Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 8, No. 6, May 1961

“Oh, we had some kind of a scrap, all right. I vaguely remember clobbering him and getting clobbered back. But I’ve always doubted that he deliberately threw me down the stairs. I wouldn’t put it past Marie to have pushed me herself. She would have liked to be rid of me, too.” He emitted another cynical chuckle. “If she did, it sure backfired. Now she’s stuck with my support for life.”

Shayne took a thoughtful puff on his cigarette. “You don’t seem to harbor much resentment against Trimble.”

Wright shrugged. “I’m not sure he did this to me. And even if he did, it wasn’t on purpose. Aside from being dumb, Barry isn’t a bad guy when he’s sober.”

The front door opened and Marie Cole entered. Behind her came a slim brunette, of about thirty and behind the brunette was Norbert Cole. The brunette had a nice figure, but a rather plain face at first glance. At second glance you noted her ripe lips and sultry expression and realized that even if she lacked photogenic beauty, there was a definite feminine allure about her.

Killing his cigarette, Shayne rose to his feet.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Shayne,” Marie Cole said. “You’ve met my brother, I see.” She introduced the brunette as Lydia Mason, adding the information that the woman was the staff writer for Breakfast with the Coles.

Shayne gave Lydia a polite nod and the woman murmured, “How do you do?” She crossed to seat herself in the chair nearest the detective.

Marie Cole seated herself on the sofa. After closing the door behind him, Norbert Cole seated himself next to his wife and waved Shayne back to his chair.

Harlan Wright said, “Mr. Shayne located Barry, Marie. He’s coming over tonight to cut your ears off.”

The platinum blonde’s eyes widened. Shayne growled, “Your brother has a misplaced sense of humor, Mrs. Cole.” He threw a glance at Lydia Mason.

Norbert Cole said, “You can make any report you have in front of Lydia, Mr. Shayne. She’s like one of the family.”

The redhead shrugged. “All right, then, Mrs. Cole, your ex-husband is living in a rooming house at South Portage and Labat. He has a dishwashing job at Schwartz’s Cafe, a few door from the rooming house. He isn’t interested in any revenge. He said to tell you he plans to stay on the wagon.”

“Barry stay on the wagon?” she said unbelievingly.

Norbert Cole said, “If he does, there isn’t much to worry about. It’s only when he’s drunk that he goes nuts.”

Shayne said, “He admitted being a Jekyll and Hyde drinker. He blames drink for what happened and doesn’t want a repeat. I’m inclined to believe he really means to stay away from the stuff, though of course I can’t guarantee that he will. But my opinion after talking to him is that you aren’t in any danger from him so long as he stays sober.”

“He was sober when he threatened to kill me five years ago,” she said dubiously.

“He insists it wasn’t meant as a threat. He says when he promised to wring your neck, it was just an angry remark. He has no intention of coming anywhere near you.”

“How’s he feel about me?” Cole asked.

Under ordinary circumstances Shayne wouldn’t have repeated Trimble’s exact words in order to shield his ex-wife’s feelings. But his opinion of Marie Cole had been steadily dropping ever since he first met her and he was beginning to doubt that she had any feelings other than concern for her own skin.

He said dryly, “He’s holding no grudge against you for marrying Marie. He said all you have is his sympathy.”

The woman flushed. Harlan Wright chuckled delightedly and she threw him a baleful glare. Norbert Cole and Lydia Mason discreetly showed no reactions at all.

Shayne rose to his feet. “I guess that about winds it up, Mrs. Cole. If you don’t think he’s capable of staying on the wagon, I suggest you lock your doors at night and stay off the streets when you’re alone for a time. If he does stay sober, I don’t think you have to worry.”

“How will I know whether or not he’s sticking to his resolution?” she inquired dissatisfiedly.

The redhead shrugged. “You have a problem. As things stand, you don’t even have much grounds to ask for a police guard, unless he does get drunk and tries to commit some overt act. About all you can do is be careful and hope he stays on the wagon.”

“Couldn’t you make a periodic check on him?”

Shayne shook his head. “I’m not a nursemaid, Mrs. Cole. I agreed to see him once and give you my opinion. If you want a regular check kept on him, you’ll have to hire some other investigator. It isn’t the sort of case that interests me in the least.”

“Well, could I at least call on you if he threatens me again?”

“If he does that,” Shayne agreed. “Phone me any time if you think you’re in real danger, and I’ll come running.”

Norbert Cole rose to show the redhead to the door. “That ought to be satisfactory, Marie,” he said. “With Mr. Shayne on tap for emergencies, there isn’t anything to worry about. We certainly appreciate what you’ve done, Mr. Shayne. Don’t we, Marie?”