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

“You really have to go?” Hat Raymond asked forlornly. “We really didn’t get to talk much — about that deal, I mean.”

“I know,” Shayne admitted. “But all the contracts will be ready tomorrow morning. I’ll pick them up at the lawyers first thing and drive out here. You have the check ready for the full amount.”

“All right,” wheezed the old man. “Sounds good. I am tired at that and my head is still sore.”

“You take care, partner.” Shayne wrung the leathery old paw warmly. “I need you. Well, Tod. See you again tomorrow. Been nice meeting you.”

All three of them saw him to the front door. The front light was on, a strong beam lighting the driveway. All about them, the surroundings lay dark and ominous. Far off, the concentrated glare of Lomar Point glittered like a jewel in the darkness.

Hat Raymond tried to read Shayne’s eyes as he left but gave up, sighing, rubbing his hand on his bruised forehead. Effie said goodnight timidly and Tod Bascom waved a farewell.

Shayne pulled his coat collar tight against the night wind that was building and reached his car. He turned the key on, let the motor pulse into life and lit a cigarette. Finally, he stabbed the darkness with his headlights, picked up the shell drive and drove off. The road dipped and swallowed his car. Soon, the lights of Point Lomar were behind him. The gloom swallowed him before he could reach the highway.

He pulled off the road, cut the engine, then the lights and slipped out of the car. A long vigil lay ahead of him but it might well be worth everything. By his clear calculations, he had forced the amateur hands of Effie and Tod Bascom. They weren’t about to let a half million dollars fade away on some land appropriation if they really were responsible for the clumsy attempts on Hat Raymond’s life.

Mike Shayne ran back through the dense shrubbery, heading for the ranchhouse. The front light had long since been extinguished. The sky was shot with bright stars. He worked his way toward the house, deciding on approaching from the rear.

There was a sound of a television playing in the stillness. A rush of water as, though Effie were washing dishes. Somebody coughed. It sounded like old Hat’s phlegmy voice.

Of course, it could be hours before the Bascoms made their move. But of one thing the redhead was certain. That move would come tonight before Point Lomar saw another dawn. It had to, if the Bascoms were guilty.

He edged forward in the dark, skirting a hedge and squeezing past the last line of palm trees. An unbroken stretch of twenty yards led to the back of the house. A solitary light shone from the living room. The television sound seemed to come from there too. Shayne raced across the open ground and closed with the covering dark of the house’s shadow.

He found the screen window Raymond had told him about, eased it open and clambered inside. Voices hummed nearby. He recalled the physical layout of the rooms. Kitchen just before him and to the right. Living room left. He crept forward stealthily, unholstering his .45. It felt comfortable in his hand.

“More brandy, Grandpa?”

“No thanks, honey. I’m fine.”

“You sure your head is all right? That was a bad bump.”

“Can’t kill me.” The old man’s laugh was full-throated. “It was lucky that Shayne got here when he did.”

“Grandpa.” Effie Bascom sounded troubled. “Are you really going into this deal with Mr. Shayne?”

“Course, I am. It’s a fine investment.”

“I suppose you’re right but it sounds so risky and that is an awful lot of money.”

“Effie, I’m surprised at you.” The oil in Tod Bascom’s voice made Shayne grin in the darkness. “Grandpa knows what’s good. I think it’s a grand idea. Now stop bothering him and go to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“All right, Tod. Goodnight, Grandpa.”

“Night, honey. Don’t you fret about your old Grandpa. He knows what he’s doing.”

The loudness of the voices guided Shayne forward. He heard the sudden patter of Effie’s heels going upstairs. A brief silence followed in which he could hear liquid pouring from a bottle into a glass.

“Have another drink, Grandpa?”

“Sure, son. I feel like tying one on tonight.”

Shayne reached the door and edged it open a fraction. A thin sliver of vision showed him Tod Bascom next to Hat Raymond holding a glass in his hand. The clean set of the younger man’s face was deceiving.

Hat Raymond was chuckling in his old man’s way. “Damn fool.”

“Who?” It was Tod, sounding surprised.

“That Mike Shayne. Thought he knew his stuff. So he comes, turns tail and runs.” He fell to chuckling again.

“I don’t understand you, Grandpa.”

“Huh? Oh, never mind. Tell me, you and Effie happy?”

“What do you think? I love her. She loves me.”

“That’s good. That’s why I put her in my will. I want her to have everything when I go.”

Tod Bascom laughed nervously. “You’ll live longer than anybody.”

The old man chortled. “Don’t think I won’t. Had another checkup just Monday. Doc Bates says my pump is as good as a colt’s. Hell, if a man’s heart is sound, he can last forever.”