Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 34, No. 5, April 1974

At the shore end of the dock there was a standing light fixture. Nobody had bothered to turn the light off as yet. Under it was a bench, and on the bench was a slender figure in blue slacks and a blue and white check sports jacket which Shayne recognized at first glance. He left his car parked on the grass in front of the big house and walked down to the dock.

Tim Rourke got up off the bench and hurried to meet him. “Well you finally got here, maestro,” the lanky newsman greeted his friend. “I’ve been up all night answering questions, and now and then asking a few of my own. I need sleep and breakfast and a good stiff drink — in reverse order. Mostly I need to relax, but didn’t want to do that till you showed up.”

“What’s all this about, Tim?”

“This is what it’s about.” Rourke took a sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it over to his big friend.

It was a piece of embossed Peckinbaugh stationary from one of the writing desks in the mansion. The message it bore was typed carefully in the center of the sheet:

“Rourke, we’ve got a Mexican standoff. You saw me, but I saw you too. As long as the amount you name is a reasonable one, we can do business. Do I need to say more?”

“Well,” Mike Shayne asked, “does he need to say more? Who wrote this thing?”

“That’s what I need you to find out for me,” Rourke said, “I haven’t got the faintest idea. He thinks I know him, but I swear, Mike, I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman. This was in my pocket last night after dinner. That’s why I called you.”

“Who had a chance to put it there?”

“Anybody. Anybody at all. We ate buffet style, milling around the ground floor. Everybody was upset by the news they’d found Harvey, his body I mean. Any one of twenty guests or that many servants could have planted this thing on me. Mike, let’s go in. I’m tired and I need a drink.”

Mike Shayne looked at his friend and agreed. Tim Rourke showed the effects of a long and sleepless night. His face was drawn, and his thin hands trembled slightly.

“Okay,” Shayne said.

“We’ll go back to the house.” Rourke said. “Some of the servants must be up by now. I’ll have breakfast and a bottle brought up to my room. Then I can fill you in on this business.”

Half an hour later the two friends were seated by the window of Tim Rourke’s guest room looking out over the sea towards the Gulf Stream. A serving table between them held plates of scrambled eggs and sausage, hot rolls with butter, a covered bread basket, oranges and mangos and a pot of steaming coffee. There was also a bottle of brandy which they were using to lace the coffee.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Mike Shayne Said, “Okay now. Give me the details.”

Tim Rourke looked more relaxed. “The last time anybody saw old Harvey alive,” he said, “was after dinner two nights back. The house was full of people and there was drinking and partying going on. Harvey was in the den on the ground floor playing poker with some of his business and political buddies. Sam Hill’s boys can give you the list.

“About one in the morning Harvey got up from the table. He was losing heavily, but he didn’t cash in his hand. Just said he needed air and was going to take a stroll and see how the party was going. The next time anybody saw him was when that boat pulled his body out of the water.”

“You mean nobody in this place saw him after he left the poker table? Nobody?”

“Somebody did,” Rourke said. “Somebody killed old Harvey and he had to see him to do it. Then again I may have seen him, too. At least, whoever typed me that little mash-note seems to think I did.” Rourke took a drink of coffee.

“Suppose you get down to the nitty gritty of why anybody would think a thing like that.”

“I’m getting to that,” Rourke said, “as fast as I can. Just give me a chance. As a matter of fact I’m not too clear about the whole thing in my own mind. You have to remember the party had been going on for a couple of days by then and it was a real bash. A real swinger. There was this girl. We’d been up in her room after dinner and we’d had quite a few drinks.”

“I’ll bet you had,” Mike Shayne grinned sardonically.

“Okay, okay,” Rourke said. “So I was a little sozzled maybe. Anyway the girl was more. She passed out and that stopped the fun, so I did just what Harvey told the boys he was going to do. I went out for air.”

“That’s when you saw somebody?”

“Not at first. I walked around for quite a bit,” Rourke said. “After a while I was down by the formal gardens along the shore north of the house. There’s shrubbery there and trees and benches. Dark. You know, a great place for couples. Anyway I was talking in there when I came on two people. They were under the shade of some trees.”

“You couldn’t recognize them?”