Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 41, No. 4, October 1977

Shayne looked around and saw Ann Waterman in one of the booths. The man with her was swarthy, typically Sicilian, with dark good looks, smooth, expensively dressed in the Florida style, white slacks, sports shirt, and a blue sports jacket. Ann Waterman waved to him, timidly.

Shayne strode over, and as he did he glanced toward the bar. Patterson and Wilson were there nursing their beers. Patterson game him a faint nod. Shayne turned toward Ann.

“Hi,” he greeted her. He nodded toward Allegretti. “I’m Mike. May I join you?”

“Sit down, Mike.”

Shayne pulled out a chair and sat down, studying Allegretti as he did so. The expression on the hood’s face was dour, his eyes dark with suspicion and hatred.

“Mike? What’s the rest of it?” He drummed the table lightly in a nervous gesture.

“Shayne.”

“With a Y?”

Shayne nodded.

The look Allegretti shot Ann Waterman was murderous. He said to her, in a tone that was almost a snarl, a sound from an angry and aroused jungle animal. “You met Mr. Shayne last night in the lounge of the Royal Admiral, for the first time?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her voice shook and freighted with fear she continued. “We just had a drink and talked.”

“About what?”

“We talked about boats,” Shayne said. “I like to fish, and Ann said you owned a boat and often sailed up and down the Intracoastal. I thought that maybe you’d allow me to go along some day and fish.”

“Mr. Shayne,” Allegretti said, his tone cold, “I don’t play games. You know who I am, and I know who you are.” He stuck a forefinger about an inch from Ann Waterman’s nose. “You don’t know, you stupid bitch.” He held his voice low. “Mr. Shayne, is a notorious private investigator, you understand, Miss Waterman?”

“How was I to know?” she defended herself. “He doesn’t wear a badge. He didn’t even tell me his last name. So, how was I to know?”

“That’s your trouble. Any man who buys you a drink is your immediate friend. What kept you from inviting him up to your apartment for the night?”

“Now, Pete, that’s uncalled for. We had one drink, talked a while and that was it. It was all very innocent.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding, Shayne? I know this broad. You don’t. She’s the prize pickup of this whole damned town. Everybody knows little Ann. Look at her! Look how she’s dressed! The only thing she doesn’t show is what the law doesn’t allow, but she will if you ask her.”

“I think you’re out of line, Pete. If you think that way about her, then why are you with her?”

“Because I hate her guts and her being with me makes her nervous. I like to see her nervous, shaking inside, not knowing what I will do to her from one minute to the next.”

“Why? Is that important to you?”

“Sure as hell. I started out with her, at first, because I felt she was my kind of gal. Everything was cosy until two weeks after we met. She’s a cheat and a double-crosser. I sit with her, and everybody who’s had her laughs at me. I’m waiting. At the right time, I’ll square things.”

“Pete, you’re nuts.”

“You hear that, you dumb bitch,” he said to Ann. “You hear how suddenly he knows me so well, it’s Pete this and Pete that.”

“I’m sorry, Pete.” She apologized. “I wouldn’t have invited him if I’d known he was a private detective.”

“Why don’t you consult with me first before you bring your damned pickups over. You and those damn tramp girl-friends of yours, Dottie, Marge, Teddy, Louise. Don’t you know any decent broads?”

“My friends are all decent, and so am I?” she protested, her anger welling up into enough courage to fight back.

Allegretti let out a hollow laugh. “Those broads decent? So are two-dollar hookers, except your pals don’t charge money. Like you, all it takes is two drinks and a sandwich.” His anger had risen and he was now in a murderous rage, alive and burning.

Shayne nodded to Patterson and Wilson. The two moved around in their seats at the bar. At that moment Tom Elfmont walked in. Allegretti spotted him and let out an obscene oath.

“Another one!” He snapped at Ann. “The joint is loaded with fuzz. You brought them in, you lousy tramp. You set me up, God damn you!”

“I didn’t. I don’t know any of these men. I’ve never seen them before.”

“That isn’t your fault!” he spat out. “Let’s go.” He threw a bill on the table and stood up. Ann looked at Shayne. There was an expression of deep fear in her eyes. Allegretti snapped, “Let’s go.” There was no mistaking the ominous threat in his tone.

Ann got up. As she passed Shayne, she whispered, “Follow us. He’s going to beat me.”

When they walked from the lounge, Shayne, Patterson, Wilson and Elfmont walked out behind them into the bright sunlight.

IV

Allegretti took Ann Waterman by an arm and pulled her to his car, a black Lincoln Continental. She balked when he tried to push her inside.