Dead Seed Read Online Free PDF Page B

the extra money.”
    “To hell with the money. I just like to know I’m appreciated.”

FIVE
    I T WAS HARD FOR ME to believe that the dashing hero of my youthful dreams, the man who did his own stunts, would run from trouble. It had to be Carol he was protecting. When the showdown came, I was sure, he would unsheathe his sword of destiny and protect his princess.
    Showdown. Why had that word almost triggered some dim memory in me? It had almost reached the surface of recognition—before fading.
    There was no place to go but home. I went there. A dusty Plymouth two-door sedan was parked where the van had been parked before; I didn’t recognize the car, but I knew the youth behind the wheel.
    He had come to me a year ago for advice. A few months later, when he was twenty-one, I had helped him get his investigator’s license. It was Corey Raleigh, the boy detective, a tall, gangly kid.
    I went in to tell Mrs. Casey I’d already had lunch and then went down to the Plymouth. “What are you doing here?” I asked him.
    “You know better than to ask that, Mr. Callahan,” he said stiffly.
    I opened the door on the curb side and slid in next to him. “Didn’t I tell you to stick with insurance claims and credit checks? Why this Sam Spade bit?”
    Nothing from him. He didn’t look at me, staring rigidly ahead.
    “Are you waiting for Miss Medford to come home?”
    “Don’t ask,” he said.
    I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the Sheriff’s car pulling up behind us. I said, “Okay, Corey. If you won’t answer my questions, get ready for his.” I reached for the door handle.
    He looked in the mirror. His voice was shaky. “Don’t go. Stay! Please?”
    “All right. Let me handle it. You’re too young to start lying.”
    The same young deputy who had questioned me came to Corey’s side of the car and looked down at us. “Well—!” he said.
    “Something wrong, officer?” I asked him.
    “We got a call from next door again,” he told me.
    “From Charles?”
    “Who’s Charles?”
    “The butler. Corey came here to talk with me.”
    “Is that so?” To Corey, he said, “Could I see your driver’s license, please?”
    “He wasn’t speeding,” I said. “I can attest to that.”
    The young deputy glared at me, his jaw muscles rigid. Corey handed him the license. The officer glanced at it and handed it back. “Have you known Mr. Callahan long?” he said.
    “That,” I said, “is none of your business.”
    He said harshly, “I was talking to him.”
    I took a deep breath and said evenly, “If you want to run us down to the station and book us, we’ll go. We will answer no more questions. And I resent very much this invasion of our privacy.”
    There was a long silence while we glared at each other like a pair of adolescent nitwits. Then he said, “We got a call. I answered it. We answer all calls. I don’t relish, being lectured on invasion of privacy by a man who made his living by invading privacy.”
    “And I don’t relish being slandered,” I told him. “I’ll go in and phone my attorney and we can all go down to the station together. Mr. Raleigh will be my witness for the slander charge. I’ll be right back.” I opened the door and started to get out.
    He said tonelessly, “There’s no need for that. As I said, we answer all calls. I—apologize for the remark.”
    He went back to the car and drove away.
    “Man!” Corey said. “You are one great liar!”
    “You’ll learn the art, and so will he. Have you had lunch?”
    He nodded. “I brought a couple of sandwiches. This could shape up as a long stakeout.”
    “You should have brought a tent and a week’s supply of groceries. Come in the house and we’ll have a beer. You can still watch the Medford driveway from there.”
    We sat on the patio where we had a view of the driveway and sipped our beers. “What are you charging these days?” I asked him.
    “Three dollars and twenty cents an hour,” he told me. “That’s the