Dead Seed by William Campbell Gault Read Free Book Online Page A

novice Corey Raleigh. And the even more sobering thought followed that they had earned their money; I had inherited mine.
    We had a diet lunch and went out for our Saturday afternoon run. I had been exercising a lot more than Jan, but she was no more bushed than I was when we finished.
    “It’s your weight,” she explained to me. “You’re overweight. I’m not.”
    She went to the shower. I went to the den and put down on a sheet of graph paper the names of all the characters I had met since Carol and Grange had left town, plus one I hadn’t met, Carl Lacrosse.
    I drew lines to connect the obvious and lines to cross-connect the less obvious trying to find a pattern. None emerged. The main characters were on the road, carrying their secret with them.
    It didn’t make sense that an angry former maid would come all the way from Arizona on a peeve because she had been fired. There had to be another reason. It has to be a long time ago, before she had married Lacrosse and had her child. Carol was obviously lying.
    And Carol had obviously run. Why? With the insulation of her wealth, the expensive attorneys she could hire—why? She was a butterfly but not a nitwit.
    I was still checking the cast of characters when Mrs. Casey came to tell me one of them was on the phone. It was Sarkissian.
    He said, “Don’t bother to come up again, Mr. Callahan. Joel has told me he has no Tryden relatives. He saw you leave here yesterday and he saw your name on the mailbox of the house next to the Medfords’.”
    “He also lied about being related to Carl.”
    “That was before he learned to trust me. I have to assume that you are working for Dwight Kelly.”
    “Not yet,” I said. “Give my regards to your father.” I hung up.
    Dwight Kelly was another character I hadn’t met. If I could get to him when Mrs. Lacrosse wasn’t around, maybe I could be Lester Tryden again. It was a role that needed further polishing.
    I phoned the “office” number Corey had given me. There was no answer. I phoned his house and his father answered. He told me that Corey had driven his mother to the grocery store; they should be home soon.
    “I’m glad you are taking an interest in my boy, Mr. Callahan,” he said. “He worries me. I sometimes think he is about six or seven cards short of a full deck.”
    “He’s young,” I said, “but a pretty solid young man if we judge by today’s standards.”
    “That’s not saying much. I’ll have him call you.”
    When Corey phoned, I told him about the call from Sarkissian.
    “You blew your cover?” he asked.
    “Watch your tongue, kid. I wanted to warn you not to use my name up there if you get in.”
    “I didn’t plan to. And I’m already in. I start working there on Monday.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Washing dishes. I’m not proud.”
    “We can’t afford to be in our business. And even they have to pay you the minimum. Good work!”
    “You blew your cover?” he said again. “I can’t believe it!”
    “It happens,” I said sternly. “Be damned sure you don’t. You’re not using your own name, are you? Remember, you’re in the phone book.”
    “I had to use my right name,” he explained, “so I wouldn’t get cheated out of my Social Security some day. And my phone number hasn’t been listed yet. I’m safe.”
    “Your phone number isn’t listed? How did Mrs. Lacrosse get it?”
    Silence on the wire.
    “Come on, Corey!”
    “I consider that privileged information, Mr. Callahan.”
    “I’m waiting.”
    “All right! There’s a cop down at the station that I know. He’s the same cop who steered me to the job at that TV store. But you’re not going to get his name from me, so don’t try.”
    I had another tentative line to draw among the less obvious connections, from Corey to the crooked cop. It would intersect the line from the crooked cop to Kelly.
    “Okay, peeper,” I said. “It’s your neck.”
    I phoned Vogel to give him this tidbit. His son answered. He told