Counterfeit Wife by Brett Halliday

Author:Brett Halliday [Halliday, Brett]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Detective, Mystery, Murder, private eye, Crime, Suspense, hardboiled
Google: jCSWoAEACAAJ
Amazon: B000UCDCLM
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1960-08-14T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

BLOOD MONEY

ROURKE’S EYES BLAZED venomously into Shayne’s for a moment. He started to push himself up from the couch, but the bleakness in Shayne’s eyes and the muscles moving in his gaunt face brought back memories of times when the detective had bound and gagged him to force him to listen to reason before spouting off and rushing headlines to his newspaper.

He settled back wearily after pouring a drink. “Okay, Mike. But this time it’s got to be good. Understand?”

Shayne nodded. He gave a brief account of his experience at the airport, dwelling upon the meeting with Dawson.

“When the porter brought me a Gladstone from the plane I didn’t realize he’d brought me the wrong one,” he explained. “I didn’t know I had Dawson’s bag until I discovered it was locked. You were very helpful in opening it for me right in Painter’s presence,” he added with a dry grin.

“Then Dawson is using your ticket and your name,” he exclaimed. “It’s actually Dawson who jumped the plane in Palm Beach.”

Shayne nodded and then related the story of the lush blonde with much less enthusiasm than he had felt at the time it happened. “I trailed her out,” he resumed, “because I didn’t know whether to tell her the truth about her supposed husband or not. She got in a gray sedan with Fred Gurney.”

“Gurney? He’s one of the cons there was such a stink about a few years ago. I covered that story. Bought a pardon from Raiford. There was a state-wide scandal afterward, involving a lot of other high-ups.”

Shayne nodded. “Senator Irvin was the central figure. They hushed it up somehow.”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Rourke sadly.

“I trailed the blonde and Gurney to a joint on Thirty-sixth street,” Shayne continued. “The Fun Club. Run by a guy named Bates. Ever heard of him?”

Rourke shook his head.

Shayne then told him about trying to pay for some drinks with one of the bills given him by Dawson, of the phone call Bates had made, and of his escape with Gerta Ross in the sedan.

“My God,” breathed Rourke. “Then you were the passenger in the wreck. Chick Farrel did recognize you. Why did you run away, Mike?” he went on excitedly. “Did you know the girl was in the trunk?”

“I didn’t run away,” Shayne told him. “I walked away with a gun in my back.” He gave a quick summary of his interview with ex-Senator Irvin and his escape from the house on 38th Street. “I stopped in a joint on Miami Avenue and called Gentry,” he explained. “He told me Farrel had spotted me in the wreck. That was the first time I knew there had been a kidnaping. I asked him to pick up Irvin, and that’s why he told me about the fire and the dead Negro in the basement. A broken glass bottle is a hell of a thing to shove into anyone’s face,” he added.

“I don’t get that stuff about the bills.” Rourke picked up the ten-grand bundle he had discarded and studied one of the bills carefully.

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