Murder Is My Business by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online

“Are you?”
    Lance Bayliss shook his head. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted the glass to his lips. He murmured sardonically, “To older and happier days.”
    Shayne sat down abruptly in the chair Carmela had occupied. He indicated another chair and asked, “What have you been doing with yourself?”
    “Nothing important. Bumming around here and there.”
    “Writing any poetry?”
    “Hardly.” Lance balanced his glass on his knee and watched it carefully, as though he feared it might disappear from his hand if he didn’t keep his eyes fixed on it.
    “Too busy writing propaganda for the Third Reich?” Shayne purposely made his voice harsh.
    Lance Bayliss wet his lips. He didn’t look up. “So you know about that?”
    “Carmela Towne told me.”
    He winced at the sound of her name. “It was a dirty business,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think anything mattered during those years. I was being very cynical and disillusioned. The war woke me up.” He lifted his eyes to Shayne’s momentarily. “You’ve got to believe me,” he said strongly. “I pulled out of it when Hitler marched into Poland.”
    “Since then?”
    Lance shrugged. “Dodging the Gestapo mostly. I got to Mexico finally and ghosted a book there.”
    “What sort of a book?”
    “Dictators I Have Known.”
    Shayne jerked to closer attention. “That was by the war correspondent Douglas Gershon.”
    “His name was signed to it,” Lance admitted wryly. “I understand it sold well.”
    “It caused a lot of controversy. Half the people who read it found it pro-Fascist.”
    “It wasn’t at all,” Lance protested. “People felt that merely because it represented the dictators as human beings. They are human, and all the more despicable because of that. Hell, the book was banned in Germany and all the occupied countries.” His grayish-blue eyes flashed fire at Shayne, then flickered away.
    “Which might have been smart propaganda to get it more widely read over here,” Shayne pointed out.
    Lance Bayliss sighed and finished his drink. He set the empty glass down and said, “I can’t prove it, but I’mon the Gestapo blacklist for having ghosted the book. I had to get out of Mexico in a hurry. You know what happened to Douglas Gershon,” he ended hoarsely.
    “Had some sort of accident in New York, didn’t he?”
    “They called it an accident. Gershon was murdered. I happen to know the Gestapo got him.”
    Shayne shrugged his indifference to the incident and said in a friendly tone, “What are you doing in El Paso, Lance?”
    “Gathering material for a new book on Gestapo activities in this country.” Lance’s voice became animated and he looked squarely at Shayne. “It will include the true dope on some of our native Fascists who are either consciously or unconsciously collaborating.”
    “Isn’t it dangerous?”
    “I’ve lived with danger so much the last few years,” Lance said slowly, “it’s lost its impact.”
    Shayne took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them to Lance, who accepted avidly. Thumbnailing a match, Shayne lit both of them, spun the matchstick across the room, and asked, “Did you just drop in here to see me for old times’ sake, or was there something in particular?”
    “I wanted to see what kind of man you’d turned into,” Lance told him coolly. “Your championship of Jefferson Towne intrigues me.”
    “He’d make El Paso a good mayor.”
    Lance Bayliss uttered an angry exclamation, and rose to stride up and down the hotel room. His words came in a rush: “That’s typical of this country’s smug way of thinking. Towne is a menace to the communityand to America. He has the true Leader complex. Damn it, Shayne, don’t you realize he sees himself as the Man-on-Horseback? The mayoralty of El Paso first. That’s a stepping stone. A springboard to launch him into state and national politics. He’s as dangerous as a Hitler. And you’re helping him get elected by clearing him in a