1977 - My Laugh Comes Last by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online

hear nothing further from me.’
    It was just possible I would hear nothing further from him, but he had only to put an anonymous telephone call through to the Sheriff to fix me.
    A service?
    What did that mean? By now I was in such a turmoil, I didn't care, "Wait,' I said feverishly. I had to get rid of the body! I had to have his help! Once rid of the body, I would be in a better position to deal with this man. Once I knew what service he wanted, I would be able to think of a way to outwit him. I had to have time to think!
    He paused at the door and looked at me.
    'I agree. I need your help,' I said, my voice husky.
    'Very wise, Mr. Lucas.' He moved back to his chair and sat down. 'I have three trustworthy men who will handle it for you, but you must go with them. You must see what they intend to do so you are convinced that, once buried, the body will never be discovered. If you will go down to the garage, you will find them waiting. The whole operation can be over in an hour or so. I suggest you go now. The longer you wait, the more difficult the operation.'
    I stared at him.
    'And when do you pick up the price tag?'
    'There's plenty of time for that. Let us get this problem solved first. Go along, Mr. Lucas.' He glanced at his strap watch. 'I am already late for an appointment.'
    Bracing myself, I left him and rode down in the elevator to the garage. The time now was 10.15: still a safe hour. The people who lived in my complex seldom stirred into life on Sunday before midday.
    As I came out of the elevator, I saw them, standing by my car.
    Three men.
    As I approached them, I looked searchingly at them.
    The man who caught my attention was leaning against the driver's door. He was tall, lean, around twenty-five years of age. He had blond hair and a beard. He had minor movie star good looks. His eyes, exuding a cocky confidence, were sky blue. He looked, from his heavy tan, as if he spent days idling in the sun, most certainly ogling the girls. He had on a green singlet and tight white jeans.
    The second man was standing at the head of the car. He was built like a bar bouncer: dark, hairy, a flat face, little eyes and long black sideboards. As a muscle man for a B movie he was perfect. He wore a shabby leather windcheater and black slacks.
    The third man was a Negro. He was so tall, he was resting his elbows on the roof of the car. His massive shoulder muscles rippled under a white T-shirt. He reminded me of Joe Louis, when in his prime.
    The bearded man came forward with a cocky, cheerful grin.
    'I'm Harry, Mr. Lucas,' he said. 'That's Benny,' he jerked his thumb at die second man. 'And that's Joe.'
    The Negro's face split into a dazzling grin, but the man called Benny just stared sullenly at me.
    Benny! The man who had hit me over the head!
    'Let's go, Mr. Lucas,' Harry said. 'I'll drive. You just take it easy.'
    The other two got into the back seats while Harry went around and opened the passenger's door for me. I wasn't fooled for one moment by this politeness. I felt the menace of these three men as one feels the oppressive atmosphere of an approaching thunderstorm.
    I got in the car. Harry went around and slid under the driving wheel and drove the car up the ramp and on to Sharnville's main street.
    Church bells were ringing and people were on the move.
    Harry swung the car down a side street, and keeping to the side streets, he headed for the highway. He drove just below the speed limit and drove well.
    Joe, sitting behind me, began to play a harmonica. The tune he produced was sad and forlorn. It could have been a Negro spiritual.
    As we headed towards Ferris Point, my mind was busy.
    I had an instinctive idea that Benny, after knocking me over the head, had been the one who had murdered Marsh. He had that sullen, brutal look of a man who would kill without thought or feeling. My head still ached, and my face hurt me. My mind wasn't clear enough yet to form a complete ' picture of what was happening to me. I felt as