A Taste for Violence (12 page)

“Yes. I have a roadster, but it’s in the garage for repairs.”

“Finding Charles’ car there at that hour of the morning,” Shayne went on slowly, “must have been something of a shock to him. Enough, perhaps, to make him realize he might need an explanation for his presence there at that time. We’ve got to remember that he had already announced himself to Mrs. Cornell, so we can’t be sure Gerald
knew
that something had happened to Charles when he came to your house and woke you up. We can assume he had reason to suspect something was in the wind.”

Elsa Roche had stopped sobbing, and now her breathing was deep and exhaled with long sighs. She said, “I’m sure of it. He acted so worried. I was too sleepy to pay much attention then, but thinking back, I never saw Seth so excited and upset.”

“The question is, how
did
he come to go to Brand’s house at that time? His asking you to cover up for him proves that he can’t afford to have the real truth known.”

“I thought of that, too,” she murmured. “He says he was awakened by an anonymous telephone call, and that’s one of the reasons why he was worried when he found Charles’ car there. Whoever called him, he says, hinted that Charles and George had had a fight, but he didn’t want to worry me about that, not knowing which one was hurt, or if it was even true. And he realized that his story of an anonymous call would sound weak and suspicious if he couldn’t prove who had called him. That’s why he wanted me to lie about it.”

“It all adds up neatly,” Shayne conceded. “Let’s face it. The anonymous caller could have been the murderer who took that method of getting Gerald on the spot to throw suspicion on him. And Seth Gerald was smart enough to circumvent the plan by using you as a valid excuse for having gone there.”

Elsa Roche’s body stiffened. She raised her head from his arm and said fiercely, “You’re thinking it was George, aren’t you?”

Shayne sighed and let his arm drop to his side. “I’m not thinking very clearly right now. He would fit the bill if he had shot your husband. Getting Gerald involved in the crime would be his best bet.”

“That’s exactly what Seth and Jimmy say. In fact, Seth swears that if I don’t back up his story he’ll come right out and say he recognized George’s voice over the telephone.”

“I’ve been wondering,” said Shayne quietly, “why he didn’t think of that at once. It was the obvious thing.”

“It was because he knew it couldn’t have been George,” she said angrily, “and that he’d be proved a liar for saying so by the men who were playing poker with him. But now that all three of them have gone back on their alibis he could say it was George’s voice and no one could prove differently.”

“And use that point about Brand’s alibi to his own advantage,” Shayne filled in for her. “It would be psychologically correct for him to maintain that he didn’t recognize Brand’s voice at first because the three witnesses proved it couldn’t have been Brand. But now that they’ve repudiated their story, he is sure that’s who it was.”

Elsa Roche slumped again, as though exhausted. She took a pack of cigarettes from her purse, put one between her lips, and Shayne struck a match for her.

He asked, “Does anyone know you came to the jail to see me?”

“No. I pretended to go to bed and they all left before I began telephoning around trying to find you.”

“They will know about it,” Shayne warned her grimly, “if they don’t already.”

“But they couldn’t,” she said weakly.

Shayne cogitated for a moment, then said, “Gerald and Jimmy will
know
why you wanted to see me… that you’ve spilled all this to me. There’s no use our trying to deny it. We’ll have to play it this way,” he went on briskly. “I’ll take you home and go straight to Gerald to discuss what you’ve told me… as a loyal stooge for AMOK. I’ll tell him I’ve advised you to keep your mouth shut for the present, which I do, and that I’ve gotten your confidence by pretending I believe in Brand’s innocence and promising to help clear him… which I hope I have.”

She laid her hand on his and said quietly, “I have to believe in you. There’s no one else. If I can’t trust you, I’m sunk.”

“You’re not sunk,” he assured her. “But I want you to understand why it’s imperative that I seem to play ball with Gerald and AMOK. Without their backing I wouldn’t last another hour in this town, and you know it.”

“I know.” She shuddered, then cried out violently, “It’s all so horribly wrong. There’s no decency or honesty here. No one dares to speak up. The people here are either crushed into hopeless apathy or have grown smug and acceptive. I don’t know which is worse. I do know I can’t stand much more of Centerville.”

She started the motor, turned on the headlights and backed the car around to drive up the dirt road onto the highway. Shayne sank back and stretched his legs out, lit a cigarette and mulled over the things she had told him while she drove swiftly toward town.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Then she asked suddenly and breathlessly, “There’s something I forgot… When Charles wrote you that letter a few days ago, did he mention me?”

“Your husband’s letter is one of the things I have resolved to keep strictly to myself until this affair is ended.”

“But… I have a right to know. It makes so much difference. Don’t you see… Charles may have learned that I had been with George a couple of times… and it might have something to do with… his death.”

Shayne said, “I’m sorry, but I learned long ago that the only way to keep a secret is to keep it.”

“Why is this secret so important?”

“It may be damned important to your husband’s murderer. Don’t you see the spot it puts him in? He doesn’t know how much I know… whether he was named in the letter or not.”

“But… why does that apply to me,” she argued angrily. “What difference could it make if you told me?”

Shayne sighed deeply. “You’ve told me a story tonight, Mrs. Roche. Certain things disagree with the testimony of other people. All of it may be the truth, or part may be the truth, or it may not be the truth at all. I’d be a sorry investigator if I accepted the unsupported word of any person even remotely connected with murder.”

“That means you suspect me, doesn’t it,” she retorted.

“It means that I believe nothing that isn’t corroborated,” he corrected her patiently. “There wouldn’t be the least difficulty making out a circumstantial case against you, as far as that goes. Look at it impersonally. You admit having been out with George Brand on at least two occasions. Suppose your husband learned of this, objected violently, and started out to confront Brand and have a showdown. Plenty of murders have been committed for less reason.”

“But I told you all about George and me. I’ve told you why Charles went to see him.”

“That’s the trouble, Mrs. Roche. I have only your word for any of these things you’ve told me. Suppose Seth Gerald denies everything you’ve said. Which one of you shall I believe?”

“You can tell me this: Did any of those anonymous letters mention George Brand and me?” She was pleading with him now.

“What anonymous letters?” Shayne asked blandly.

“The ones he refused to show me. You practically said he sent those to you.”

“Did I?”

“Didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “That communication from your husband is my one ace-in-the-hole, and I’m not ready to show it yet. If you really want your husband’s murderer to pay for his crime you’ll have to let me play it my own way.”

She said, “Very well,” in a tone of weary resignation.

An automobile was approaching swiftly from Centerville, its headlights augmented by a powerful searchlight mounted above the windshield. It turned constantly to sweep each side of the highway. Its beams caught the Roche Buick at a distance of some five hundred yards.

“That light! It’s blinding me,” Elsa said.

“Stop the car,” Shayne ordered.

She put on the brakes just as the other car slowed to a stop beside them. Shayne said swiftly, “Don’t say a word except to follow my lead. No matter who it is or what they want.”

They sat quietly while a rear door of the other car slammed shut after a man had gotten out. He approached the left-hand side of the Buick and looked in at Elsa, past her to Shayne. He turned his head and called, “Yep. This is them, Chief.”

Another man got out and the other moved aside. Chief Henry Elwood said, “Evenin’, Mrs. Roche. Sort of late for a widow lady to be out with a stranger, isn’t it?”

“I’m an old friend of her husband’s,” Shayne told him quietly. “Mr. Persona will vouch for me.”

“You better come along with us,” the chief told him. “And you better drive on home, Mrs. Roche, ’less you take it in your head to pull some of the other prisoners out of my jail. I’ll send a man with you to see you find your way home all right.”

Shayne said, “Chief Elwood is right, Elsa. Try to get some sleep and I’ll call you in the morning.” He got out and went around the front of the Buick to the tonneau of the other car. There were two men in the front seat. The rear seat was empty. He got in and the chief followed him inside and slammed the door shut. The car started ahead slowly, continuing away from the village while Mrs. Roche drove on toward Centerville.

Shayne settled back in the darkness and lit a cigarette. The chief smashed the lighted cylinder against his face with a heavy, back-handed blow and said placidly, “You’re going to need your mouth for talkin’, Shamus.”

MICHAEL SHAYNE drew in his breath, gritted his teeth, and counted slowly up to twenty-five. Then he said, “I’ve been smoking too much lately, anyhow.”

“I’ve heard,” said the chief, “that you’re a smart cookie. We’ll get along all right if you remember this is my town.”

The blow had reopened the cut on his lip. He got out a handkerchief and dabbed the blood away gently. “Mr. Persona gave me the idea the town belonged to AMOK.”

“Persona,” grunted the chief, “can hire all the special deputies he wants, but I still run Centerville.”

“And Seth Gerald runs you?” Shayne said bitterly.

Shayne felt this blow coming. He turned his face away and Elwood’s heavy palm struck the side of his head. “Keep driving straight ahead,” he rumbled to the driver. “Not too fast. We’ve got lots of time and aren’t going nowhere.”

A bell was ringing dully in Shayne’s left ear. He kept his face averted, looking out the window at the thin mist.

“When did you and Mrs. Roche fix that stunt up?” Elwood demanded.

“What stunt?”

“Getting yourself locked up in my jail long enough to talk to her boy friend.”

The man sitting beside the driver turned half-way around and Shayne could see his profile clearly. It was the larger of the two officers who had arrested him in front of the Eustis Restaurant. Shayne said, “Nobody has to work hard at getting himself locked up in the Centerville jail. I was having a few drinks… tending to my own business…”

“Putting it on that you were drunk as a hooty-owl,” the chief agreed placidly. “Abrams and Gar were dumb enough to pull you in the way you wanted. What’d you get from Brand?”

“Your cops are dumb, all right,” Shayne agreed. “If I were running this town I’d fire a bunch of them and…”

“What you wanta take his lip for, Chief?” the man in the front seat interrupted. “Le’s stop right here an’ I’ll work ’im over good.”

“Shut up, Gar. You caused enough trouble throwin’ him in the can with Brand. I’d like to hear just how a smart Shamus from Miami would run Centerville.”

“I’d fire most of my force and hire somebody to do my thinking for me,” Shayne snarled. “You’re sitting on top of a bomb and the fuse is getting short.”

“It’s been short a good long time,” said Chief Elwood. “What kind of a story did Brand give you?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me,” Shayne grated. “He’d got word I’m working for AMOK and I had all my trouble for nothing.”

“I might believe that… except for the way Mrs. Roche got you loose and brought you out in the country for a talk. That figures like a put-up job.”

“We’re old friends,” Shayne told him wearily.

“She didn’t act like it when you first busted in at Roche’s house this evenin’.”

“You weren’t there.”

“I got ways of knowin’ what goes on in my town. What’d you get out of Ann Cornell?”

“Several drinks of corn.”

Chief Elwood chuckled. “She sets out a tasty drink.”

“Look, let’s try to understand each other,” said Shayne angrily. “We’re both on the same side of the fence. If you’ve talked to Gerald you know I’ve been retained by AMOK to hang Roche’s murder on George Brand. The way I see it, you can use some cooperation.”

“If you’re on our side, why’d you pull that stunt to get in and talk to Brand unbeknownst to any of us?”

“I figured it was my one chance to get to him before it became generally known that I’d hooked up with Persona,” Shayne explained. “Even then it was too late. God knows how many pipelines he’s got out of that jail, but…”

“That’s one of the reasons I don’t believe you,” Elwood interrupted. “You didn’t make your deal with Persona till late this evenin’. You’re the first guy from outside to see him since then, so I know you’re lyin’ when you say he already knew.”

“Then you’d better check your own goddamned cops,” Shayne growled. “Somebody passed him the news fast. Hell, in a set-up like you’ve got here in Centerville, who do you think you can trust? A dumb ape like Gar up there?” He laughed sardonically. “Bribery and corruption have been bywords in Centerville for years. Do you think for one moment your force can be trusted? Any fool ought to know that a crook who’ll take money in his left hand will take it in his right hand, too.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about it,” grunted Elwood.

“I’ve been around other towns run along the same general lines. That’s why I tried to get to Brand secretly without even letting any of your cops know why I wanted to see him. I thought he might do some talking if he thought I was on his side.”

“But he already knew you wasn’t, huh?” Elwood sounded half-convinced.

“He already knew about my meeting with Persona,” Shayne lied. “If I were chief of police, I’d be studying who knew about it and had a chance to pass it on to him inside the jail.”