The Uncomplaining Corpses by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online

Herald?”
    “They’re going to look like hell,” Shayne admitted. He frowned down at the dead woman, then around at Joe Darnell.
    “Have you gone over Joe?” he asked suddenly.
    “Of course.”
    “Was he armed?”
    “No, but—”
    “How much money did he have on him?”
    “Three or four dollars. If you think you can talk your way out of this—”
    “Stop your yapping,” Shayne snapped without looking at Painter. He started forward and the detectives subconsciously relaxed their hold on his arms. Painter trotted after him as he strode into the dressing-room and moved from one piece of furniture to another, his gaze searching everywhere for the jewel case which Thrip had described to him. It was nowhere in sight.
    Behind him Painter panted venomously, “My men have been over everything. There’s not the slightest question—”
    Shayne stopped him with a savage gesture. “You’ve never been able to see anything that wasn’t under your nose. Something stinks around here. Even you should be able to smell it.”
    “There’s a stink all right but nothing to compare with the stench that’s going to be raised tomorrow when the story comes out.” There was gloating triumph in Painter’s voice.
    “I want to see Thrip ,” Shayne cut in.
    “He’s suffering from shock. His physician has ordered him to remain undisturbed at least the rest of the night.”
    “ Yeh ,” Shayne muttered, “murder is an unnerving business. What about the rest of the family—the servants? I’ve got to find out—”
    “I’ve questioned all the family and the servants as a matter of routine and there isn’t the slightest doubt that the affair happened just as I outlined it to you.”
    “That’s what you say,” Shayne growled. “It’s what you want to think. It solved everything neatly—even to putting me out of your hair. I’m not taking this lying down.”
    “But you’ll take it, Shayne. I’ve warned you time and again that you can’t play with fire and not be burned.”
    Shayne turned his back on the dapper detective chief. There was a stir in the hallway outside, the babble of voices. The newshounds had arrived.
    Shayne shouldered his way through them as they came trooping in. They shot questions in his direction and he answered them with a jerk of his head toward Peter Painter, who was waiting to be interviewed.
    Outside the death chamber Shayne stood in the wide hallway looking down the length of it. The policeman whom he had seen pushing the young man across the hall now stood guard outside a closed door on the opposite side about halfway down.
    The guard scowled and planted himself solidly in front of the door as Shayne approached.
    “Can’t nobody go in here,” the man said. “Chief’s orders.”
    “Your chief’s orders don’t apply to me,” Shayne told him. “These people are my clients and I have a right to see them.”
    “Your clients, eh? Bad luck that is for them. The lady in the bedroom yonder—she was your client too, I’m told.”
    Shayne said, “This is going to be tougher on you than on me,” without rancor.
    His knotted fist came up smoothly and without warning from his side. It struck the cop’s jaw solidly with all of Shayne’s hundred and ninety pounds behind it. The man in uniform went down with a surprised look on his face.
    He stayed down without moving.
    Shayne glanced around swiftly to see that he was unobserved, then dragged the policeman up to a slumped sitting position against the wall, opened the door silently, and went inside.

Chapter Five: THREE UNPLEASANT PEOPLE
     
    WHEN SHAYNE CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HIM, shutting out the hall light, he blinked at the dimness, waited a moment for his eyes to adjust themselves to the faint light cast by a pine log crackling on andirons in a tiled fireplace across the room.
    It was a large sitting-room, he soon perceived, with French windows along one side and with open doors leading into bedrooms from two sides. He thought for a