Bring Back Her Body by Stuart Brock Read Free Book Online

grease, their pale hands restless. Cain could see the bulges made by their shoulder holsters even though their coats were made to conceal them.
    He said, “Hello, Munger.”
    “I figured you’d be back.”
    Cain stood where he had stopped, not nervous, not even irritated at the moment. He was only surprised that Munger had included himself in this visit. He usually called for people, not on them.
    “I came to turn out the light,” Cain said. “When you go, I’ll do it.”
    “Sit down, Cain. There’s plenty of time.”
    “Not for me. Check out.”
    Munger said to his men, “He wants to be rude.”
    “Smoky said, “Yeh.”
    The other one said, “Yeh.”
    Cain said, “Nuts. Let’s go home before I call the police and have you thrown out.”
    “Don’t be foolish, Cain. I came for a friendly chat.”
    “Like the one I had with your monkey here earlier tonight?”
    Munger smiled around his pipe. “Smoky isn’t very subtle; sorry.” He removed the pipe and stared at the bit. “Let’s put it this way, Cain. We can remove you with no one the wiser. Or work you over or …”
    “Or you can go to hell,” Cain finished for him. “You don’t dare, Munger, or you would have a long time ago.”
    “There’ll come a time,” Munger said.
    Cain moved across the room toward the telephone. Smoky lifted a hand toward his coat lapels. Cain said, “You do and I’ll slap your ugly teeth down your gullet with it.”
    Smoky snarled. Cain put a hand on the telephone. “Did you ever notice, Munger, that the intelligence level of the lower echelon hoodlum is barely above a moron? That goes for dope peddlers, pimps, prostitutes, and most persistent juvenile delinquents. It especially fits the little tough boys who play cops and robbers with their two-bit hardware. They’re animals with gifts of limited speech, that’s all. Doesn’t it bother you to have them around?”
    “They’re useful,” Munger said. His eyes were on Cain’s hand. “Don’t lift that phone, Cain. I won’t like it.”
    “All right,” Cain said amiably. “What do you like?”
    “You. I wish you were on my side.”
    “I don’t like your pets,” Cain said. “I don’t like their hairs all over my sofa. Next time you pay a social call, leave them in the kennels.”
    The other one snarled this time. Smoky licked his lips and looked hopefully at Munger. He said, “I came for a purpose.”
    “Tell me in ten seconds and then get out. I can’t wait all night.”
    “Tough guy, Rhumba,” Smoky said.
    “Yeh,” Rhumba said and spat on the carpet.
    Cain left the telephone and took two long strides, put out a hand and got a fistful of Rhumba’s coat front. Rhumba tried to reach past Cain’s fist for his gun and Cain slapped his hand down. He pulled and Rhumba came up swinging. Cain let loose of the coat and grabbed an arm and moved it into a hammerlock. Rhumba began to curse in a shrill voice. Munger lifted a hand, holding Smoky back. His gray eyes were interested.
    Rhumba’s curses turned to gasps as the pain of the hammerlock forced him to his knees. He fought against the pressure, sweat coming out on his forehead, but slowly his knees bent and he was driven down until he was kneeling. Cain’s big hands and long arms applied more leverage, making Rhumba’s trunk arch. Finally it gave and he slumped. Cain took one hand and put it to the back of Rhumba’s head and pushed.
    “Wipe it up!”
    Rhumba’s neck was stiff, the cords standing out rigidly, but he couldn’t hold his position and his face went down to the spot where the spittle lay on the rug. Cain moved his head back and forth as if it were a rag. Then he released Rhumba and stood up.
    “You should housebreak them better, Munger.”
    Rhumba got to his feet, holding his arm. Foam flecked the corners of his mouth. Munger said, “A gentleman doesn’t spit on his host’s rug.” Rhumba cursed vividly and Munger lifted a heavy shoe, driving it lightly into his groin. He doubled up,