Pay-Off in Blood by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online

husband?”
    “This morning. When he left for the office.” She shut her eyes tightly and two big tears squeezed through under the lids.
    “Did you hear from him during the day?”
    She nodded violently without opening her eyes. “His nurse telephoned about four o’clock to say Doctor was tied up and wouldn’t be home for dinner. She said not to expect him until some time late this evening.”
    “Was this… unusual?”
    “Not so very,” she faltered. “He was a doctor, you know. And this morning he said, well… that something might come up to detain him tonight and I shouldn’t plan anything fancy for dinner.”
    “What sort of thing, Mrs. Ambrose?”
    She hesitated and tightened her plump lips and then opened her eyes wide and said, “It was those gamblers. I know it was. I knew it all the time. They killed him. He couldn’t get enough money for them and so they killed him. Oh God, what am I going to do now?” She turned her head to the police doctor and implored in a trembling voice, “Couldn’t I please have just a tiny drop of something for my nerves? I’m going to pieces. I know I am.” Her voice rose thinly. “Don’t just stand there looking so supercilious. I know what I need. What do you know about it? Is your husband lying out there in the yard murdered by gangsters?”
    Painter glanced at the doctor who shook his head slightly, and told her cheerfully, “I’ve administered a sedative, Mrs. Ambrose. It will begin to take effect in about five or ten minutes and you’ll be fine. Please try to answer Chief Painter’s questions in the meantime.”
    Painter asked, “What’s this about gamblers?”
    “They were after him… hounding him all the time for money. He’s always gambled. It was a sort of compulsion with him. On the horses, you know. He confessed to me the first year we were married, and I forgave him. He was lucky and often won as much as he lost. Sometimes he was real lucky and we’d go out for a big splurge. But lately it’s been different. He was unlucky, and I’m afraid he started plunging. Just a month or so ago he told me he was in too deep. He said they were pressing him, and he broke down and cried like a baby with his head in my lap and said he was afraid they’d do something to him, if he didn’t pay up. And he promised he’d never bet on the horses again, if I’d help him this time, and I signed all the papers. You know. Insurance and on the house and all.
    “And I thought it was enough and everything would be all right again and just the same as before, but I could see he was worried again, the last few days, and it frightened me and I wondered. And now… oh God!” She put the backs of both her hands up against her mouth and her wide blue eyes were anguished as they looked up at the chief of detectives.
    “He didn’t say anything about this this morning?” asked Painter patiently.
    “He didn’t have to. I could tell. You can’t be married to a man for twenty-two years without having an intuition. And when Nurse called this afternoon I had a premonition.”
    “Is that why you hit the bottle of vodka so hard that you passed out and didn’t even know when he came home… didn’t even hear the shot that killed him?” asked Painter, folding his arms and thrusting his chin forward.
    “Now I like that! Why, you, you… No gentleman would make an insinuation like that to a lady. I was worried and frightened, and I took a little sip of spirits, and it relaxed me and I took a nap. That is absolutely all.”
    “Dr. Cross,” said Painter flatly, “tells me you had the better part of a quart of ninety-proof vodka in your stomach when he found you passed out in the bedroom half an hour ago.”
    “Of all the insolent lies!” She turned her head and looked at the doctor like a little girl reproving a parent. “Don’t you realize I could sue you for slander and libel for making such a gratuitously untrue statement? What sort of doctor are you, anyway? I