The Body Looks Familiar by Richard Wormser Read Free Book Online Page B

said Police Cars Only, and parked in one of the four stalls reserved for the district attorney’s office. This put him right next to the press parking, and so he ran into Harry Weber of the News-Journal just coming out of the back entrance of the jail, lighting a cigarette and looking pleased.
    The press was important; Dave Corday said, “Hi, Harry! How’s it going?”
    “Dandy, Mr. Corday. Just fine.”
    “You were with Cap Martin when they brought in Ralph Guild, weren’t you?” He watched, and he thought Harry Weber’s face changed; but the reporter didn’t ask him for a statement. Corday gave it anyway: “We’re going to hang that man, Harry.”
    This brought a reaction. Harry Weber reached for the folded copy paper and the pencil: “Any developments, D.A.?”
    “We have found the murder weapon.”
    The reporter scribbled something without taking his eyes off Corday’s face. “Where?”
    “In a manhole on Fifth Street.”
    Weber said, “And it ties in with Ralph Guild?”
    Corday cleared his throat and hated himself for doing it. It sounded like an old-time, Phogbound type of politician. “It is a Skoda, which is a Czecho-Slovakian make. Guild has confessed to being a Czech.”
    “Want to give me a statement on that? If the gun had been a Luger, the murderer would have been German; Webley, English; Colt, a horse?”
    Dave Corday felt his face reddening. “Of course I won’t give you any statement like that!”
    Another car was pulling into the courtyard. Out of the corner of his eye, Dave Corday saw with relief that it was Jim Latson’s car. He needed reinforcements badly.
    Harry Weber said, “Well, then, how about a statement that the gun doesn’t tie into Ralph Guild at all.”
    “He’s a Czech!” Corday said.
    “Which is of what significance in this case?”
    “The gun is Czech, too. Surely—”
    “Czech, Spanish, and Belgian pistols are the rule down on Skid Row,” Harry said. “Because they’re cheap.”
    Corday’s temper slipped. He had been told in law school that that was the one thing no lawyer should ever indulge himself in: uncontrolled and uncalculated anger. “Young man, you can’t badger me!”
    Jim Latson, followed by his patrolman-secretary, had ambled up. “Sounds like he’s doing it, Dave, old boy. Hi, Harry. Getting plenty?”
    Harry Weber’s face lost that taunting grin. “Hello, Chief.”
    And there it was again. Dave Corday was entitled to be called Chief, but no one ever gave him the courtesy; after all, he was Chief Deputy of the District Attorney’s office. It was a job calling for education, experience, tact, brains. Really, he rated higher than anybody in the police department; but no one ever thought so. The minute Latson appeared any place, any time, everyone turned to him. But a district attorney rated much higher.
    “I’m just trying to get a howgozit on the Guild case,” Harry said.
    Jim Latson said at once, “The District Attorney’s office is well satisfied that the department was justified in arresting Ralph Guild; but, mindful of his oath to protect the innocent as well as prosecute the guilty, Chief Deputy David Corday is not yet prepared to say that the evidence against Ralph Guild is complete.”
    “You know I can’t turn that in, Chief,” Harry Weber said. “If I phoned that to the desk, they’d take the dime for the phone call out of my pay.”
    “Okay,” Jim Latson said. “That’s what you get for heckling the D.A.’s office. If you’d been a good boy, you might have picked up a story. Come on, Dave.” And somehow he managed to leave Harry Weber unsatisfied but not angry. It was a pretty good trick.

 
Chapter 9
     
    THE INTERVIEW ROOM AT THE JAIL was sunny; but that was about all that could be said for it. The furniture consisted of four straight chairs and a swivel chair, all bolted to the floor; the single table had no drawers because a man could whip out a desk drawer and bean a district attorney.
    Jim Latson had had