Million Dollar Handle

Chapter 16

The call came at two the next afternoon.

After leaving Zell, Shayne bought food at an all-night supermarket and returned to Surfside. He called the Cuban detective, who reported that Sanchez had dropped his two companions and had then gone back to his own apartment. He called Mrs. Geary’s name as he went in, but she had left. He tried to phone her, but either she wasn’t home or she wasn’t answering the phone.

Shayne told him to knock off and be back on the job at eight in the morning. Dave, working faster and with more confidence, had tied in three more cameras. Shayne worked with him, and they finished the installations a little after daybreak. Dave promised to return by midafternoon.

They had carried several cans of paint, a ladder and drop cloths to the VIP lounge. Shayne painted the outside of the door and left the ladder in the corridor blocking the entrance, with a sign: “Fresh Paint.”

He holed up in the lounge. He slept for a few hours, letting his wristwatch alarm awaken him for the news. He used an electric razor in the bathroom, ate a cold breakfast and went back to the phone, taking quick reports from Rourke, Wanamaker and the Cuban. He gave Rourke his Centrex number, and after that left the phone open for incoming calls.

It was a long morning.

Rourke called from the paper. Someone had just called, and said that Frieda Field had told him this was the way to contact Shayne. What did Shayne think, should he give him the Surfside number?

“Of course not,” Shayne snapped. “When he calls back, find out where I can call him. Then get the hell out of the office and stay out. Tell them you’re sick, and make it convincing, Tim, because I don’t want anybody to be able to reach you. Don’t go to any of your usual bars. Pick one you’ve never been in before. Call me here every half hour.”

“It sounds very gripping. Can you spare a minute to tell me what’s going on?”

“They’ve got Frieda.”

“Frieda!” Rourke exploded. “Who has, Castle?”

“So I’m told. I probably shouldn’t have sent her to Nassau, but I didn’t think it was that risky.”

“This was a local call. Does that mean he’s in Miami?”

“We’ll know in a minute.”

“Shit. That’s lousy. How are you going to handle it?”

“I can’t let them set the conditions. They have to come to me.”

“But Mike, you can’t just let-”

“She’ll be all right,” Shayne interrupted. “That’s the way I’m betting. Unless they keep her in good health she’s no use as bait.”

“The way you’re betting!” Rourke said incredulously. “What if you lose?”

“If I lose,” Shayne said, speaking slowly and distinctly, “I’ll take a couple of weeks off and feel very bad.”

“Mike, I remember a time when you would have put a gun in each pocket-”

“Maybe I’m getting realistic. This guy has unlimited funds and good Miami connections. If he sets something up and invites me to come get her, what are the odds that I’ll walk out alive? And what good would that do anybody? Tim, I’ve been stuck here half the night and all morning. The TV picture’s on without the sound, so nobody’ll wonder who’s using the room. Nothing to do but think about this. And there is absolutely no other way. To make it anywhere near even, I have to do the arranging. Now I’m going to hang up so we can move it along.”

“Realistic, sure! I see that. In the old days, you didn’t stop to think about the odds. You did it. You got some sensational results that way.”

Shayne clicked off.

Ten minutes later Rourke called back and gave him a local number, hanging up without saying anything more. Shayne took a quick turn around the room. Below, the sprinklers were out, watering the track. He dried the palms of his hands, sat down at the phone, and dialed.

“Shayne,” a man’s voice said flatly.

It was slightly guttural, but otherwise neutral. He waited, and so did Shayne, as though they were groping toward each other in a dark room.

The voice spoke again. “We want to talk to you.”

“Who’s we?”

“I’m going to play you a tape. This is a voice you’ll recognize.”

After a click and a soft whir, Frieda said clearly and cheerfully, “Mike, I wrote this out first, and they studied it and talked about it, to be sure I wasn’t sending you any hidden messages. I made a mistake in Nassau. There’s nothing I can do about it now. They’re going to give you some instructions, and they want me to tell you that if you don’t do exactly as they say, they intend to kill me, and I believe they mean it. I’ve told them I’m sure you’ll do the intelligent thing.”

“Do you want that played again?” the voice said when she finished.

“I get the idea. Now the instructions.”

“At four o’clock exactly, be on the West Flagler extension, on the other side of Eight Twenty-six. Drive two miles and leave your car. Come in on the Fontainbleau Golf Course. Somebody will meet you on the seventh tee. Don’t bring anybody with you. No helicopters, no police cordons. We have two-way radio communication, and if there’s any hitch at all, the girl will be dead. Bang, bang. Dead. Don’t be carrying a gun. Wear a tight shirt and tight pants. Any questions?”

“Is that you talking in person, Tony?”

A pause, then: “I’m only taking questions about where and when.”

“I hope you won’t stick to that,” Shayne said easily. “You’re making a big assumption here. Frieda’s a good friend, and I’d hate to have anything happen to her. But I’d hate to have anything happen to me, too, if you see what I mean. That’s what she meant when she said she knew I’d do the intelligent thing.”

“Only a good friend,” Castle said. “Don’t give me that. I’ve had you scouted.”

Shayne grimaced. “I didn’t say I wasn’t coming, but you have to talk me into it. I heard Frieda’s voice, but you could have taped it in Nassau. Is she here?”

“Meet me and we’ll discuss it.”

“Too one-sided, Tony. I see how you figure. If she’s important to me, I’ll drop everything and come. I’ve been having this same argument with a friend of mine. Be reasonable. If I don’t come, you’ll kill her. What happens if I do come? You’ll kill her.”

“She isn’t that important.”

“Of course she is, Tony. She knows your name and where you do business. If we’re going to trade, that’s one thing. I have something you want, you have something I want. Let’s work it out.”

The connection was broken. His face grim, Shayne dialed the number again. It rang a dozen times before it was picked up.

He continued as though there had been no interruption. “From your point of view a golf course is a good place for a meeting. From my point of view it’s terrible. To get any protection I’d need a couple of National Guard companies. This isn’t an ordinary kidnapping situation, I leave fifty thousand in a phone booth and you put Frieda in a taxi. I can’t forget that less than forty-eight hours ago, some people of yours were shooting at me. Incidentally, I’m sorry about sending you that ear. That was childish of me, and I know you won’t forget it unless I can make this deal very attractive.”

“What do you have to deal with, Shayne?”

“I know how Max worked the scam.”

“Yeah?”

“We can do a division that will make sense for both of us. If it goes on this way, it’s going to get out of hand and there won’t be anything for anybody. One more thing. It isn’t in your interest for Harry Zell to go under. Unless we can close down this publicity, that’s inevitable. These are big areas, and I’m glad you’ve decided to talk. But before I agree to a meeting place, I want you to fix something so I can be sure Frieda won’t get hurt. I won’t make any suggestions. You don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you for that. I’ll leave the details up to you.”

That was a long speech, and he wasn’t even sure Castle was still on the line. The silence continued for another moment.

“Let me think about it,” Castle said finally, and Shayne relaxed.

“And four o’clock is too soon,” he said. “I’m calling from Tallahassee. If there’s no commercial flight I’ll charter a plane. When you get a plan worked out, call Tim Rourke. I’ll check with him as soon as I get in.”

“I think I’m beginning to like your attitude.”

“That’s good, because this time you seem to be holding the high cards. I want to keep you friendly.”

“Friends,” Castle said skeptically. “But I do business with plenty of people I don’t like. I hold the high cards, right, and my price is going to be high, so be ready for it. If I have to throw Zell to the alligators, there are compensations. I won’t lose a hundred cents on the dollar, by any means. Make it as soon as you can.”

Shayne hung up, and went back over the conversation again. He was gambling more than money this time, and partial success wouldn’t be enough-he had to win all the way.

He dialed the PR office on the ground floor. A secretary answered and he asked for Miss Geary.

“Shayne!” Linda cried. “What the hell kind of private detective are you? You’re supposed to report in.”

“I don’t follow you,” Shayne said in a puzzled tone. “I didn’t think I was working for you anymore. Your mother changed her mind and decided to sell.”

“She’s changed back! Or has she? Frankly, I’m not too sure. Apparently she thinks the papers she signed don’t mean anything. Shayne, can you help me resolve this?”

“Possibly, Linda. I’ve been as confused as you by all the about-faces, but I’ve learned a couple of things, which I’m afraid will have to be made public.”

“Such as?”

“That Ricardo Sanchez influenced the outcome of two races last night by medicating the dogs, and he took home eighty-five hundred.”

“Whee.”

“I’m thinking about calling a press conference, and I’d like to have it at Surfside. That’s your department. Don’t clear it with anybody-just announce it. Will you do that?”

“This is the night of the International.”

“I know. Get it on the six o’clock news and you’ll build up the crowd.”

“Are you under the impression I’m trying to do a good PR job here? I’m interested in one thing, closing the place down.”

“This may do it.”

“Then I’ll be glad to make the necessary calls, lover. Burn, Surfside, burn. Where do you want it, the VIP lounge? No, some idiot decided this was a good day to paint.”

“I’d like to make it a production. Is there any reason I can’t use the theater?”

“None at all. Then if you want to replay those races, that can be arranged.”

“You’re getting the right spirit. Have you seen Zell?”

“He’s in shock. I don’t understand it. Usually in a crisis he twitches around giving off static, but he’s strangely calm. What will be, will be, kind of thing.”

“He’ll want to be here.”

“I’m sure of that.”

Three more calls, and Shayne’s preparations would be complete. Soupy Simpson, Painter’s informer, was relieved to hear from him.

“I thought I’d lost you, Mike. And lost that thousand bucks, which I badly need. You didn’t play golf today, I hope?”

“Who told you about the golf course?”

“My guy. The one I was telling you about. They call him Ha-Ha. A moron, but he claims he’s hit people.”

“Who else is in it?”

“One pro from up North, who happened to be here on vacation, and one local. I know what he looks like, but that’s all. I guess he’s good. He came recommended.”

“I’m changing our arrangements, Soupy. I’ll give you that thousand at midnight tonight. Of course to do that I have to be in a condition to count money. Come up to Surfside an hour before post time. Buy a grandstand admission, and wait near the ten-dollar windows in the main hall.”

The next time Rourke checked in, Shayne told him to keep his head down until after the six o’clock news, then to come to Surfside, pick up Soupy Simpson at the betting windows, and bring him upstairs to the VIP lounge.

“Simpson, Mike? I hope you don’t think you can trust him?”

“I’ve got him sewed up, I think, unless they hear about it and outbid me. Be careful with him. People are going to be watching for me to show up, and I don’t want them to know I’m already here.”

“Anything more on Frieda?”

“I bought some time. Hell, he runs a casino. He won’t do anything on impulse. He’ll make the percentage move.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

With difficulty, Shayne restrained himself from slamming the phone down. “It’s going to be a tough couple of hours. You can help by keeping your ideas to yourself.”

When six o’clock arrived, Shayne watched the local news with the sound down to a whisper. His press conference announcement was the night’s top story. Without waiting for the remainder of the news, he called Painter. The little chief of detectives was sputtering.

“Press conference! I’m the one who should be calling the press conferences.”

“Not a bad idea,” Shayne said. “We can do it together. You keep telling me I ought to cooperate more. It’s finally beginning to dawn on me that maybe you’ve got something.”

“Over your depth this time, are you?” Painter said with satisfaction. “I knew the day would come. But cooperation is a two-way street. Give me a little preview.”

“You deserve that, Petey. I have a tape for you. It’s a conversation between Mrs. Charlotte Geary and a Cuban who works in the Surfside kennel. They discuss the fixing of dog races, and the death of Max Geary. Apparently the second car in the accident belonged to the Cuban. He and Mrs. Geary have been having a clandestine affair.”

“Now you’re giving me news I like to hear.”

“But I want to remind you that no defense lawyer would let this tape be played to a jury. A deposition is mentioned. The person who made it is dead, and the deposition has disappeared. But don’t be discouraged. I’m trying to get some corroboration. I think I can do it if you keep to a timetable I’m going to give you.”

“Cracking the whip, as usual. How you love it.”

“I have to use the whip on you, Petey. It’s the only way I can get you to move. The timing on this is important. You recognize my car. It’ll be parked in Max Geary’s slot in the executive parking strip outside the Surfside clubhouse entrance at eight-fifteen. Don’t look for it before then because it won’t be there. I’ll have somebody in the front seat to play the tape for you. There’s enough there to justify an arrest, but let them run the International Classic first. That will be over at eight-forty. Don’t wait longer than that, or our guy may run. He’ll be working in the lockup kennel. He may have somebody with him, or maybe not, but the thing to do is bust everybody you find in the kennel. Then tell the security man not to admit anybody else, including the racing secretary, the owner or any of the state officials. He’s probably an off-duty detective-most of them are-but if there’s any doubt about it, leave your own man there. I want to emphasize this. I don’t want anybody in that kennel to interfere with the dogs or destroy evidence. This is important.”

“Give me credit for some sense,” Painter said irritably. “This is going to interrupt the racing. The customers won’t like that.”

“I’ll try to think of a way to keep them entertained. I’m hoping the first arrest will start things unraveling. We have to play it by ear.”

“You want me to commit myself publicly, in front of ten thousand people, most of them voters, and after that you’ll play it by ear? Not good enough, Shayne. You want me to go in there blindfolded, while you control the spotlight. The rationale of a press conference is that you make an opening statement and open yourself up to questions. What is this statement going to contain? After you tell me that-right now-I may have some questions for you myself.”

“The press conference is a bluff, Petey. I didn’t expect you to be smart enough to spot it so soon. I don’t have anything yet except that taped conversation. But the guy I’m after doesn’t know that. I’m hoping to force him to make a move.”

“The guy you’re after. Are you going to break down and give me his name?”

“Didn’t I already tell you? Tony Castle. He shouldn’t be here in Miami, but he is. Bring as many men as you like. We can use them.”

Painter still wanted to be told more. Shayne explained, patiently, that there was little else he could tell him now. If at any time Painter thought he was being double-shuffled, he could call his men together and leave, and see it replayed on TV the following morning. With the inevitable misunderstandings and repetitions, all this took twenty minutes, but Shayne didn’t rush it, knowing that after he hung up there would be nothing to do but wait.