Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine Annual, No. 3, 1973

He drove home, stopping at a bar for a couple of drinks. He made certain Jean was back before he returned. She was in the living room, already dressed in a lounging robe with her hair in curlers, and a significant lack of warmth predominated her greeting.

“Why Leo, I didn’t expect you this early.”

“And how did you spend the evening, my dear?”

“How do I spend all my evenings when you’re not at home? Looking at television, reading—”

He loosened his tie and unlaced his right shoe because it hurt across the instep. “Of course I know you’re lying,” he said.

Her expression didn’t change. “Have you been following me again, Leo?” she asked in a matter-of-fact voice. It was her utter lack of fear that infuriated him.

“The Brick Cellar for dinner,” he related. “An unsavory, cheap place. Your new friend must be very frugal.”

“Not as frugal as poor,” she corrected.

“I see. Well then, there was a ride to the King’s Manor Motel with a long stop oh a lonely road first. Am I doing well, my dear?”

“You’re accurate enough,” she admitted. “What do you intend to do about it, Leo?”

He wasn’t feeling the liquor he’d drunk at the bar, so he poured himself a double shot and made a short highball for Jean. She didn’t touch it.

He returned to his chair and sat down slowly, regarding her with quiet contemplation.

“Of course you remember Charlie?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“I killed him, you know.”

For a moment he thought he was going to draw a reaction of fear because she sucked in a quick breath and was quite noisy about it. Her eyes too, went very large and looked down at her silly oversized, imitation-fur-lined slippers. He’d hoped for more than that, but he was willing to settle for what he’d gotten. The real fear would come later.

“Yes,” she said, “I thought you did, Leo. Though I must say I didn’t think you’d admit it.”

“I’m safe enough, Jean. I’m not afraid of what you might do.”

She did take a drink then, and it gratified Leo very much. He waited politely until she set the glass down again.

“Killing him was very easy,” he said, without bragging.

“Charlie was such a small man in comparison to you and quite without half your strength, Leo. I believe he must have been easy to kill. You strangled him, didn’t you?”

“The method is known to the police as mugging.”

“Yes, they said he was the victim of some cheap mugger. Leo, are you going to kill this new man also?”

“Of course I am. He’s encroaching upon my property, isn’t he?”

“I dislike being referred to as property, Leo.”

“I beg your pardon,” he said with a trace of sarcasm. “I stand corrected.”

“You might be tempting fate, you know.”

“I’ve tempted Fate in everything I’ve ever done. When I ran guns in the Middle East and the Orient. I tempted her when I established myself in a legitimate business. Both times Fate treated me very well for my risks.

“Only in you did she turn away from me. I’m older than you. I’m quite ugly, I suppose, but I am sufficiently educated and I dress well and I have a way about me that permits me to get by in the places where my money doesn’t count. Those are few and far between, but I do get by there. You, of course, are an exceedingly attractive woman. I understand why men seek you out.”

“Why don’t you just let me go, Leo? It would be so much easier and there’d be no risk.”

“I prefer to handle this in my own way. Your Charlie — that great lover — was an attorney, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was a lawyer.”

“He should have known better than to trespass, then. He died rather quickly. Would you like to hear about it, my dear?”

“I would not, but I’m quite sure I’ll have to endure it, Leo.”

He shook his head sorrowfully. “If you would only be as considerate and wise in your other dealings, Jean. I followed you and Charlie that night. You went to his office, long after hours and you stayed there right through the dinner hour. You and Charlie ate quite late that evening, if you remember. I waited outside.”

“Oh,” she asked. “Were you hungry, Led? I hope you were.”

“Yes, I was, and getting angrier by the minute. But then, you and Charlie obliged me. He drove you home and then he returned to town, put his car in the public garage where he always kept it. He worried me a bit at that moment because, instead of going directly home, he stopped at a bar. I had a drink with him. He wasn’t a bad sort, if you like the quiet, withdrawn kind.

“I even paid for the drink and we discussed — what do you think? — opera. He was quite a fan, which surprised me somewhat. Well, he then obliged me by going home through the alley he invariably used. I followed him and it didn’t make any difference if he saw me.”

“Did you tell him you were going to murder him, Leo?” she asked. “Of course you did. It heightened the drama of the moment, didn’t it? You most certainly would have told him.”

He wagged his head again. “You know me so well — and so little, Jean. It’s really a pity.”

“I’m quite tired,” she said. “I wish you’d get through the gory details which you insist I hear. Then let me go to bed.”