Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 12, No. 6, May 1963

The old man’s face hardened. “That’s what bothers me. It was their idea to come live with me after I told Effie about the will. She never cared before about me. Hadn’t heard from her for ten years — that was when her mother died. I think she blamed me for that somehow. It’s just peculiar that’s all. Me busting my leg on that porch and now getting hit over the head like this. And what’s the use telling you about the other couple of times. I’d hate to think my granddaughter had anything to do with them. It has to be that husband of hers who’s in back of it all.”

“You really think it’s Tod Bascom?”

Raymond spanked his thigh. “That’s just it, Shayne. I’m trying to be fair about this — but I want to know for sure. I can’t help feeling he’s a fortune hunter who married Effie because of the will. But according to them, they were married six months ago, before I told her about the will. Still, when they showed up here awhile back to live with me, I started worrying about it. Especially after what’s been happening to me. And now this porch business and last week somebody left the motor running in the garage!”

Shayne tugged at his earlobe. “You could be mistaken and all of this could be just accidental.”

“Not when the garage door shuts behind you and you got to break it down to save your neck. But you’re the detective, aren’t you? It’s up to you to figure out if they’re fixing to stir up some trouble. Right?”

“You mean like killing you to collect the inheritance?”

“Why not?” The old man said. “There’s millions in my pocket.”

Shayne said, “Is it barely possible you got too much sun out here on the porch and fell down and hit your head?”

“Not on your tintype. I may be old but I’m not feeble minded. Somebody crowned me, that’s for sure.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so! Now are you working for me or against me?”

“For,” said Shayne. “How much do you figure the job is worth?”

Raymond’s eyes slitted. “I won’t horsetrade with you. You clear up my mind about Effie and her husband and I’ll pay you two thousand dollars.”

Before Mike Shayne could ask him how to start going about that, there was a commotion behind them. Hat Raymond sprang erect, for all his stiff joints, his face coming apart in amazement. “Well, I’ll be damned! Here they are now, Shayne. Back earlier than I figured by the look of things.”

Two people had started up the walk. Behind them, Shayne saw another car near his own. A sedan. He berated himself for not hearing them drive up. A bad sign he was getting careless or had been too engrossed in Hat Raymond’s story.

“Grandpa! What happened — are you all right? Did you fall again?”

The girl was young, slender, brunette and very prim looking. A rescued spinster if Shayne had ever seen one. Her eyes shown with embarrassment and there was a halting sincerity to her tone. The man with her was young too. Tall, powerful and quietly thoughtful. His eyes searched Shayne’s face without a flicker of warmth.

“Blast it,” Hat Raymond cried. “Got no call coming back early! Surprises are no good for men of my age. Shayne, this here’s Effie and Tod. We were just talking about you.”

“Oh.” Tod Bascom’s eyes were mildly surprised. His handshake was perfunctory. Effie Bascom nodded nervously, apparently still concerned about her grandfather.

“He stumbled and fell,” Shayne said quietly. “Luckily I was here to help. Hat and I are old friends.”

“Grandpa,” Effie said. “I’m glad we came back so, soon. Fact is, Tod didn’t think we should stay away too long. So we hurried back. He finished his business sooner than he expected anyway.”

Shayne nodded. “What kind of business is that?” he asked politely.

“Real estate,” Tod Bascom said, not without pride of a kind. “Things are really booming in this part of Florida. You thinking of settling down here, Mr. Shayne?”

“I’ve lived in Miami a long time,” Shayne said.

“Now, now,” Hat Raymond interrupted. “Ever since this young pup came down from Georgia, his office has been after him for new accounts. Forget it.” He turned to his granddaughter. “Mr. Shayne is staying for dinner, Effie.”

Effie Bascom’s smile didn’t mask her sudden confusion. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Fine, fine,” Tod Bascom echoed. “Give Grandpa a change of venue.”

“Yeah,” chuckled the old man. “You love birds get mighty tiresome with your infernal billing and cooing.”

He winked at Mike Shayne. The redhead smiled back but his brain was racing. The set-up was too simple. If the Bascoms wanted to kill an old man to garner an inheritance, why had they waited so long? If Raymond were telling the truth, he’d been at their mercy for weeks. In this deserted wilderness, anything could have been arranged. Suddenly, Shayne realized there was something Hat Raymond hadn’t told him. It just didn’t add up.

“I’ll go see what we have in the fridge,” Effie Bascom said.

Even as she left, tripping into the interior of the house, Shayne wondered about the bits of leaves and straw still clinging to the material of her pretty blue skirt.

III