1953 - I'll Bury My Dead by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

drawers and cupboards in the room. In a very short time Chuck had unearthed a packet of letters done up in blue ribbon which he handed to English, and then continued his search.
    English glanced through the letters, recognizing his brother’s handwriting. He had only to read two or three of them to know that Roy and Mary had been passionately in love with each other, and that Roy had been planning to leave Corrine and go away with Mary.
    With a wry grimace, he shoved the letters in his pocket as Chuck closed the last drawer.
    ‘That’s the lot in here, boss.’
    ‘Take a look in the other room,’ English said, and when Chuck left the bedroom he picked up the framed photograph of his brother and dropped it into his pocket.
    Five minutes later, English and Chuck left the apartment, went down the stairs and walked to the car.
    ‘The office, and snap it up,’ English said as he climbed to the car. ‘And keep your mouth shut about this, Chuck.’
    Chuck inclined his head, slid under the steering wheel and sent the Cadillac shooting down the road.
     

II
     
    T he intercom on English’s vast mahogany desk buzzed into life, and reaching forward, he pressed down the switch.
    ‘Mr. Crail is here, Mr. English,’ Lois told him.
    ‘Send him in, and when he’s gone, come in yourself,’ English said, and pushed back his chair.
    A moment later the door opened and Sam Crail came in.
    Crail was nearly as tall as English, and immensely fat. His hair was black and thick and smoothly oiled. His complexion was pallid and his eyes sharp and beady. His smooth, fat jowls were blue with constant shaving, and his pudgy hands were hairy, his nails immaculately manicured.
    Although his appearance wasn’t prepossessing, he was the smartest attorney in town, and had handled all English’s legal work ever since English had begun to climb.
    ‘Hello, Nick,’ he said as he pulled up a chair. ‘This is a bad business.’
    English grunted, pushed his cigar box across the desk and eyed Crail speculatively.
    ‘How’s Corrine?’ he asked abruptly.
    Crail grimaced. He selected a cigar, pierced it with a gold cigar pin, lit it and blew smoke to the ceiling.
    ‘She’s difficult, Nick, and she’s going to make trouble.’
    ‘No she isn’t,’ English said shortly. ‘What do you imagine you’re on my payroll for? It’s your job to stop her making trouble.’
    ‘What do you think I’ve been doing ever since I got there last night?’ Crail said a little heatedly. ‘But she won’t play. Her story is Roy is in debt. He came to you for money, and you threw him out.’
    English snorted.
    ‘He came to me for a loan six months ago,’ he said. ‘That’s not much of a story. Why didn’t he shoot himself sooner?’
    ‘She maintains he came to you the day before yesterday.’
    ‘Then she’s lying.’
    ‘Roy told her he came to you.’
    ‘Then he was lying.’
    Crail examined the cigar thoughtfully.
    ‘Might be difficult to prove, Nick. The press are only waiting for something to break. She says because you wouldn’t help him, he had to go to some of his old clients to raise the wind. One of them phoned the police. She says you told the police commissioner to withdraw Roy’s licence. With no future in front of him, he shot himself. Her story makes you directly responsible for his death.’
    English frowned.
    ‘Did Roy tell her this or is she making it up on her own initiative?’
    ‘She says Roy told her, and that’s the story she’s going to tell the coroner. The inquest’s in an hour, Nick.’
    ‘Yeah.’ English stood up and paced over to the window. ‘She doesn’t like me, does she?’
    ‘No, I guess she doesn’t. She says her life’s ruined, and she doesn’t see why yours shouldn’t be either.’
    ‘The fool! Why does she think my life would be ruined by a yarn like this?’ English said, turning from the window. ‘What put that idea into her empty head?’
    Crail shrugged.
    ‘It wouldn’t ruin you Nick, but it