Murder Takes No Holiday by Brett Halliday Page B

your way. I understand your feelings. Why do you think I called you? To implore you to return what you have stolen from me? I am not so innocent. Or do you think I am holding you on the phone till my men have time to reach the airport? I thought of that, but they could never get there in time, and how could they force their way onto the field? I have made a better arrangement. Your wife is here with me.”
    After listening to Slater’s response, he laughed unpleasantly. “Patience, patience. She is perfectly all right, although we had to hit her several times before she agreed to come with us. I would let you speak to her, but I fear she would urge you to complete your escape. Her morale seems excellent. She is quite defiant, as a matter of fact. I have a scratched face from her fingernails. I admire her for it, Paul. I assure you she will not be hurt unless you continue to do these foolish things. Come to me and we can talk things over sensibly and reach a sensible conclusion.”
    He continued in a moment, “I see your position. There is a large sum of money involved, and you want to make your calculations. If you return to the plane, what horrible thing, after all, can happen?” His voice climbed shrilly. “You will not see her again, Slater! You have been quarrelling. This is a small island, news travels quickly. I know all about it. You have behaved foolishly with another woman. Perhaps it will not matter to you that your wife is dead. Perhaps you will be pleased. This is a chance I must take.”
    He listened again. “I would not? You are wrong, dead wrong. If I promise you something and you pay no attention to me, I would have to do it, or no one would be impressed with me from that time on. Every petty thief in the islands would think he can rob Alvarez and have nothing to fear. I do not care to sound melodramatic, but this is what I will do. I will take her out in my boat. Sometime later, I will return alone, minus your lovely wife, minus my oyster knife, minus my anchor.”
    He paused, and Shayne heard the faint note of relief in his voice when he spoke again. “I was sure you would look on it sensibly, Paul. We will be at the country place. You know the way. Get a taxi. Half an hour should do it easily. If you are delayed by a flat tire, or anything of that nature, be sure to phone me. I wouldn’t want anything to happen I would regret.”
    He hung up. Shayne swallowed the last of the cognac and went over to the doorway. Alvarez still had his hand on the phone. He winked at Shayne, pleased with his own cleverness. Signalling the operator again, he gave her another number.
    When the connection was open he said abruptly, “Who is this, Al?… I want three men and a car. In a hurry. Try José first. His brother, if you can get him. Offer six pounds apiece for the night, go to ten if you have to. Tell them to meet at the Half Moon. I will be waiting there in the Minx. Have you got that?”
    Shayne could see the ugly outline of the .45 in the Venezuelan’s right coat pocket. He waited until the bartender had repeated the instructions and hung up. Then he stepped around the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he took the Camel’s right wrist and yanked him forward.
    “Don’t try to reach the gun,” Shayne told him gently, “or you’ll be in worse shape than you are now. I heard some of that. You’ve worked up quite a crowded schedule. And where do I fit in? You made a deal with me, and I’d like to see some action on it.”
    “Things have changed. I—”
    Shayne took a quick backward step, jerking Alvarez to his feet. Without putting pressure anywhere except on the wrist, Shayne walked him backward until he slammed against the wall. The man’s face, gray to begin with, had turned a disagreeable shade of off-white.
    “You seem to have problems,” Shayne said. “So long as you don’t forget that I’m one of them. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re figuring on dumping me. I wouldn’t like