Shoot to Kill (16 page)

The bartender set a shot-glass of cognac in front of the redhead with a glass of ice water beside it. Shayne took a sip and continued in a conversational tone: “Only one casualty. I lost your cap somewhere along the line. And I ran up a few bucks on your meter that you’ll have to turn in.” He withdrew the wadded five-hundred bill from his pocket and slid it in front of the taxi-driver.

The man spread it out slowly on the mahogany, protesting, “That was an old cap, Mike. You don’t hafta…” He paused, looking down at the denomination of the bill. “Holy gee! Is that two goddamn zeroes I’m looking at?”

Shayne said happily, “That’s right. Hacking was real profitable tonight. Buy your old lady a fur coat or something.” He tossed off the rest of his drink and chased it with water, stood up and put his left hand firmly on the stocky man’s shoulder. “Thanks for the drink.”

He went out and got into his own car, started the motor and glanced at his watch. He had promised Lucy Hamilton he would let her know how things turned out if it wasn’t too late. He decided it wasn’t too late, and he turned east in the direction of her apartment.

The lights were all out in the front windows of her second-floor apartment when he parked in front of the building, and he got out his key-ring as he entered the small foyer, and selected from it a key which Lucy had given him for emergencies many years ago, but which he had not used more than two or three times in all those years.

It unlocked the outer door for him, and he went in and climbed one flight of stairs, and the same key unlocked the door of her apartment.

He went into the entry-hall and switched on the ceiling light in the living room, entered through the archway and hesitated momentarily when he saw it was empty and her bedroom door was closed.

Then he thrust his hand deep into his pocket and fingered the wad of bills there, strode blithely across to the door and opened it.

Enough light entered Lucy’s bedroom from behind him to show the outline of her body curled up beneath the covers on the bed, and Shayne walked quietly to her side and looked down at her face pressed against the pillow.

She was sleeping peacefully and trustfully, just as she had been earlier that night when he returned to his apartment, and again he stood beside her for a long moment, looking down at her and remembering a lot of things.

Then he brought his hand out of his pocket and held it high in the air over her head and began letting thousands of dollars begin fluttering down over her.

She stirred as some of the bills settled gently on her face, and opened her eyes slowly to look up into his grinning face, and then she sat up quickly, brushing the bills away and looking at them in bewilderment on the bedspread in front of her.

She looked up at him again, shaking her tousled head gravely, and told him with a catch in her voice, “A mink coat doesn’t cost that much money, Michael.”

His grin widened and he opened his big fist to let the rest of the money fall into her lap. He said generously, “Then let’s make it ermine, angel. Get yourself into a robe while I fix us both a drink and tell you what a smart guy you’re working for.”