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

Hot Ice, Cold Death

by Brett Halliday

(ghost written unknown)

A return telephone call seems a small item with which to topple a multi-billion dollar empire of crime. But with Shayne and a prodigal brunette beauty to push, underworld thrones grow shaky.

I

On the night Salvatore “Momo” Giancanna was assassinated in a Chicago suburb, Mike Shayne, the big Miami private investigator, a redhead with a temper, was awakened by the raucous jangle of the telephone. He buried his head in the pillow in an effort to shut out the sound. No use. Shayne swore aloud. He reached out a muscular arm and yanked the receiver off the hook.

“Shayne here. What the hell do you want? It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

“That’s why I called,” the voice at the other end said. “I wanted to be sure I’d get you in.”

“Okay. You got me in. Now what?”

“My name’s Harry Cole. Monarch Insurance Company. Special investigator on claims.”

“Never heard of you. What do you want?”

“I want to give you a chance to earn a hundred grand. Ten percent of a million dollars. Plus ten grand in front.”

“What for?”

“Theft of a million in cut and uncut diamonds taken this evening from, a salesman registered at the Americana Hotel.”

“Call Robbery Detail. They have a couple of good men there — Dave Patterson and Smooth Wilson.”

“I already have. There’s more to it. The salesman was severely pistol-whipped. He died an hour ago.”

“Try Homicide. Lieutenant Thomas Elfmont. He hates killers.”

“I’ll do that later. What we want is to get the diamonds back. What do you say?”

“See me in my office in the morning. Ten o’clock.”

“Is it yes?”

“Okay — if you come before ten, Lucy Hamilton, my secretary, will give you a cup of coffee. If you need it, ask her to lace the coffee with some brandy.”

“Good. See you at ten.”

At nine o’clock that morning Harry Cole was in Chief Peter Painter’s office. The Chief of Police of Miami Beach was attentive.

“I’ve got the best man in my department working on the case for us, Mr. Cole. Tommy Elfmont — lieutenant in charge of the Homicide Division.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Nerves of carbonized steel. Knows the street, and every hood in town. Has a dog. A pit bull. The dog runs with Tommy every morning. Five miles. A vicious animal.

“That’s very interesting, Chief. But all my company is now interested in is recovery of a million dollars’ worth of diamonds. To that effort, we have engaged the services of Mike Shayne, the private detective.”

The statement made Chief Painter’s forehead veins bulge. He pounded the desk with a fist.

“I don’t like Shayne. He’s a meddler. He’s interfered in too many police cases, hindered our investigations.”

“Chief, we are aware of that,” Cole replied. “We are also aware that Mike Shayne has solved many of the cases in which he, as you say, interfered. Shayne is on the case and stays there. That’s our prerogative.”

“I don’t like it, dammit!” Chief Painter snapped. “If he so much as makes one move to interfere in this case and our investigation, I’ll have him in a cell.”

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, Chief,” Cole said. “The mayor has been told of our engaging Mike Shayne and has given his full approval.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chief Painter said. “I’m willing to cooperate. I said I would. Lieutenant Elfmont is certain to solve this case.”

“I hope so, but we will still have Mike Shayne on it. Those are orders from the top. I follow orders.”

Chief Painter sighed. “Of course, of course. Has to be that way. Chain of command. Very important.”

Harry Cole nodded and walked from the office.

Shortly before noon, Mike Shayne came into Chief Painter’s office.

“Good morning, Chief.”

Painter growled, a low, faint sound that could have come from a miniature poodle. “It was until you walked in.”

“Now, Chief, that’s no way to cure your ulcers. I’m here to help you.” Shayne realized he would probably need the Chief’s help.

Painter pointed a forefinger at Shayne. “You gave me my ulcers to begin with. And don’t use that damned patronizing tone, either. You’re not fooling me one bit, you understand, Shayne?”

“Sure, Chief, I had no intention of patronizing you. I want to work with you. I’ve been engaged by the Monarch Insurance Company to find the diamonds. That’s what I’m interested in, and I’m sure you are, too. If we don’t solve this robbery it will give the Beach a black eye. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

“The black eye is already there, Shayne. It’s you. Why don’t you leave town.”

“See, Chief, Now, who’s passing out ulcers?”

“Ulcers!” Painter shouted. “In your case, it would be a remedy.”

Shayne shook his red head. “That’s awfully unkind of you, Chief.”