Murder Takes No Holiday

6

Michael Shayne, cigarette dangling from his lips, switched out the light after Alvarez left the office. Going to the window, he adjusted the slats of the blind and raised it all the way. The window was already up as far as it would go. Kneeling and keeping close to the window frame, he looked out cautiously.

He would have only a three-foot drop to a cobblestoned alley. A cat was prowling along it, a big yellow tom. Seeing Shayne, the animal froze and gave him a look of intense suspicion-possibly wondering, Shayne thought wryly, if the American was actually wanted for armed robbery by the Florida police.

He heard an automobile motor. It idled a moment, then stalled. That was the signal. When it took hold again, Shayne swung one of his long legs over the sill. At his first move, the cat whirled about and disappeared. The redhead let himself down to his full length and dropped to the cobblestones as a small British car with Alvarez at the wheel turned the corner. The motor and transmission seemed very loud to Shayne in the narrow alley. As the car braked, the door swung open. Shayne backed in.

Alvarez snapped, “Get down. They may have another man in back.”

“What do you mean, get down?” Shayne growled. “I’m down as far as I can go.”

But by putting his head between his shoulders and twisting sideward, he managed to slide a little farther. Alvarez accelerated rapidly. The tires squealed as he turned the corner.

“Not yet!” he said, as Shayne started to raise his head.

After a few more blocks he gave Shayne permission to get up on the seat. They were leaving the narrow, twisting streets of the Old Town, Shayne saw, heading inland. The Camel’s eyes darted busily back and forth between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. Presently he swung to the right and pulled up beside another of the little cars which, with the exception of bicycles and carriages, were the only means of transport on the island.

He gave Shayne a key. “For the ignition. Do not follow me too closely. When I pull into a garage, stop fifty feet behind, but keep the motor running. I will leave the car and start walking. Come up to me and I will get in.”

“What if a cop sees me? I’d better carry the gun.”

Alvarez mopped his forehead with his silk handkerchief. “The shooting of a policeman-that is all we need. No, if you are seen and they give chase, our arrangements are off. Go where you please from then on. But I do not think that will happen. We have few policemen, and they are busy elsewhere.”

“O.K.,” Shayne said, his voice resigned. “Where’s the starter on these bugs?”

Alvarez showed him. The redhead transferred to the other car. Alvarez waited till he found the necessary pulls and switches, and had the lights on and the motor turning over. When Alvarez pulled away, Shayne put the Hillman in gear and followed, watching for sign-posts and trying to memorize the route in case he had to follow it again. He had to resist an impulse to drift over to the righthand side of the road, where he felt he belonged. They left the settled part of the town. Well out in the country, the tail-lights ahead turned abruptly onto a dirt road. Shayne followed. Coming to a hard-surface road again after a little more than four kilometers, they soon were in a suburb of little detached villas, each with its own brick wall and garden. Since leaving the nightclub, they had met only two cars. Shayne shielded his face, as though dazzled by the headlights.

The red brake lights flashed on the Camel’s car. The directional arrow was blinking for a right turn. This seemed to be the place. When Alvarez came to a full stop, Shayne swung over against the curb. He was on a slight downward slope; he set the emergency and shifted into neutral. There was only an occasional streetlight in this part of town, but Alvarez had left his headlights on full, and Shayne saw him get out of the Hillman and hurry to unlock the door of a one-car garage, set back from the street just far enough so the doors would be flush with the sidewalk when they were open. Alvarez opened first one, then the other, ran back to his car and drove into the garage. He cut the motor and the lights.

Shayne glanced at his watch; it was 11:20.

In the stillness, the panting of the Hillman’s motor seemed very loud. Shayne saw only one or two lighted windows in nearby villas-this was clearly a neighborhood where people went to bed early. He started a cigarette and hunched over the wheel, one hand on the gearshift lever, watching the open doors of the garage.

For a man in a hurry, Alvarez was taking his time. The garage doors remained open. No light or sound of movement came from within. It occurred to Shayne that he hadn’t heard the car door slam. He drew deeply on his cigarette. He let another minute pass. The conviction was growing inside him that something had happened, something not on the schedule.

He turned off his motor. The night was full of small noises; none of them interested Shayne. He took off the emergency and coasted silently down to the garage, leaving his lights on high-beam. He leaned across to the open window on the inner side and called in a low voice, “Alvarez.”

There was no answer. The night noises continued around him.

Getting out of the car, Shayne warily approached the garage. In the side-glow from his headlights, he could see that the front door of the other car gaped open. The hood was up. There was a small window in the back wall of the garage. When he saw that that, too, was open, Shayne knew what he would find even before he stumbled over the body.

Alvarez, in his neat blue business suit, lay face down on the front seat. Shayne flipped away his cigarette and squatted beside him. A monkey wrench, partially wrapped in an oily rag, lay nearby. All the lines on Shayne’s face were deeply etched. When Alvarez drove the car into the garage, someone had been standing in the corner where he would not be seen in the headlights. Alvarez had turned off the lights and started to get out of the car; his assailant had stepped forward and hit him with the monkey wrench from behind.

That much was clear. Straightening, the redhead dusted his fingers lightly and went to the open window. There was a gravel path outside. Again he listened carefully, but heard nothing.

The interior of the luggage space was in deep shadow, but he knew without checking that whatever Alvarez had brought was no longer there. The key was still in the lock. He left it and went back to the Camel’s body.

Stooping, he took Alvarez under the arms and dragged him out from the car so he could close the door. After he had done that, he rolled the unconscious man on his back, supporting him under the shoulders. He was breathing harshly. Shayne felt for a pulse. It was irregular and very fast.

Suddenly Alvarez sat up with a shout, seizing Shayne’s lapels, his eyes staring. He screamed something in Spanish and struck out wildly. His doubled-up fist caught Shayne on the mouth. It was more of a push than a blow, but the American was sitting back on his heels and it knocked him off balance. He fell backward on his hands. Alvarez, released, rolled on one elbow, and when Shayne looked at him again, he saw that the Venezuelan had snatched out his gun.

“Cut it out, for God’s sake,” Shayne growled.

“Where is the-”

Shayne interrupted roughly. “Use your head. You were slugged getting out of the car. I wasn’t anywhere near you. Somebody was waiting when you drove in.”

Alvarez looked at him stupidly, and Shayne said, his voice heavy with anger, “Put it away. If I slugged you, would I still be here?”

Alvarez touched the back of his head, wincing. Then he twisted suddenly and saw the raised hood. “Look in the luggage space. See if-”

“It’s gone,” Shayne said. “The window’s open back there. If you don’t know what happened by now, that crack on the head must have scrambled your brains. You’ve been robbed, and not by me.”

Alvarez thought for a moment. “I must telephone.”

“It also might be a smart move to get the hell out of here,” Shayne said.

Going to the front of the Hillman, he slammed the hood and took out the keys. As he came back, Alvarez made an effort to rise, but slumped back on his elbows.

“If you’re going anywhere, walk,” Shayne said coldly. “Don’t expect me to carry you.”

Alvarez tried again, and succeeded in getting to one knee. Shayne made a disgusted sound, put an arm around his waist and helped him out to the other car. After putting him in, the redhead went around and got behind the wheel.

“You want to make a phone call. That’s o.k. with me. But I hope you remember that you and I still have a deal on the fire. Don’t let it slip your mind.”

“I’m not forgetting,” Alvarez said weakly.

He groaned and his head fell forward in his hands. Shayne started the motor, but hesitated a moment, thinking, before putting the little car in gear. When Alvarez made his phone call, Shayne wanted to be where he could hear it.

He headed downhill in what he hoped was the right direction. When he recognized Bay View Road, he made the turn. Alvarez raised his head.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got a cottage out here,” Shayne said, putting the gas pedal on the floor. “Be there in two minutes. You need a shot of something to get the buzzing out of your ears.”

“Have you lost your mind? We will find a policeman waiting for us.”

“I don’t think so,” Shayne said. “It’s too late at night to start checking cottages and transient houses. They wouldn’t expect me to register under my own name. But I’ll look it over first.”

He remembered a little turnaround short of the Lodge, where sightseers could park overlooking the bay. He turned out his lights, pulled off and told Alvarez to wait. He slipped off silently into the darkness. In a minute or two he was back.

“No sign of anybody.”

He drove on to the driveway to the cottages without turning on his lights. Arriving in front of his own cottage a moment later, he shut off the motor, got out and went around to help Alvarez. The Camel had opened the door, and Shayne caught him before he fell. He half-carried the Venezuelan into the cottage, knocked over a chair on the way across the living room. He dumped his burden on the sofa and turned on a lamp.

Alvarez was goggling up at him, gasping. “This pain-do you have an aspirin?”

Shayne laughed. “You need more than an aspirin, amigo. You need a head X-ray and a few weeks in a nursing home.”

Shayne produced glasses and his bottle of cognac. After a quick search through his suitcase he found a tin of aspirin tablets. He gave this to Alvarez, who gulped down four, two at a time, and followed them with a stiff peg of cognac.

He shuddered as the cognac took hold. “That is better. Where is your phone?”

“In the bedroom, if you can make it,” Shayne said.

“I can make it.”

He came erect, and stood swaying for a moment, leaning on the back of a chair.

“Want some help?” Shayne asked, watching him narrowly.

Alvarez shook his head and reached the bedroom doorway in three lurching steps. There he rested again. Gathering his strength, he plunged forward and collapsed on the bed.

Shayne handed him the phone. He waited, breathing hard. After the sixth long breath he rattled for the operator.

Shayne took off his white coat, which was badly soiled where Alvarez had grabbed it, and changed back into the gray tropical worsted he had worn from Miami. Alvarez rattled the phone impatiently.

“What is the matter with this damned operator? Shayne, get me some ice. This pain is so bad I can’t think. And I must think. In a towel, a wash-cloth-anything.”

The redhead went to the little kitchenette. He opened the midget refrigerator and turned on the hot water faucet. Leaving the water running, he quietly returned to the living room so he could hear what his guest was saying. Alvarez was talking very rapidly in Spanish. It was too fast for Shayne. He listened for a moment. When Alvarez didn’t switch back to English, Shayne returned to the kitchenette.

The ice-tray was an ancient model. He had to wait till the water ran hot before it would warm up the tray enough to release the cubes. He wrapped half a dozen in a dish-towel and took them to the bedroom, where Alvarez seized them gratefully and pressed them to his temples.

“Yes, yes,” he said into the phone in English. “But yesterday! Yesterday. I want to know his exact words. Did he say he had not decided if he would do it? Or precisely what?”

Shayne returned to the living room and sat down to his cognac. His eyes were hard.

“And in the end?” Alvarez said. “How did you leave it? You persuaded him?”

He listened for some time.

“All right,” he said. “I understand that. Still you had a feeling that he would go ahead as planned? This is important. I must know exactly.”

There was another long pause. “And then today on the phone?”

There was a longer pause before he spoke again. “No, no. I am not criticizing you. He is not an easy person, and you do very well with him. When do you see him again?”

A moment after that Alvarez exclaimed, “If he comes back! What do you mean if he comes back? He can’t be leaving St. Albans! But when? How?”

He waited for an answer.

“At midnight! Why didn’t you tell me? Blessed Mary, that’s in five minutes. I cannot-Wait. Wait there a minute.”

Shayne’s muscles tightened.

In the bedroom Alvarez said slowly, “Call the airport. Have them get Slater for you. Insist on speaking to him, don’t allow them to put you off. Tell him he must come to you at once. You are hurt. No, no. That is not enough. God, this pain! His wife is not going with him?”

Shayne poured cognac while Alvarez listened to the answer.

“Good, good,” Alvarez said, beginning to sound more sure of himself. “If they have quarreled, she will not be at the airport to see him leave. What do you say, if the wicked Senor Alvarez has the innocent blonde-haired Martha Slater in his clutches, will Paul hasten to rescue her? Do not answer. Perhaps he will merely laugh loudly, but I must try it at least. You told me he feels great guilt about these meetings with you. Now he will feel more guilt because of the quarrel. Yes, I think with luck I can get my hands on Paul Slater, and he will be sorry he hit Luis Alvarez with a wrench… What? I don’t care if you believe it or not. If you had my headache you would know it happened. Ring off.”

Shayne heard him rattling for the operator. There was a sound of pages being flipped rapidly, and Alvarez gave the operator a number. Another moment passed, during which Shayne could hear the faint pulse of a ringing phone.

Then the Camel was saying urgently, “Hello, hello. Police headquarters here. Listen to me carefully. You have a chartered plane scheduled to take off for the U. S. at midnight. I don’t know the company, or the name of the pilot. There is a passenger aboard, an American, Paul Slater. S-l-a-t-e-r. I have to talk to him at once. At once! A life is at stake.”

There was an objection at the other end of the line, but Alvarez raised his voice and rode it down. “This is an emergency! Damn your rules and regulations. He must not be allowed to leave. Do you understand? Good.”

He drummed his fingers against the side of the bed, and called, “Shayne! Any more cognac?”

Shayne got up to show him the empty bottle. “Do you want some of mine?”

“No, no.” And into the phone: “He’s coming? All right, yes. I am holding on.”

He bent forward over the phone, his lips drawn back in a concentrated expression of viciousness. Shayne watched him for a moment. Feeling the redhead’s eyes on him, Alvarez looked up. Shayne went back to his drink.

“Well, Paul,” Alvarez said smoothly. “I am so sorry to interrupt your departure. At the very last moment, too… The police? No, indeed, this is your old friend and ex-business colleague. I say ex because after tonight I somehow think our business connection has come to an end. How does it happen that you neglected to let me know you were leaving?”

Shayne’s faculties were strained to the utmost. Alvarez said, “I would not take that tone with me, Paul. Of course it is some business of mine, what you do and do not do. I am distressed to hear that you must fly to your mother’s side. The sickness must be grave indeed, to make you leave without saying goodbye to your friends. Indeed, grief would appear to have unhinged your reason.” His voice hardened. “Did you really think you could get away with it?”

A moment’s silence followed.

“What, indeed?” Alvarez said savagely. “Of course you are anxious to be on your way. I understand your feelings. Why do you think I called you? To implore you to return what you have stolen from me? I am not so innocent. Or do you think I am holding you on the phone till my men have time to reach the airport? I thought of that, but they could never get there in time, and how could they force their way onto the field? I have made a better arrangement. Your wife is here with me.”

After listening to Slater’s response, he laughed unpleasantly. “Patience, patience. She is perfectly all right, although we had to hit her several times before she agreed to come with us. I would let you speak to her, but I fear she would urge you to complete your escape. Her morale seems excellent. She is quite defiant, as a matter of fact. I have a scratched face from her fingernails. I admire her for it, Paul. I assure you she will not be hurt unless you continue to do these foolish things. Come to me and we can talk things over sensibly and reach a sensible conclusion.”

He continued in a moment, “I see your position. There is a large sum of money involved, and you want to make your calculations. If you return to the plane, what horrible thing, after all, can happen?” His voice climbed shrilly. “You will not see her again, Slater! You have been quarrelling. This is a small island, news travels quickly. I know all about it. You have behaved foolishly with another woman. Perhaps it will not matter to you that your wife is dead. Perhaps you will be pleased. This is a chance I must take.”

He listened again. “I would not? You are wrong, dead wrong. If I promise you something and you pay no attention to me, I would have to do it, or no one would be impressed with me from that time on. Every petty thief in the islands would think he can rob Alvarez and have nothing to fear. I do not care to sound melodramatic, but this is what I will do. I will take her out in my boat. Sometime later, I will return alone, minus your lovely wife, minus my oyster knife, minus my anchor.”

He paused, and Shayne heard the faint note of relief in his voice when he spoke again. “I was sure you would look on it sensibly, Paul. We will be at the country place. You know the way. Get a taxi. Half an hour should do it easily. If you are delayed by a flat tire, or anything of that nature, be sure to phone me. I wouldn’t want anything to happen I would regret.”

He hung up. Shayne swallowed the last of the cognac and went over to the doorway. Alvarez still had his hand on the phone. He winked at Shayne, pleased with his own cleverness. Signalling the operator again, he gave her another number.

When the connection was open he said abruptly, “Who is this, Al?… I want three men and a car. In a hurry. Try Jose first. His brother, if you can get him. Offer six pounds apiece for the night, go to ten if you have to. Tell them to meet at the Half Moon. I will be waiting there in the Minx. Have you got that?”

Shayne could see the ugly outline of the. 45 in the Venezuelan’s right coat pocket. He waited until the bartender had repeated the instructions and hung up. Then he stepped around the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he took the Camel’s right wrist and yanked him forward.

“Don’t try to reach the gun,” Shayne told him gently, “or you’ll be in worse shape than you are now. I heard some of that. You’ve worked up quite a crowded schedule. And where do I fit in? You made a deal with me, and I’d like to see some action on it.”

“Things have changed. I-”

Shayne took a quick backward step, jerking Alvarez to his feet. Without putting pressure anywhere except on the wrist, Shayne walked him backward until he slammed against the wall. The man’s face, gray to begin with, had turned a disagreeable shade of off-white.

“You seem to have problems,” Shayne said. “So long as you don’t forget that I’m one of them. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re figuring on dumping me. I wouldn’t like that.”

“Talk about it!” Alvarez gasped.

“Sure. But let’s talk about it now. Let’s not wait till three or four guys show up.”

“If you will let go-”

Shayne looked into his eyes for a moment longer, his own hard and unfriendly, then threw the wrist away in disgust. Alvarez swayed, but made it to the foot of the bed before he fell. Shayne didn’t help him. Little by little his strength came back, and he pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing the wrist and looking at Shayne with hatred.

“You swine.”

“Never mind the compliments,” Shayne told him. “What’s on the program? I don’t want to be put off till everything else is out of the way. I think I heard you mention dropping somebody off a boat. That boat is going to be busy, because I’m going to be on it.”

“I said things have changed. The boat is out of the question. Thanks to your blundering, the boat’s captain is in jail.”

Shayne made a threatening gesture, and Alvarez said shrilly, “Do not hit me, Shayne!”

A moment passed, during which they did nothing but look at each other.

“I have had another idea, if you will control yourself,” Alvarez said. “Believe me, you are much on my mind. I am trying to keep six knives in the air at one time. This man I just talked to-he has a chartered plane waiting at the airport. He has been cleared for departure. We will persuade him to let you use his credentials. Give the pilot a hundred pounds additional, and he will put you down wherever you please in Florida.”

“How do you persuade the guy?” Shayne said doubtfully.

“That will not be difficult, I think,” Alvarez said. “When we straighten out another matter, he will no longer be in a hurry to leave. I do not concern myself about his feelings, in any case. I am in his debt for a bad knock on the head.”

Shayne pulled at his earlobe. “I don’t like it. What makes you think he’ll fall for that crap you were handing out on the phone.-Yeah, I heard it. What did you want me to do, put my fingers in my ears? You told him you had his wife.”

“I will have her,” Alvarez said calmly. “We will stop at her hotel and pick her up. It is on our way.”

“I don’t like that word we,” Shayne said. “I don’t give a damn how many people you kidnap, so long as you don’t take all night. But leave me out of it.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I will need your help. But do not excite yourself-it will be simple.”

Shayne snorted. “This other thing was supposed to be simple. Just drive a car in a garage. No trouble at all. And if you’d set it up so I was driving the car, I would have been skulled with a monkey wrench. Let’s talk some sense, goddamn it. Too many people know what I look like by now. Why stick my neck out when I don’t have to? When you get the guy’s papers, come back and pick me up. I’ll be here.”

Alvarez was shaking his head. “It cannot be done that way. We are wasting time, but I see I must explain. I caught Slater off-balance. I persuaded him to do what I said because he has a strong guilty feeling-the details are unimportant. His brain was frozen, but after some minutes it will unfreeze and he will wonder if I am merely bluffing, if the woman is actually with me. If this is true, the safest thing for him will be to return to the airport and leave by plane with the utmost speed. He will wish to make sure. He will phone me and insist on speaking to her. I must be able to let him hear her voice. Now do you understand?”

“It still has nothing to do with me,” Shayne said. “Send your boys out to meet him at the airport.”

“No. No. It is much too public, also much too chancy. I do not wish to call attention to myself at the moment, my position is delicate. If they missed connections, the plane would depart and you would still be here, Mr. Shayne, surrounded by police who have seen your picture.”

Shayne swore under his breath. Then he said grudgingly, “I guess you know more about it than I do. What am I supposed to do this time?”

“She lives in a second-rate beach hotel. It would be most unwise for us to break in and try to take her by force. We would arouse the hotel, the police would be summoned. It must be handled discreetly. She must walk out quietly, of her own will. She would not come with me, or with one of my men. But you are a fellow-American. We will invent a plausible story, and she will come like a lamb.”

Shayne continued to tug at his earlobe. Alvarez added, “The plane will be already paid for by Slater, and I will put you safely aboard without charging you a shilling.”

Making up his mind, Shayne shook a cigarette out of a pack. “All right, but don’t try to work any more switches.”

“I have promised.”

“And I hope you keep your promise,” Shayne said, “for your sake. What’s this doll like? What do I say to her?”

Shayne steadied Alvarez as he came off the bed and stood up. “We will think about it.”

The redhead left the other propped in the doorway and went back to lock his suitcase and turn off the lights. In the Hillman, heading back into St. Albans along the bay, Alvarez said, “The important thing, do not hurry. There is one way you could surely fetch her, to say that the husband’s plane has crashed and he is badly hurt. But no. She would rush out half-dressed, with much noise and excitement. Let us do it this way, I think.”

Glancing at him, Shayne saw that he was smiling slyly. “Tell her you are a private detective,” Alvarez said, “and you-”

“What?” Shayne exclaimed.

“I know how you must feel about the police and detectives, but this will be only for a moment. Tell her you have found out that the husband’s plane trip is only a pretext, he really goes to spend several days in seclusion with another girl. If she wishes proof, you can provide it. But she must be quiet and careful.”

“And what if she just tells me to pick up my feet and blow?”

“Convince her. You see, she can either come with you to get evidence for a divorce, or she can come to save her husband from a greedy woman.”

He made a little sound that was probably intended as a laugh. Shayne stared bleakly at the road ahead, making no further comment. Alvarez called the turns, and before long they drew up in front of a rundown hotel called the Half Moon, separated from the bay by a fringe of palms. Only a few of the windows on the front of the hotel were lighted.

“Turn the car around,” Alvarez said. “I will go in quietly and inspect. It will be better if no one sees you.”

“Damn right it’ll be better,” Shayne said.

When Alvarez got out, Shayne drove on to where the street dead-ended at a low embankment. With its short wheelbase, the Hillman was an easy car to turn. When he came back, Alvarez was coming down the hotel steps, and Shayne had a sudden impression that he was not as hurt as he pretended. His eyes narrowing, the redhead watched him falter and put his hand to his forehead, as though suddenly dizzy. He crossed the sidewalk to the Hillman and got in.

“This will be easy,” he said. “There is one man only, for the desk, the switchboard, the elevator. Look in the window. When he goes up in the elevator or must answer the phone, you will simply walk in to the stairs. Good luck.”

Shayne stayed where he was. “What if the phone doesn’t ring or if nobody wants the elevator?”

“My men will be here presently. I will send one to telephone. The room is on the fifth floor, five forty-two. From the stairs go to the first turning in the corridor.”

Shayne unlatched the door. “How much time do I have? You told the husband half an hour. If I get hung up somewhere, I don’t want you sitting down here counting the minutes until you send your army in after me.”

Alvarez said, “Take the time you need. I have a man to entertain Slater until we arrive, and I will tell him what to say if Slater calls. I agree that you must be quiet and careful.”

“And what do I do if I can get her to come with me? No, don’t tell me. I ring for the elevator. When it doesn’t show up right away, I get impatient and drag her down the stairs. That way the desk clerk won’t see me.”

“Excellent.”

Shayne left the Hillman and went up to the front steps. There was a broad porch overlooking the bay. Instead of entering the lobby he went along the porch, past a line of empty rocking chairs, until he came to a window through which he could look into the lobby. No one was behind the desk. Moving to the next window, Shayne saw the switchboard, but it was unattended. He located the elevator. The door was closed, and an arrow above was moving slowly around a semi-circle. There was a loud, ominous clanking.

He returned to the front door and entered the lobby. The arrow had stopped at four. Through an archway he looked into the dining room, with tables set for breakfast. He reached the bottom of the stairs as the clanking resumed and the elevator started down.

He took the steps two at a rime. The elevator, descending slowly and painfully, passed him between the second and the third floor. He continued to five, found Room 542 without trouble, and knocked.

The transom was open and light was on in the room. When there was no answer, Shayne knocked again.

“Mrs. Slater?” he said cautiously.

He heard a faint noise, and saw the doorknob beginning to turn slowly. Then the door came violently open. Martha Slater was standing in the doorway, a gun in her hand.