jail?”
Shayne studied her. “There’s a law against blackmailing football players, and conceivably he might go to jail. But to be honest about it, I don’t know. People in the gambling business don’t like to let the courts handle their discipline problems. I might be able to influence what happens. If nobody cooperates I won’t have much of a chance. There was also a stickup, incidentally. I don’t know how much he had to do with that.”
She made a quick joyless grimace and drank some more whiskey. “Oh, that’s great. If he had anything to do with a stickup, it wouldn’t be a gas station or a delicatessen, would it? It would be somebody important.”
“That’s the picture of Vince I’m beginning to get,” Shayne said. “I still don’t know much about him.”
She drew a deep breath. “I—lived with him, Mr. Shayne. You’ve guessed that. Everybody in the hotel thought it was foolish of me. They think it’s foolish to go on feeling the way I do about him now, but that doesn’t mean I can turn it off, like a faucet. When you came in, everybody automatically protected him because I guess they feel sorry for me. I’ve done my share of protecting Vince Donahue and pretending I didn’t know where he lived. But now I’m beginning to think that maybe—well, maybe if it’s not too serious, a little time in jail—”
She met his eyes and said quickly, “Not because he walked out on me. I’m not trying to get back at him. But he has to realize! With most people, it’s easy to get into things and hell to get out. But Vince always manages to get out just as easily as he gets in. Nothing bad ever seems to happen to him. Maybe going to jail won’t work. I guess it doesn’t, usually. But it would get him away from Miami Beach before the roof caves in. He’s—terribly handsome, Mr. Shayne. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen him, but he’s one of the best-looking people. The way he moves. And if something goes wrong this time I’m afraid—” She stopped and drank unhappily. “He’s proud of his teeth. He had caps put on last year and they’re absolutely perfect. The way he looks is the only real thing he’s ever had. And I can see how it’s going to end—with one person holding him and another hitting him in the face with brass knuckles.”
“How what is going to end?” Shayne asked.
She hesitated. “He’s running around with a married woman.” She searched his face. “Well, I started and I might as well finish. She’s staying at the St. Albans. Vince met her there at the pool. She must be thirty-five and she has loads of money. I saw her once and she’s not too bad-looking for somebody that old. I’m not jealous. Oh, I’m jealous, but I always knew I couldn’t have one hundred percent of Vince, even fifty-one percent. It isn’t the money that’s the big attraction this time. It’s who she’s married to. Would the name Al Naples mean anything to you?”
Shayne kept his face carefully blank. “I’ve heard of him. I’d say Mrs. Al Naples was somebody to stay away from.”
“But you’re not Vince, are you? She’s not the first married woman staying at the St. Albans that Vince has gone to bed with. But nothing like this ever happened before. The others were all married to—I don’t know—stocking manufacturers from New Jersey, who wouldn’t know what to do even if they found out. And they probably wouldn’t be too interested in finding out.”
The red-headed waitress stopped at the entrance to their booth, still trying. “Don’t trust him, Rose. Be smart for once in your life. The way he gets business is to keep his name in the papers. He’ll notify TV and radio and Life magazine. Big brave private eye rounds up dangerous teenage thug with his bare hands.”
“No, he won’t,” Rose said.
“And why do you care what happens to that bastard, after what he did to you—”
“I wasn’t married to him, after all. He didn’t make me any
Shayne studied her. “There’s a law against blackmailing football players, and conceivably he might go to jail. But to be honest about it, I don’t know. People in the gambling business don’t like to let the courts handle their discipline problems. I might be able to influence what happens. If nobody cooperates I won’t have much of a chance. There was also a stickup, incidentally. I don’t know how much he had to do with that.”
She made a quick joyless grimace and drank some more whiskey. “Oh, that’s great. If he had anything to do with a stickup, it wouldn’t be a gas station or a delicatessen, would it? It would be somebody important.”
“That’s the picture of Vince I’m beginning to get,” Shayne said. “I still don’t know much about him.”
She drew a deep breath. “I—lived with him, Mr. Shayne. You’ve guessed that. Everybody in the hotel thought it was foolish of me. They think it’s foolish to go on feeling the way I do about him now, but that doesn’t mean I can turn it off, like a faucet. When you came in, everybody automatically protected him because I guess they feel sorry for me. I’ve done my share of protecting Vince Donahue and pretending I didn’t know where he lived. But now I’m beginning to think that maybe—well, maybe if it’s not too serious, a little time in jail—”
She met his eyes and said quickly, “Not because he walked out on me. I’m not trying to get back at him. But he has to realize! With most people, it’s easy to get into things and hell to get out. But Vince always manages to get out just as easily as he gets in. Nothing bad ever seems to happen to him. Maybe going to jail won’t work. I guess it doesn’t, usually. But it would get him away from Miami Beach before the roof caves in. He’s—terribly handsome, Mr. Shayne. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen him, but he’s one of the best-looking people. The way he moves. And if something goes wrong this time I’m afraid—” She stopped and drank unhappily. “He’s proud of his teeth. He had caps put on last year and they’re absolutely perfect. The way he looks is the only real thing he’s ever had. And I can see how it’s going to end—with one person holding him and another hitting him in the face with brass knuckles.”
“How what is going to end?” Shayne asked.
She hesitated. “He’s running around with a married woman.” She searched his face. “Well, I started and I might as well finish. She’s staying at the St. Albans. Vince met her there at the pool. She must be thirty-five and she has loads of money. I saw her once and she’s not too bad-looking for somebody that old. I’m not jealous. Oh, I’m jealous, but I always knew I couldn’t have one hundred percent of Vince, even fifty-one percent. It isn’t the money that’s the big attraction this time. It’s who she’s married to. Would the name Al Naples mean anything to you?”
Shayne kept his face carefully blank. “I’ve heard of him. I’d say Mrs. Al Naples was somebody to stay away from.”
“But you’re not Vince, are you? She’s not the first married woman staying at the St. Albans that Vince has gone to bed with. But nothing like this ever happened before. The others were all married to—I don’t know—stocking manufacturers from New Jersey, who wouldn’t know what to do even if they found out. And they probably wouldn’t be too interested in finding out.”
The red-headed waitress stopped at the entrance to their booth, still trying. “Don’t trust him, Rose. Be smart for once in your life. The way he gets business is to keep his name in the papers. He’ll notify TV and radio and Life magazine. Big brave private eye rounds up dangerous teenage thug with his bare hands.”
“No, he won’t,” Rose said.
“And why do you care what happens to that bastard, after what he did to you—”
“I wasn’t married to him, after all. He didn’t make me any
Similar Books
