this department is in court with the district attorney. Suppose we put this off until tomorrow morning, at nine o’clock?”

“That will be fine, Inspector,” Elfmont said. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Shayne,” Kreuger said, “before you intrude yourself on Mr. Colletti or anyone else in this community, I want you to see me first. Do we understand that?”

“We sure do, Inspector,” Shayne said acidly. “You may count on it.”

In the street, Patterson asked Shayne what he thought of it.

“That big Dutchman is on the take, too. But I’ll give him a few things to think about before I’m finished with him.”

Elfmont said, “I’m going to the hospital. I’ll be in touch with you later.” He extended his hand to Patterson. “Thanks, Dave. That was good shooting. That bastard intended to kill both women.”

Shayne said, “I’ll go along to the hospital, Tommy. I want to talk to Miss Waterman.”

VI

When Shayne came into the room where Ann Waterman lay on a narrow hospital bed he saw that she was pale. Her eyes were closed and there was a curious twisted look of suffering around her mouth. A twinge of regret for what he had caused her shot through him.

He touched her cheek lightly with a foreginger. “Ann...”

She opened her eyes slowly, turned her head, recognized Shayne. Tears welled from her eyes.

“He — was going to kill me,” she said and shuddered.

“Nothing to worry about anymore, Ann. He’s dead. He’ll never bother you again.”

“He has friends. So many of them. They always came to the table. I’m sure they were Mafia.”

Shayne saw that, while Allegretto might be dead, his ghost was peculiarly alive. The redhead pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, picked up her hand and patted it. He was surprised at how small it was — a child’s hand, soft and well tended, the nails long enough to be fashionable, rounded and with little half moons at the bases.

She was thoroughly frightened and, when she spoke, her lips trembled. All her vivacity was dissipated by fear.

Shayne pressed her hand gently. “Ann, there’s nothing to worry about, believe me. There’s a policeman outside your door at this moment — there will be one around the clock. You will be fully protected at all times.”

“I’m scared,” she murmured. “That man was a devil. He could walk through walls.”

Shayne smiled reassuringly, said, “Ann, if he’s going to walk through walls now, he’ll have to get a lot of parts for his body. He’s in the morgue, completely disassembled.”

“Yes, but his friends...” She shivered again. “They’re like him — all of them.”

Shayne felt this was the moment to make his pitch. “We want to get those friends, Ann, once and for all. Then you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“I hope not,” she said, her voice low.

“We need your help.”

“Oh, no!” she cried. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Mr. Shayne, please, don’t ask me — don’t make me. If I tell you anything at all, one of those men, one of his friends will get into this room somehow and kill me. Please, don’t. I don’t want to die yet.”

“Ann, listen to me. Look at me. Why do you think that policeman is out there?”

Ann shook her head. “No,” she muttered. “They are planning to kill me, aren’t they?”

Shayne tried to soothe her with gentle words and assurances of safety. “You’ll be protected even after you leave the hospital. Ann, please listen — if we don’t put these men away where they can’t harm you, you’ll always live with fear, no matter where you are or where you go.”

“But if I send word to Mr. Colletti that I won’t ever say anything, then maybe they won’t bother me.”

“You said it, Ann — maybe. That’s not how these hoods think or operate. As long as you’re alive, you represent a threat to their safety.”

“I don’t believe it. I talked with Mr. Colletti. He’s a very nice man, a gentleman.”

Shayne was quick to pursue the opening she gave him. “Ann, this very nice man — this gentleman — is responsible, directly or indirectly, for the murder of twenty-two men all over the country in the last year alone.

“We believe he was behind the murder of Johnny Roselli here in Miami. You must have read of it or heard it on the TV news shows. All those men were killed because Colletti felt they might talk to grand juries about mob activities. You” — he took a shot in the dark — “know something involving Colletti directly. You can put him in prison for life.

“Do you think he’d take that kind of chance with you? He’ll have you killed and bury your body a hundred miles out in the Atlantic, or in some lonely grave where no one will ever find you. Now, be smart — level with me and I promise you we’ll see to it that you are covered every minute of the day and night.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked Shayne and gripped his hand. “God, help me! Am I doing the right thing, Mr. Shayne?”

Shayne touched her face gently. “Yes, you are doing the right thing. Did Allegretti ever tell you anything that might be used against Colletti?”

Her answer gave him a jolt

Ann said, “Peter gave me packets of diamonds to deliver to Mr. Colletti.”

Shayne leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. He wanted to be very careful not to upset her willingness to continue.

“That’s one thing,” Shayne said. “How many times did you take these packets of diamonds to Mr. Colletti?”

“I think about six times.”

“How many packets on each occasion?”

“Five or six.”

“Did you ever get a look at what was inside the packets?”

“Oh, yes. Peter gave me a few. I have them in my bag.”

Shayne wanted to whoop. He reached over on the table behind him and handed Ann her bag. She dug around in the bag while Shayne sat there burning with impatience. She finally brought up two tissue-paper packets. Shayne unfolded the packets carefully. In each were three glittering stones, perfectly cut, blue-white, without visible flaw. Each of them, was in the half-to-full carat weight.

Shayne said, “Ann, these stones were taken in a robbery from a salesman in the Americana Hotel. The salesman was pistol-whipped and died. You mustn’t keep these. Their possession makes you an accessory to murder.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “They are so beautiful...”

“These stones could be the springboard that will put Colletti in prison.” He didn’t want to tell her that she would have to testify. Not now.

He added, “Did you happen to see where these came from? I mean where Allegretti had them stashed?”

“He took them out from under the dashboard of his car. He just reached under and took out some of the packets.”

Shayne cursed himself for his stupidity. They had searched the yacht when their more obvious target would have been Allegretti’s car. He said, “You rest, and don’t worry about a thing. When the doctor says you’re okay, well take you home.”

“Thank you for everything. Are you coming back today?” Ann sounded wistful. “It gets lonely here, just lying in bed. I wish I had a Martini.”

Shayne grinned. “I’ll bring some back. The doctor may skin me alive, but I think you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you. You’re very nice.”

Shayne kissed her cheek, lightly. “So are you, Ann — very nice.”

“That was an awfully brotherly kiss, Mike.”

“I’ll do better the next time,” he promised.

“I’ll be here... waiting.”

Shayne gave her a big smile and went out. To the cop on duty in the corridor, he said, “Mister, that’s a very important gal in there, a witness. I merely want to repeat what you must have already been told. No one, and I mean no one, other than the doctors assigned and the nurses, are to be allowed in there, and you check them out first, closely — damn closely. Understand?”

“Sure. I was told that much by Lieutenant Elfmont.”

“Good!”

VII

Shayne found a phone booth in the hall and called Tom Elfmont. “Tommy, we’ve been dopes. We forgot to search Allegretti’s car. According to Miss Waterman, that’s where he kept the diamonds.”

“Diamonds?” Elfmont said, a note of surprise in his voice.

“Yes. Here’s a hot one for you. Allegretti gave Ann Waterman two packets of diamonds, three stones in each packet. I’ve got ’em. Can you figure a smart guy like Allegretti giving hot diamonds to a dame?”

“Well, obviously, Ann Waterman is no ordinary dame. When it comes to women, the smartest ones are often the biggest fools.”

“I won’t argue the point. She gave or delivered about thirty-five packets of diamonds to Colletti. He was fencing them. No wonder Allegretti could throw around hundred-dollar bills.” A pause, then, “Can you get me a search warrant on Colletti’s home?”

“I can, but we’re going to have to tangle with those county creeps. We’re pretty damned sure they’re on the take, so they’ll give Colletti every protection.”

“I understand that, Tommy. Get a federal search warrant along with the local one.”

“On what grounds?”

“Interstate transportation of stolen goods,” Shayne said.

“No federal judge will buy that without sufficient proof.”

“Tommy, Allegretti was dumb enough to give Ann Waterman those stones, which I now have. But Colletti is too smart to try to fence them locally, so sure as hell they were mailed out or sent by messenger to another state, possibly to Chicago. While I think of it, get a record of his out-of-town phone calls.”

“Shayne,” Elfmont said, “my concern was to get Becky back safely. The diamond deal is your baby. You’re going to collect a cool hundred grand.”

“Tommy an innocent man was murdered in that robbery, and that’s homicide. Right up your alley and your problem.”

Shayne heard Elfmont chuckle. “So, why not talk of the homicide instead of the diamonds?”

“You’re nit-picking, Tommy. One goes with the other. Don’t play games with me. We’ve got to move fast.”

“Okay, Shayne. What else?”

“I think we should have Patterson and Wilson along.”

“I agree. They’re on the team. I’ll get in touch with them. Where do we meet?”

“In your office, tomorrow morning at eight? Okay?”

“That’s fine.”

Both men hung up.

The next morning Shayne met with Elfmont, Patterson, Wilson and a fourth man, a federal Marshal, who was introduced as George Walsh. He was tall and heavy-set with coarse features, small, close-set eyes and puffy cheeks. He extended a ham-like hand to Shayne.

“I know about you, Shayne,” Walsh said. “What’s your role in this caper?”

“Monarch Insurance,” Shayne replied.

“I see.” Walsh nodded. “Well, Shayne, the picture has changed a little.” He extracted a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket of his coat. “This is a federal search warrant, and I go with it. Diamonds, shipped out of the state in violation of the federal statue involving stolen goods in interstate commerce. Any diamonds which may turn up will be turned over to me as evidence which I shall turn over to the federal district attorney.”

“There is also the little matter of a capital offense, murder one, committed during the commission of a felony.”

“That’s our province,” Elfmont declared. “It takes precedence over the robbery, if some of the diamonds should turn up.”

“Lieutenant,” Walsh said, “I’m not going to argue with you over the fine points of the law as to precedence,” the Marshal replied. “However, if you don’t get in my way, I sure as hell won’t get in yours. That goes for you, too, Shayne.”

Shayne said, “We may run into trouble with the local police. They seem to be concerned about Colletti’s welfare.”

“I’ve already been briefed on that by these three officers, Shayne. I know all about it, and about that pig, Inspector Kreuger. As a matter of fact, the government has received many complaints about violations of civil rights and some police brutality. We’d like a crack at this guy, especially if we can prove corruption and a possible tie-in with Colletti. Okay, let’s go.”

The group arrived at Colletti’s mansion, drove into the grounds, found Allegretti’s car. Shayne went to it and immediately looked under the dashboard. His hand came in contact with hard steel. He yanked out a .22-caliber pistol that had been held in place by clips. He then reached under the dashboard again, and brought out another .22-caliber pistol. He handed the two guns to Elfmont.

“Could be, Tommy. The same type pistols that have been used in the killings across the country. Ballistics should tell us if one or both were used, maybe on Johnny Roselli.”

Elfmont put the guns in separate evidence bags and handed them to Sergeant Patterson.

Shayne got back into the car and continued his search under the dashboard. Cleverly, concealed behind the steering post was a chamois bag. Shayne brought it out, undid the strings and opened it wide. Inside were several packets. Shayne knew, without looking that each one held diamonds.

At that moment, two uniformed police officers approached them. The taller of the two said, “You guys were told to see and talk with Inspector Kreuger before you came out here. Okay, let’s go. The inspector isn’t going to like this.”

Marshal Walsh waved the federal warrant. “He said, I’m federal Marshal Walsh, and this is a federal warrant signed by a federal judge. You go back and tell Kreuger that if he so much as shakes a little finger to impede our investigation, I’ll have his big ass in a jail cell faster than he can move. And that goes the pair of you, too,” the Marshal told them.

The two cops glared at Walsh, then at the others, then walked away without a word.

Walsh grinned at the group. “By God!” he said. “Nobody monkeys with the federal government, and I am the federal government.”

“Let’s go over and talk to Mr. Colletti,” Shayne said. “I’m very anxious to tangle with him.”

“Okay,” said Marshall Walsh. “That’s your part of the show, so you move to the front. Is that okay with you, Lieutenant?”

“Perfectly,” Elfmont agreed. “We’ll be back-up. Let’s go. I want to meet this crumb myself. I’ve heard a lot about him.”

A tall, lean young man, sharply dressed, answered Shayne’s ring.

“We want to talk to Mr. Colletti,” Shayne said.

“Yeah,” the young man said, “so do a lot of other people. Write him a letter.”

Shayne said, “The large gentleman behind me is a federal marshal with a federal warrant in his hand. If you don’t get out of the way, let us in and tell Mr. Colletti we want to talk to him, the Marshal will charge you with resisting arrest and interfering with a police officer in the line of his duties. Now — move!”

At that moment, Dominick Colletti appeared directly behind the young man. Colletti was in his late fifties, tall distinguished in appearance, with graying temples, regular features, handsome.

His tone was brusque and authoritative. “What the hell is going on, Angelo?”

“Fuzz, Dad. One of them is a federal marshal with a warrant. They want to talk with you.”

“Let them in — in the library.” Colletti turned and walked away.

Angelo led them into the library, scowling every step of the way. The room looked like a motion picture set depicting the library of a man of great wealth and erudition. The shelves which spanned the entire length of the room from floor to ceiling were filled with tomes of every kind, most of them in rich morocco bindings. Colletti sat in a deep armchair. He glanced from one to the other until his eyes fell on Shayne.

“I recognize no one here but you,” he told the redhead. “And you only because I was given a definitive description by Inspector Kreuger. Now, what the hell is this all about?”

Marshal Walsh handed him the paper. “A federal warrant, Mr. Colletti. We want to search the premises.”

“You do? Well, I want to fly like a bird but God had other ideas. For what, may I ask, are you searching?”

“The warrant says diamonds stolen in a robbery in Miami Beach, Dominick,” Shayne cut in.

Colletti glared hard at Shayne. “Until I determine that you and I can talk on a first-name basis, Mr. Shayne, you address me as Mr. Colletti. The chances that we may ever arrive at that station are distinctly remote. You’re a private investigator, so as far as I am concerned you have no formal authority, no police standing. Consequently I consider you a very unpleasant intruder in my home. Are you the sonofabitch that shot and killed Pete Allegretti on my boat?”

“No, he isn’t,” Sergeant Patterson said. “I shot him. And I, Mister Colletti,” Patterson added, stressing the Mister, “am Detective Sergeant David Patterson of the Fort Lauderdale Police Department. If you refer to me as a sonofabitch, I’m very apt to forget myself and break your jaw.”

Colletti nodded. “Well, I see I’m heavily outweighed, so I’ll call my attorney. Even things up a little, gentlemen.”

“We’d like to go over the premises first,” Shayne said.

“Who’s in charge of this detail?” Colletti asked, his voice rising in deep anger.

“I am,” Tom Elfmont said.

“Okay. Then you tell me what you want, not that misfit.” He pointed a forefinger at Shayne.

VIII

“Dominick,” Mike Shayne said, “your big-shot front doesn’t reach me. A dozen years ago, I was with a team of Miami Beach cops who picked you up with about fifty slips, bets on horses, that you had collected from various doormen on the Beach. You were just a runner then.

“To me, you’re still a runner, a punk taking orders from the big boys. Now, if you don’t want to be taken back to Fort Lauderdale or the Beach, get off that phony high-horse and cooperate. For your information, I represent the Monarch Insurance Company.

“A salesman was robbed and killed, and a million dollars in cut and uncut stones taken from him. I know that Pete Allegretti was involved in the heist. Probably in the murder. If you have any of the stones in your possession, you, Mister Bigshot, are an accessory to murder. Do we understand each other?”

“Lieutenant” — Colletti addressed Elfmont — “I still wish to call my attorney, especially in the face of the accusations made by this redheaded shamus.” He made a guttural sound in his throat, and spat toward Shayne. “Shamus, you stink. It will take ten grand to fumigate this room after you leave.”

“You should have had it done long ago. It’s been polluted from the moment you set foot in it.”

Angelo Colletti moved in front of Shayne. “You don’t talk to my father like that, you creep!” the young man snarled. “I’ll have you wiped out.”

Mike Shayne countered, “You’ll have me killed, little boy?” His voice dripped sarcasm. “You can’t do it, of course. Especially since Allegretti is dead,” he taunted.

“Angelo, please leave the room,” Dominic ordered. “I am quite capable of handling this. Go upstairs and tell your sister to dress, that we have uninvited company who might embarrass her.” He turned to the group, avoiding Shayne. “My daughter has been ill. I hope you will extend that courtesy to her. She’s only eighteen.”

Angelo left the room. Dominick turned to Shayne. “I understand perfectly now. You are in search of stolen diamonds, engaged by the Monarch Insurance Company, who don’t want to pay out a million-dollar loss.” He eyed the redhead critically. “Shayne, you disappoint me. From all I’ve been told, you’re a clever operator. As such, you should have come alone. I’m not a difficult man to get along with.”

“Dominick,” Shayne said pointedly, “I’m well aware of how you solve your difficulties. Allegretto is dead. Who’s the new hit man?”

Marshal Walsh said, “I think we’ll go on and search the premises. We’re wasting our time here.” He nodded to Elfmont, Patterson and Wilson. The four left the room, leaving Shayne alone with Colletti.

Shayne started to think. Colletti was no fool. That shot he threw at him about coming alone was a feeler, an offer to trade. But on whose terms? Colletti was a Don, high up in the National Council. He was hard and cruel, more so than Allegretti or his other hired gunmen.

Shayne knew Colletti’s background well. He had been a pickup man for a numbers syndicate in Chicago, a steerer for crooked gambling joints, a dope pusher. Colletti hated the men who used him and swore that one day he would be on top, bigger than any of them.

When the cops turned the heat on the town, Colletti fled Chicago. More than death itself, he feared a prison cell. He had been picked up once for investigation and held in city jail for twenty-four hours before being released. He had been like a wild animal suddenly caged.

When he fled Chicago he went to St. Louis. No one wanted him. Cleveland — the same thing. New York — he tried them all — Lucky Luciano, Lepke Buchalter, the fast-rising Carlo Gambino. They turned him down.

He wound up in Miami and hit pay dirt. He rose steadily from pickup man, to supervisor of pickup men, to the role of lieutenant to Sam “Mops” Vitale. When Vitale was mysteriously murdered, Dom Colletti took over.

Shayne said, “Okay, Dom we’re alone. I’ll go back to what you said, that I should have come alone. Here we are.”

“I’ll be frank with you, Shayne. I don’t trust the fuzz — Never did. And private investigators, a lot less, if you’ll forgive the assessment. It is said without rancor. How about a hundred grand?”

“You’re close,” Shayne said. “Monarch will pay me that much when I return the diamonds.”

“Return the diamonds?” Colletti shook his head. “How the hell are you going to find them?”

Shayne grinned. “You’ll tell me.” He spread his hands. “As simple as that, Dom.”

“Shayne,” Colletti growled, his face blazing with anger, “let’s get one thing straight. I deal, on my terms. I wouldn’t tell you the time of day if I owned Big Ben, and I wouldn’t give you a drink of water if I had all the water in Florida.

“But I gotta hand it to you — you’ve got more guts than a butcher in a slaughter house. How the hell did you find me? Only a handful of people know my address, and sure as hell none of those told you.”

“Your yacht, Dom. The registration. Fancy playthings, mansions, yachts, beautiful women have their compensations — also they’re handicaps. Shall we talk? On both levels, yours and mine?”

“I’m listening.”

“Dom, you’ve come a long way from being a gopher boy. Unless you’re smart, you’re going to find yourself in a little six by eight, eating food that will gag you and wearing coarse clothing that will make you itch.”

Colletti gave an involuntary shudder that Shayne didn’t miss.

“I’m willing to let you off the hook, if — you’ll play ball. I don’t give a damn what the fuzz in this hamlet do. I know, sure as hell, they’re on the take. The federal people may come in and take a look at Fatso Kreuger’s income, and his holdings. What they come up with may put Fatso away for several years for income tax evasion. Who will take his place, Dom? An honest cop maybe? And where will you be? Your little playhouse will fall apart and tumble down around your ears.”

Colletti was thoughtful, his head against the back of the chair, his eyes closed. He opened them and looked at Shayne.

“Two hundred grand in small bills, unmarked.”

“You don’t understand, Dom. I want the diamonds — all of them.”

“There you go again,” Colletti said, rising from his chair and pacing the room. “A cop all the way. Who the hell will know except you and me.”

“That’s the trouble, Dom. I’ll know.”

At that moment, a young woman came into the library. She had long black hair, enormous black eyes with long lashes that added to their appearance of depth. She went directly to Colletti.

“Daddy, is anything wrong? Why are all those men going through the house?”

Shayne rose.

Colletti said, “My daughter, Angeline. Honey, this is Mr. Mike Shayne. He’s not a policeman. I think he’s going to be a friend.”

Angelina nodded. Shayne nodded back. No words. It was all in her eyes. She regarded the detective as an intruder. Angelo had apparently informed her. The mob chief assured Angelina that nothing was wrong.

“Honey, Mr. Shayne and I have some important things to discuss. Why don’t you go back upstairs. I’ll have breakfast with you later.”

She leaned kissed Colletti on the cheek, turned and left the room without a glance at the detective.

“That’s a charming young lady,” Shayne said.

“Takes after her mother. My wife died three years ago. I’m very proud of Angelina. She’s only nineteen. Finishing school.”

“I can see that,” Shayne said. He had avoided all mention of Ann Waterman, wanting to keep her out of it. He was certain that if Colletti even suspected Ann had given information about the diamonds he would have her killed.

Mike Shayne said, “Dom, I’ve got so much on you, you don’t have a chance. So do yourself a favor, and save that lovely daughter of yours a lot of heartache. You come all the way with me — and I mean all the way — the diamond heist, the killings across the country, the Roselli murder — and I’ll guarantee you full immunity for your information and testimony.”

“Shayne,” Colletti sat back in his chair and lit a cigaret, seemingly completely at ease, “I offered you two hundred grand. Doesn’t that tell you anything? I’ve got more cash than Rockefeller, and I can get that much more from the National Syndicate Council. You take me to jail and I’ll be out before they can turn the key on me.

“After that, my attorneys will tear holes in your case until the judge laughs you out of court. You want to be a hero and return the stolen diamonds to the Monarch Insurance Company?

“Maybe I can help you. I’ve got contacts. I could get them back, and my offer still goes. Two-hundred grand to get off my back and call off your dogs.”

Shayne was thoughtful, going over in his mind which angle to use and still keep Ann Waterman out of the picture.

He said, “It isn’t that simple, Dom. There have been twenty-two killings across the country. All of them committed with a twenty-two caliber pistol, the kind we found in Allegretti’s car, two of them. We have done a lot of research in the last twenty-four hours. The teletype works fast. I’ll tell you what we’ve got.

“On January thirteen, nineteen seventy-six, Raymond Lundgren, a coin dealer, was murdered in Sierra Madre. Lundgren was to have been a prosecution witness against two members of the Patriarca organization in New Jersey. Are you interested, Dom?”

Colletti smiled. “Very much. I read it in all the papers.”

Mike Shayne went on. “On February eleven, nineteen seventy-six, Joseph Barboza was murdered in a San Francisco hideout. Barboza was an enforcer for certain New England organized crime figures. Am I getting warm, Dom?”

“Like a slab of ice. You figure me in those capers, Shayne? From here? Thousands of miles away?”

“Dom, Al Capone was in his Palm Island estate on February fourteen, nineteen twenty-nine, when the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre happened. Sure as hell, he okayed it, and then went to Florida for his alibi. I’ve got a couple more for you.

“On December fifteen, nineteen seventy-five, Alan Wellman, a Beverly Hills attorney, and his wife, Renate were shot to death in a bedroom of their Sherman Oaks home. Wellman had been a government witness in a federal case involving theft of a fifty-thousand-dollar U.S. Treasury note, and was scheduled to testify in U.S. District Court in Philadelphia on January twelve, nineteen seventy-six. We have information that you handled that deal, Dom. Am I getting hot?”

“Not so far as I’m concerned, Shayne. Not a shred of valid evidence.”

“Now, the Roselli killing. Those two twenty-two caliber pistols we found in Allegretti’s car may just be the ones used in the Giancanna and Roselli killings, as well as some of the others. We’ll run ballistics, and sure as hell we’ll come up with enough information to put them in your hands first, and then in Allegretti’s. Am I warm now?”

“Not so far as I’m concerned,” Colletti replied. “You’ve got nothing so far to link me with anything you’ve said.”

“Okay, Dom,” Shayne said, and pointed a finger at him, “The diamond heist and the murder of the salesman. I’ve got a witness who will swear that she delivered five or six packets of diamonds to you, and that you gave her envelopes of cash which she delivered to Allegretto. How does that hit you, Dom?”

“I’m impressed, by the extent of your research, but I still don’t see how any of it affects me.”

IX

The time had come to spring Miss Ann Waterman on him. Shayne said, “Dom, Allegretti’s part-time girl-friend, Ann Waterman, delivered some five or six packets of diamonds to you on at least a half-dozen occasions. You gave her sizable amounts of money to deliver to Allegretto. That sure as hell places you in as an accessory to the heist and the murder of the salesman.”

For a moment, Colletti’s face became a mask of rage and he lost his composure. “That dumb bastard Allegretto and his women! I told him a dozen times not to put his business on a table in front of a broad. That’s one of the women he tried to kill. And the other was Lieutenant Elfmont’s wife?”

“That’s right, Dom. He kidnapped Mrs. Elfmont. We could add that little caper to the rest of it.”

Lieutenant Elfmont, Marshal Walsh, Sergeant Patterson and Detective Wilson came into the room. Elfmont shook his head to indicate to Shayne that they had found nothing.

Shayne said, “Dom, you have a safe, don’t you? We want to look into it?”

“Yes, I have a safe but you’d be wasting your time. If I had anything incriminating around here, I certainly wouldn’t keep it in my safe — the first place police would want to look. Anyway, I’ll open it.”

It was a wall safe in the library, masked by a painting. Colletti opened it. There were no diamonds inside.

“I hope that does, it gentlemen,” Colletti said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to join my daughter at breakfast. She’s very upset about all this.”

Shayne said, “Dom, think over what I said. It’s your only out. We’ve got too much against you.”

“You’ve got nothing! All you’ve got is that poor broad who attracted Allegretti, the nit-wit. Who is this Ann Waterman? I’ll tell you — a cocktail lounge pickup, a lush.” He spat out the words.

“She picks up johns and gives them whatever they want — and for what? A few drinks and a lunch. Shayne, I got the word on her yesterday and had her checked out. What the hell do you think I am? Some dumb hood like Allegretti?”

“No, and neither does anyone else here,” said the redhead. “But don’t play us cheap either. I want to read you something. This is a copy of a telegram you received about two months ago.”

“Dom, we have information and documents verifying that information relative to scheduled appearances before various committees at some near-future dates. You are urged to neutralize the principal adversaries at the earliest possible time. Dino”

“What does that prove, Shayne?” Colletti asked, but much of the bravado had gone out of his tone.

“I’ll tell you what it proves, Dom,” Mike Shayne retorted. “Shortly after this wire was sent, right after Giancanna was killed in Chicago, the other men scheduled to appear before Senate Investigating Committees, and Grand Juries, state and federal, were wiped out. We will prove you were the force behind those killings, and that of Roselli in Miami.

“You have your avenues of information, but so do we — and we also have unlimited funds to use in furthering our investigations, plus trained people in all divisions, dedicated public servants. Who have you got? I mean that you can really trust? Like Al Capone once said, ‘The only honest face I ever saw was on a dog.’

“I’ll make a prediction right now, Dom. Either you play ball with us or you’ll be facing more murder raps than a hundred top lawyers will be able to square. Then, no deals. Now’s the time.”

“All that, Shayne, on that lousy telegram and that cheap broad whose testimony wouldn’t convince anyone. A fresh kid just out of law school would tear her credibility to shreds. Do what you want. I’m standing pat.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Dom. You’ll have had time to think things over.”

“Don’t waste your time, Shayne.”

The redhead laughed, said, “I get paid for every minute of it.”

Outside the house, Shayne asked the group for their opinions. Tom Elfmont said, “I don’t know. Colletti doesn’t strike me as a man who’ll cop out. There’s no doubt in my mind that he has some powerful connections in the area. You expect him to crack, Shayne?”

“I think so. If not for himself, then for his daughter. He would do a lot to save her from exposure as the daughter of a hood. There’s a strong bond between the two. I caught that.”

Sergeant Patterson said, “That may be true, but if I were you I’d do something quick and thorough about protecting your star witness. Unless I miss my guess, Colletti at this very moment is setting up plans to have Ann Waterman killed. If your theory is correct about his being the force behind all the killings, on orders of the Syndicate Council, of course, then having Waterman hit is the least of them all. Waterman is your baby, Shayne. You brought her into the picture.”

“Sure I did,” Shayne agreed. “But without her we might still be looking for Becky and have no lead at all on the diamond heist and killing. And that, is your baby — right, Patterson?”

“The robbery, yes,” Patterson agreed. “The murder belongs to Homicide, and that’s Elfmont. At any rate, we all seem to be after a slice of the same pie.”

“Yeah,” Marshal Walsh agreed, “and I want that fat Kreuger. I’m going to talk to IRS about him. That should give him a lot to worry about.”

X

Sergeant Patterson was right. No sooner had the group left Colletti’s home than he was on the phone. He dialed the number of a Beach hotel. “Room six twenty-five,” he said.

There was a series of rings and the hotel operator said, “I’m sorry but six twenty-five doesn’t answer. Is there a message?”

Colletti left his number. “Say it’s urgent.”

It was his first big mistake.

A half-hour later, Colletti’s call was returned. “Got your message, Dom. What’s up?”

“Plenty. Get over here as soon as possible. Leave now.”

“Right. I’m on my way.”

Jerry Trane, née Tranetti, was over six feet and built like the proverbial brick outhouse, a hood and killer without a conscience. Assassination to him was a way of life. His victims? He couldn’t care less. Man, woman, hood, legit citizen.

Colletti brought Trane into the library and closed the twin doors. He pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Jerry, and listen good.”

“You have my fullest attention, Dom. Go ahead.”

“That dumb bastard Allegretti got mixed up with a dame named Ann Waterman. From what I learned about her, she’s a drunk and a tramp any jerk can get for a couple of drinks and a meal. She delivered some of the hot stones to me. Right then I should have sent her back to Allegretti. But, you know what? She comes on like Princess Grace. All class.

“You can’t get to her in the hospital because there’s a guard around the clock, and everyone who wants to get into her room is gone over with a fine-tooth comb.”

“I could manage it,” Trane said. “I knock off the fuzz on the door, walk in and hit this broad and it’s all over.”

“Too risky. I want it done smoothly. She has an apartment at the Royal Admiral Hotel. They also rent to transients. There’s a directory on a wall in a corridor. You’ll find it. She’s listed. I want you to get one of your better girl-friends, I mean one that looks as respectable.

“Move in with a couple of suitcases. When you find out this Waterman dame’s apartment, wait until she’s released from the hospital. I’ll know. I’ve got a contact there. Splash a quart or two of vodka or scotch over this dame and kill her.

“If she’s on an upper floor, throw her over the patio rail. Here’s a brochure of the place. The address is right there. After you’ve checked in, get rid of your broad. Pay her off and tell her to take a cruise for a couple of weeks. I’m relying on your judgment, Jerry. Don’t foul this up.”

“You can depend on me, Dom. I got the picture.” Colletti handed Trane ah envelope. “There’s ten grand in there. Do it right and I’ll add another five big ones.”

“Thanks, Dom. Now, I’d like to ask one question. Why do I have to check into the place at all? Why not just walk in and do the job?”

“Because you wouldn’t get past the doorman. They’ve got orders to screen everyone closely, just like in the hospital. Just do it the way I outlined it. Okay?”

“Okay, Dom, just like you say.”

Trane contacted a beautiful blonde he had met at a cocktail party. He told her what he wanted. She was dubious about the whole plan.

He tried another gal he met at a convention. The ice that came over the phone froze him cold.

He got action on his third call. She was an extremely attractive executive bank employee named Diane Wallace. He prided himself on being seen only with beautiful women.

Diane Wallace was puzzled. “You just want me to act as if we were married? No more?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing — except I’ll buy you the finest seafood dinner in the most exclusive restaurant in town.”

“Okay. When does this charade come off?”

“What time do you leave your office?”

“Five o’clock.”

“That’s it. I’ll pick you up there.”

“Well, it all sounds very mysterious. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“You are. No problems.”

Shayne picked Ann Waterman up at the hospital the next day. He drove her to her apartment. She was nervous as a cat.

Every car that came abreast of Shayne’s threw her into a tizzy. Ann would duck down into her seat and moan. “That’s it!” she screamed once. When a black sedan with two ominous-looking men in the front seat blew a tire just as the car was at Shayne’s rear bumper Ann Waterman fainted.

Shayne revived her with a slug of brandy he kept in the glove compartment. He let the liquor flow from the bottle into Ann’s throat until she gagged and began to choke. He explained what the sound was. She was unconvinced and thoroughly terrified.

Shayne got Ann to her apartment safely. She was a very frightened woman. He asked her if she had any sleeping pills.

“Oh, no. No sleeping pills. I want to stay awake. You aren’t going to leave me, are you?”

“You’ll be okay. I’ll summon a police officer to stand guard at the door.”

Shayne assured her everything would be all right, and left as she began to weep like a frightened child. She lay down on the couch and huddled into the foetal position.

Jerry Trane jimmied the balcony door off Ann Waterman’s apartment and stepped inside. He moved to where she lay on the couch. She had dozed off. She awoke quickly, subconsciously sensing danger. She looked up at Trane and let out a wild scream. She began to scream for help.

Trane slapped her viciously across the face, drawing blood from her mouth and nose. Ann screamed louder. Trane hit, her with a vicious blow to the stomach and she folded up and dropped to the floor. The woman in the next apartment heard the screaming and called down to the doorman.

“There’s some terrible screaming going on in the next apartment. Sounds like the woman is being killed.”

XI

Shayne was still in the lobby, talking with the doorman, when the message came. “Someone’s in her apartment now!” the doorman cried. “She’s screaming!”

Shayne was in the elevator in seconds, and scant seconds later, on Ann Waterman’s floor. He raced to her apartment, crashed through the door, gun in hand. Jerry Trane, engrossed in his efforts to drop Ann over the patio rail, didn’t hear the redhead come in.

Mike Shayne moved quickly behind Trane, threw an armlock around the hit man’s neck and pulled him backward into the living room. Ann’s unconscious form fell to the floor.

Trane yanked a gun from the holster under his jacket. Shayne pointed his weapon down at Trane and pulled the trigger. The slug nearly tore Trane in two.

“You bastard!” Trane screamed.

Through the burst-open door Patterson, Wilson and two uniformed cops raced in.

Shayne said to Sergeant Patterson, “Call an ambulance. Our boy took a slug in the belly.”

The redhead knelt and picked Ann from the carpet. Blood was still flowing from her nose and, mouth. He put her down gently on the couch, got a towel from the bathroom and washed the blood from her face. Shayne then went to the phone and called a medico friend, Dr. Sterling.

“Very important, Doc. A friend of mine, a woman, seriously hurt, shock. She’s been beaten.” He gave Dr. Sterling the address.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, Mike. See if there’s any whisky in the apartment. Give her some and keep her warm till I get there.”

“How the hell did you foul up like this, Shayne?” Patterson asked. “I warned you it would happen. This mug is Jerry Trane, a real mean character. We knew he was in town but didn’t know where.”

“After he’s patched up I’d like to talk to him.”

“Okay by me, Shayne, but now you’ll have to clear it with the D.A. or one of his assistants. We’ve got him for aggravated assault and attempted murder.”

“That’s fine,” Shayne said, “but we’re after bigger fish, and this could be our bait. Let’s see.”

Doctor Sterling came and attended to Ann, gave her a tranquilizer and put her to bed. “She’ll sleep until morning,” the doctor told Shayne. “Is there someone who can stay with her?”

“Yes, Doc. I’ll stay with her.” Shayne said.

Ann awoke about seven the next morning. The October sun was struggling to rise above the rim of the Atlantic. Veils of shimmering heat forecast a hot day. Below, as Shayne looked from the patio, he saw several tenants spreading towels over chaises and chairs to establish ownerships for that morning. Squatters’ rights. It was a daily ritual.

Ann said, “Good morning, Mike. Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure would. How do you feel?”

“As if I’d been put through an emotional wringer and all my juices squeezed out of me. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

“Sure you will,” Shayne assured her. “Like all nightmares, this one too will fade in time.”

“Perhaps. But I’m sick of this place, the area, the people. I’m going back to New York.”

Ann brought two cups of coffee, which they drank on the patio. She looked out across the water and said, “I’ll be glad to get away from here, and yet I’ll miss it. I love the ocean and the sun. Is that paradoxical?”

“Not really. There are two different yearnings there. It’s not hard to understand.”

She pointed to two young girls, swimming in the ocean, the glint of the sun bobbing on their blond hair like blinking stars.

“They’re happy,” Ann said. “Sun and salt water and sea air, and no memories of near-catastrophes to mar their thoughts. I wonder if I’ll ever be happy again?”

Shayne didn’t reply. She was ruminating, looking back on the last twenty-four hours and equating them with her future.

At nine o’clock, Sergeant Patterson and Detective Wilson came to the apartment. They greeted Ann and inquired how she felt.

“I’ll be all right, I guess, so long as the army and navy here — she pointed to Shayne — stick around to protect me.”

“We’ve taken care of that little matter. There will be detectives in the lobby and outside your door, twenty-four hours a day.”

“Thank you,” Ann Waterman said. “That’s a relief.”

“Mike,” Patterson said, “a woman who gave her name as Diane Wallace called this morning, said she was induced to check into the hotel here with Jerry Trane. She heard the news about his being shot, and, of course, that he was a notorious hood. She volunteered the information that Trane lived at the Diplomat Towers. I thought you might want to check there for calls or contacts Trane may have made.”

“I certainly do,” Shayne replied. Then, “What’s with Trane?”

“He’ll live, dammit!” Patterson said. “He’s in intensive care but can be interviewed. He’s your baby. I explained things to the D.A. He said it was okay. Grab the big fish and we’ll throw the bait back.”

“Good enough, Pat. Who’s going to be on duty downstairs and up here? Until I get back?”

“A couple of good men. They’ll be here at ten. We’ll stay until they come.”

Ann Waterman said, “I’m a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”

“On the contrary,” Patterson said. “You broke the case wide open. We just may solve the whole business.”

“I suppose I should feel some satisfaction that it all wasn’t for nothing.”

“That’s right,” Shayne said. “You should. We owe you a lot.”

“At the Diplomat, Shayne asked Mary Lou, the manager’s secretary, if Al Wexler was in.”

“Yes, he’s in, Mike. Just a moment. I’ll get him.”

Wexler came out. He was a tall, prepossessing young man in his early thirties. He was delighted to see Shayne again, was in awe of the big redhead who had solved so many sensational cases.

“What can I do for you, Mike?”

“It’s about Jerry Trane, one of your tenants. I’d like to know if he made any calls yesterday or received any?”

“I’ll check with the operator.” Wexler returned a few moments later and handed Shayne a note. “This message came in yesterday. The operator keeps copies of all incoming calls with messages. Mean a thing to you?”

Shayne studied the message. “Sure does. Thanks, Al.” To Mary Lou he said, “How’s your love life, sweetheart? I mean lately?”

“Read it in my memoirs.” She gave him a provocative look. “I still hope you’ll be turning up in them.”

“Okay,” Shayne flipped back. “I’ll see to it that you get a real sizzling chapter. Tomorrow for dinner?”

“The last time you talked of sizzling chapters in my love-life the fire went out on the first line.”

“I asked for a raincheck.”

“I know, and I said you had a season pass. So what happened? Nothing!”

“Don’t give up on me,” Shayne urged. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Mike Shayne drove directly to Colletti’s home. His was admitted by Colletti himself and was led into the library. They took chairs opposite each other.

“I heard it on the news this morning, Shayne. Okay, if there’s a price, name it.”

“I told you yesterday, Dom. I want all the diamonds, and a few names. That’s the only way we can deal.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Shayne.”

“On the contrary. The D.A. would like to put you away for about twenty years and break up the mob you control. There’s a fat dossier on you, gambling, prostitution, narcotics, extortion, and very likely some unsolved murders. I’d say you’re getting the biggest break of your life, and you’ll save that lovely daughter of yours a lot of grief and heartache.

“For your information, Ann Waterman is willing to testify that she delivered the packets of diamonds to you and that you gave her money to deliver to Allegretti, which she did. Allegretti gave her some of the diamonds. A federal D.A. has those, and some we found in Allegretto’s car which match them. Loot from the heist.

“Furthermore, my information is that Trane is willing to testify, too. Patterson said he has Trane cold. I have a copy of the call you made yesterday to Trane and one of his call back to you. That’s pretty strong evidence, and we’re going to confront Trane with it. Okay?”

Colletti’s face was pale. His lips twitched. He realized his entire house of cards was falling down. The law of the jungle, self-preservation, filtered through Colletti’s mind. Above it all, however, was the thought of Angelina. She was the pawn and the prize.

He said, “What assurance have I that I won’t be exposed by the news media?”

“Secret appearances before the Grand Jury, and statements to the D.A. No one will ever know. You have my word.”

Colletti sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to break up my organization. That will take time — you understand, Shayne?”

Shayne nodded. “But quickly. That will be part of the deal. And, Marshal Walsh, Lieutenant Elfmont and Sergeant Patterson want Inspector Kreuger. He’s been on the take and they want him out of business.”

Colletti nodded. “I understand. Come back tomorrow morning and we’ll finish up.”

“I’ll want some names.”

Colletti let out a heavy sigh. “Well, if I go that far, I may as well go all the way. At ten tomorrow morning?”

“That will be fine.” Shayne got up and Colletti led him to the door.