All Chickens Must Die: A Benjamin Wade Mystery Read Online Free PDF

busy to light it.
    “How’s it going?” I sat in the chair next to his desk.
    Gardner looked up and took a puff on his cigarette. He frowned at
the non-smoke, then took it out of his mouth and looked at it like it was some
sort of defective machine. I flicked my Zippo and held the flame at the ready
for him to light up. He did, then leaned back in his chair.
    “How’s it going, Wade? It’s going blazes. The damn Nazis are
invading western Europe, Norway’s being lost by the Brits and the Frogs. The
Nazis already invaded Belgium, Holland, Luxembourg, and France.” He puffed and
blew smoke out of his nose. “But the French should stop Hitler. It’s what they
got the Maginot line for, right? We got news reports coming in from all over.
We’re just trying to compile and get a handle on’em.”
    “So, not much. Anything local?”
    “War coverage edges out lots of local news. We still have cow
reports and the weather and whatever the governor is doing, but not much else.
And, to top it all off, I get to sit on my ass and report about bigwigs and
their damn parties. You know how infuriating it is to sit over here while
everyone out there”—he gestured to the news room at large—”gets to cover real
events?”
    “You get to work with Lucy. Isn’t that a nice reward?”
    A smile cracked his face. “Yes, that is extremely nice. I’ve been
to more highfalutin’ parties since I got this assignment than the rest of my
life put together. Having her on my arm, even in a professional context, is
well worth it. But you didn’t come here to chitchat about who’s who. Why are
you here?”
    “I was wondering if your paper covered something from last week.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you read my paper?”
    “Every day.”
    “Then you should know if whatever you’re asking was in the
paper.”
    “But that’s the thing: I don’t memorize everything I read, and I
only got a new case this morning. Two actually.”
    Gardner sat up straighter. He enjoyed hearing the details of my
cases. It helped him when he moonlighted as a writer of pulp stories. “Tell
me.”
    “I got hired by a farmer to look into why the animal health
department has scheduled his entire flock to be slaughtered.”
    Part of his enthusiasm vanished. “Really?”
    “Really. But there’s more.”
    “Hope so. Otherwise, you got the short end of the curiosity
stick.”
    “Nice. The same night, there was some sort of police chase. The
farmer, my client, says he saw the cops storm through his land looking for some
sort of fugitive.”
    Gardner rubbed his hands together. “Now, we’re talking. What’d
this fugitive do?”
    I held out my hands and shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. Figured
I’d get the real story first before I head over to HPD for the official police
report.”
    Gardner stood and slapped me on the back. “See, you’re finally
thinking correctly. Not like you used to when you were a cop.”
    I shrugged again. “Who does your police beat?”
    “Lorenzo Barr. He’s a cub reporter, wet behind the ears, but he’s
got a knack for reading between the official lines.”
    “He here?”
    “Let’s go see him.”
     
    Lorenzo Barr was that squirrelly type of man who was too small in
stature to match his likely vivid imagination. Around his desk were photos, cut
from magazines and newspapers, of boxing greats, handsome actors, and the like.
One look at Barr and you saw why he favored the arch-typical example of
masculinity. I wasn’t one, either, but I think I had Barr beat.
    Barr was small and thin. He looked like he might break if a
hurricane blew through town. Check that. A decent gale might do the trick. He
styled his hair in the latest fashion made famous by Hollywood’s leading men,
but the puffy top of his head wafted in the breeze of the nearby fan.
    He stood when Gardner and I approached. My friend made introductions.
I gripped Barr’s little hand. “Wade here is a bona fide PI.”
    Barr’s eyes widened in