A Taste for Violence ms-17 Page 17

  “I suppose you’ll stick to your original story about the Brand house being empty when you got there.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Where was Jimmy Roche?”

  “There was a light in his house, so I stopped by on my way up to see Elsa. Jimmy was passed out in his bed. Look here, what do you hope to gain by this? It would only confuse the case against Brand if it comes out.”

  Shayne drew on his cigarette, blew out a puff of smoke and said, “You must have got something from Jimmy before you went up to see Mrs. Roche.”

  Seth Gerald said wearily, “He muttered something about being tired of Charles arguing with him about what ought to be done about the strike, and left him there waiting for Brand to come home.”

  Shayne was thoughtfully silent for a moment, then said flatly, “It still looks like you or Jimmy. Depending on whether Roche was dead before you got there.”

  “That’s pure supposition,” Gerald snapped. “Suppose Brand showed up after Jimmy left and before I reached the house? We can presume he lured Roche up the street and murdered him.”

  “So you’re going to claim he was dead before you got there,” Shayne said sharply.

  “I’m not claiming anything of the sort. I simply don’t know. I’m theorizing to fit the known facts.” Gerald was beginning to perspire profusely. He searched in his robe pockets for a handkerchief but didn’t find one.

  “Let’s look at facts the way a jury will,” Shayne suggested. “You’re going to have one hell of a time making anyone believe that Brand was fool enough to kill the man who offered him a signed agreement for settling the strike on Brand’s terms.”

  “Charles didn’t… I don’t believe…”

  “Charles did and I can prove it,” Shayne interrupted. “When that agreement is produced in court, every vestige of the case against Brand will go up in thin smoke.” He waited tensely to see how Gerald reacted. If he wasn’t worried… if he scoffed at that possibility… it would be strong evidence that he wasn’t afraid the agreement would be produced in court. That he had good reason for knowing it no longer existed.

  But Seth Gerald was worried, or else he was thinking as fast as Shayne and putting on a good show to indicate he was. “That would be horrible,” he said. “If you know where such a document is, let me remind you it’s worth a cool five thousand to you to make sure it doesn’t appear in court.”

  “There are other considerations besides money.”

  “What?” scoffed Gerald. “Don’t tell me that your heart bleeds for the cause of justice. I know something about your reputation.”

  “We’ll skip that until a little later. Right now I’m trying to make you understand the seriousness of your situation. If you don’t intend to admit that Roche was dead when you reached him, you’re practically dangling from the end of a rope right now.”

  “I don’t see why.” It was apparent that Gerald had thought all this out carefully. “Don’t forget that Jimmy called me in Charles’ presence. Charles knew I was on my way to intervene, so when Brand showed up he probably suggested they go some place else to have their talk. I imagine they disagreed on some of the terms and Brand lost his temper and killed him.”

  “You’re disregarding two elements,” said Shayne. “The signed agreement and the fact that you hurried to Mrs. Roche to fix up what amounted to an alibi for Jimmy. A jury will suspect you wouldn’t have done that without damned good reason to think he was going to need an alibi.” He leaned forward to grind out his cigarette.

  “No one in this town is going to pay much attention to what Elsa Roche says,” said Gerald contemptuously, “after she’s been flagrantly running around with George Brand.”

  Shayne hesitated, his thoughts racing ahead. The most delicate sort of timing was required for what he had in mind. The most carefully wrought intimation to bring the admission he hoped to wring from his host.

  He felt his way cautiously. “That may have a certain bearing on the whole case. On the other hand, it isn’t going to be too good for you if it gets around that you and Mrs. Roche weren’t… shall we say… exactly disinterested in each other.”

  “That’s a nasty lie,” Gerald snapped.

  “Is it?” Shayne grinned widely and relaxed, stretching his long legs out.

  Shayne’s grin evidently infuriated Gerald. “What do you mean by such an absurd insinuation?” he burst out. “Where did you pick up a thing like that?”

  Shayne looked surprised. “Can’t you guess?”

  “I cannot,” said Gerald angrily. He sat stiffly forward, his nostrils flaring with each stertorous breath. “There hasn’t been a breath of scandal about us. Not one breath.”

  “I suppose you thought you were being discreet,” Shayne said. “And you relied on the old truism that the husband is always the last to find out about a thing like that. Too bad for you that it didn’t turn out that way in this case. It’s going to look damned bad in court for you when it’s proved that Charles knew what was going on between you and his wife.”

  “That can’t be proved because it isn’t true,” said Gerald. “I don’t know what absurd basis you have for your statement, but someone has evidently been feeding you a pack of lies.”

  “You forget,” said Shayne blandly, “the anonymous letters Charles Roche has been receiving. The ones he sent me,” he amplified, “not the one he showed his wife and the police.”

  “That’s a lie!” Gerald was on his feet swiftly, his face darkly-red, his fists clenched. “There was nothing like that in those letters.”

  “You forget that they’re in my possession. I’m prepared to produce them to prove…”

  “You’ve made up some forgeries,” Gerald accused. “I don’t know what your object is, but those letters didn’t contain one word about…” He stopped abruptly, a look of shocked horror in his whole expression as he stared at Shayne’s grinning face. He backed away one step, then another.

  Shayne said, “Thanks. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say, Gerald. I had a hunch you’d written those threatening letters, but I was afraid it would be difficult to prove.”

  “I didn’t say…”

  “You made it very plain that you know what’s in those letters,” Shayne interrupted swiftly, before Gerald could get his thoughts in order. “The only person who knows that is the man who wrote them. Roche didn’t show them to anyone else.”

  Gerald sank into his chair again and mopped his wet face with his palms. “All right,” he said hoarsely, “if you do have those letters you know there’s not one word about Mrs. Roche and me in them.”

  “Naturally.” Shayne’s tone gently chided him. “I just wanted to force you to say you wrote them. I felt pretty sure you did,” he added.

  “I suppose it was a silly thing to do,” Seth Gerald groaned. “But I was at my wit’s end with the strike, and with Charles full of noble sentiments about the rights of the workers to share in the profits. I thought something like that might bring him to his senses. Good God!” he exclaimed suddenly. “You don’t think for a moment I meant those letters seriously. You can see that I just hoped to frighten some common sense into him.”

  “You don’t have to worry about what I think,” Shayne pointed out. “I won’t be a member of the jury that will have to decide whether you meant your threats or not.”

  Gerald wet his lips and made two efforts to speak before he succeeded in blurting out, “No one else has seen those letters. No one else suspects what was in them. He vaguely mentioned them as threats against his life. Nothing more than that.”

  “That’s right,” Shayne assented. “If he hadn’t mailed them to me before he was murdered you’d be safe right now. I doubt,” he went on generously, “whether any jury would convict you of his murder without the evidence of those letters.”

  “You’re bluffing,” blustered Gerald. “I see it all now. You think you can hold me up… blackmail me… with a threat like that. I warn you I’m not easily frightened. Those
letters aren’t real evidence against me. Everyone who knows the circumstances will understand my real motive in writing them.”

  “Let’s look at it objectively,” said Shayne. “First, we have Charles’ impending birthday when he will assume control of the mines and possibly fire you out of a soft job. Then we have a strike which he is willing to settle at terms which you consider detrimental. Third, we have a series of letters, anonymous, but admittedly written by you, threatening his life if he does not agree to hold out against the strikers. Next, there is his signed agreement with Brand which would have become effective on his birthday. You were on the spot at the approximate time of his death… you hurried from there to his widow and fixed up a lie for her to tell to explain your presence there. Hell!” he exploded, “that’s enough evidence to hang ten men. Just the letters and the fact that he’s dead would be enough. Juries have a funny way of linking two facts like that together.”

  “I didn’t do it, Shayne. I swear I didn’t kill him. He was already dead. I saw him there beside the road. I couldn’t do anything for him, but I thought of the mines… and of Jimmy. That’s why I went to Elsa and advised Jimmy to tell Ann Cornell what to say. I swear that’s the truth.”

  “Maybe,” said Shayne. “But do you think a jury will believe you?”

  “They will if they don’t see the letters.”

  “Possibly.”

  “What do you want?” Gerald demanded fiercely. “Tear up those letters and keep your mouth shut and let Brand hang as he deserves. He must be guilty. I don’t believe for a moment Jimmy Roche killed his own brother. You’ll only defeat justice if you bring up those letters. And you’ll lose the five thousand Persona offered.”

  “I warned you at the beginning,” said Shayne, “that I like money, but there are other considerations that tempt me.”

  “What in God’s name do you want?” Gerald demanded again.

  “I’ve decided that I’d like to be chief of police of Centerville for about six months.”

  “Chief of police!” Gerald’s mouth fell open and he seemed powerless to close it. He stared at Shayne with a queer look in his eyes, then managed to say, “But we’ve got a chief. Henry Elwood…”

  “I’ve met Elwood,” Shayne told him grimly. “That’s why I think Centerville needs a new deal. Those are my terms. Make me chief, and I’ll suppress those letters. Otherwise…” He shrugged wide shoulders and got to his feet.

  “That’s the most fantastic proposal I ever heard,” gasped Gerald. “Even if I agreed, what makes you think I could arrange a thing like that?”

  “I’ve been in company-owned towns before.”

  “But I don’t control the police department. The mayor and the city council are the only ones who have authority to make a change like that.”

  “And you own the mayor,” said Shayne. “Get him on the phone.”

  “But what would I tell him? What possible reason…?”

  Shayne said, “I’ll give you plenty of reason.” He was silent for a moment, his rugged red brows drawn together. Then he relaxed, crossed one knobby knee over the other, and said slowly:

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a municipality brought in an expert to straighten things out. Only a few people here know my business. You might explain to the mayor that Henry Elwood is a cold-blooded murderer and is locked up in his own jail. You could say that Charles Roche wrote and asked me to come here and do something about the horrible conditions existing in the police force… the frightened, groveling attitude of the common people after years of tyranny. I’ve heard a lot about how things go in communities like this where the majority of the people are poor and down-trodden and don’t dare say anything. I’ve read about returning soldiers who don’t even go to the polls and vote because the big bosses toss their votes into the waste basket if they don’t mark the right names. You’ve got that condition right here in Centerville.”

  Seth Gerald’s black eyes were narrowed upon him. Sweat dripped from his face and dropped on his silk robe. When Shayne paused, he demanded, “What do you mean Chief Elwood is a cold-blooded murderer?”

  “Do you know a police sergeant named Gantry?”

  “Bill Gantry? He’s on the desk at headquarters,” said Gerald. “Sure I know him.”

  Shayne said, “Yeh. Handsome young fellow. I have an idea he’d have been a different man if he hadn’t got hooked up with Centerville’s police department.”

  “What about Gantry? All I know is he couldn’t go on with his college work after he came back from the war because he has a wife and three children. He took a job on the police force. What about him?” Gerald stood over him. His tone was demanding. He appeared to have regained his poise.

  Shayne glanced up at him and asked, “Does he have a telephone?”

  “Probably. I’ll look and see.” Gerald turned swiftly and picked up the telephone book, gave Shayne the number, and asked again, “What the hell has Gantry got to do with this?” His hands were trembling, and again he mopped his face with his palms.

  Shayne started toward the telephone on the desk. He asked, “How does Gantry’s family stand around here?”

  “One of the oldest… the best. His wife’s parents and their parents were considered… well… what people called aristocrats. First settlers and that sort of thing. Used to be rich. I’ve heard he gave away land and properties to poor people so they could get a start. A goddamned fool, if you ask me,” Gerald ended sarcastically.

  Shayne was calling central. He gave the number. The phone rang only half a ring before a woman’s voice answered. “Yes? Is this you, Bill?” She was plainly hysterical. Tears were in her voice.

  Shayne felt sorry as hell for her. He said, “This isn’t Bill. I called to talk to him in case he got home earlier than I expected.”

  “Have you seen him? Where is he?” she asked, and he could hear the hope in her voice. “When did he say he would be home?”

  He said, “He asked me to tell you he might not be home for several hours.”

  “I’ve been phoning everywhere,” Mrs. Gantry said. “Thank you so much. I feel greatly relieved. You see our baby is very sick. She was taken suddenly, and I wanted Bill to know about it. If you see him, will you please tell him. Who are you…?”

  Shayne said gruffly, “I’m a friend of your husband’s,” and slammed the receiver on the hook. He got up pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. Sweat was dampening his polo shirt and slacks, and they were sticking to his body. He wiped his face and turned to Seth Gerald. His gray eyes were bleak and the muscles in his gaunt face twitched.

  “What did she say?” Gerald asked. His face was twitching nervously.

  Shayne took time to light a cigarette. His big hands shook as he held the match to it. He walked toward the door taking slow, deliberate strides. He picked up his hat on the way, turned and said:

  “Henry Elwood murdered Gantry cold and deliberately on his front porch tonight. I saw him take the gun from his desk and go out. I heard him order Gantry to be brought to his house because he thought Gantry had kept George Brand informed. I heard the shot. Elwood had ordered Andrews to bring Gantry there while I was riding with him after he had ordered me to leave Mrs. Roche’s car.

  “I can produce a silenced revolver with Elwood’s fingerprints on it, and ballistics will say it killed Gantry,” Shayne continued. “Andrews witnessed the murder. He will probably be glad to testify if he isn’t scared out. Make me chief and I’ll arrest Elwood and throw him in his own stinking jail. The mayor will get headlines for acting promptly and decisively. If you do as I say you won’t have to hear those letters read in court.”

  Gerald was pacing the floor, his hands locked behind his back. He gave no hint of being shocked, or even surprised, that Elwood had murdered Gantry in cold blood. He paused near the door and faced Shayne. “How do I know I can trust you,” he asked bitterly, “if I accede to your fantastic demand?”

  “You don’t. Your only assurance is that you might have t
he power to kick me off the job if I don’t carry out my part of the bargain.”

  “The mayor will think I’ve gone starkly insane,” he argued.

  “Not if you convince him the people of Centerville are behind you,” grated Shayne. “Think it over, Gerald.”

  “We’d better wait until a decent hour tomorrow morning…”

  “Get on the phone now,” Shayne commanded. “It’s got to be done fast,” he went on inexorably, “while Elwood’s asleep and before he has a chance to destroy any of the evidence against him.” He turned from the door and sat down.

  Gerald went reluctantly to the telephone. Shayne lit a cigarette and listened while he outlined the plan to the mayor of Centerville.

  18

  It was seven o’clock in the morning when Shayne closed the door of the mayor’s living room, leaving a quorum of the city council, the mayor and the city attorney still in conference after having been aroused from their beds and summoned into extraordinary session. The legality of the procedure had been gravely doubted by the attorney, but they had reached an agreement to take positive action at once and follow it up later with a regular session to confirm Shayne’s authority.

  Shayne went on to the porch and stood dragging in deep breaths of the cool morning air, clearing his lungs of the thick cigar and cigarette smoke he had been inhaling for hours. The thing had been absurdly simple, as he had anticipated. One telephone call from the general manager of the Roche mines had set the necessary forces in motion. Seth Gerald had not appeared in the matter after that first telephone call. It had been evident from the beginning of the meeting that Henry Elwood had stepped on many important toes during his tenure, and they were not at all unhappy to have this chance to be rid of him.

  Shayne went down the steps and got in his car, glanced at a slip of paper in his hand and drove directly to a two-family dwelling on the east side of Centerville.

  A young woman came to the door when he rang the bell. Her hair wasn’t combed and her eyes were dull with sleep. She wore a cotton robe and carried a tiny baby in her arms. She said she was Mrs. Andrews, and looked worried when Shayne demanded to see her husband at once.