The Corpse Came Calling Read Online Free PDF

first sensible remark I’ve heard since walking in here.” He got up and went to the cabinet for a glass, glancing over his shoulder at Painter, who remained stiffly erect in the center of the floor. “Are you joining us menfolks in a snifter?”
    Painter said, “You know I never drink while on duty.”
    “Yeh,” Shayne mused, “you always were hell on duty.” He went to the table and picked up the bottle of cognac, poured himself and Gentry a drink.
    Gentry accepted the glass with a nod and lowered his bulky frame into a deep chair. Shayne went back to sit beside Phyllis. Painter remained obdurately standing.
    “If you boys,” said Gentry, “would forget you hate each other we might be able to straighten this thing out.”
    Shayne said, “Look, Will. Is it my fault that a guy whom I haven’t seen for ten years gets a sudden yen to look me up? Can I help it if he gets bumped on his way to my office and just makes it to the door before he falls flat?”
    “But why?” snapped Painter. “If that is what happened, why was it so desperately necessary that someone prevent him from reaching you? You were cooking up something together. He was another fly-cop like yourself.”
    Shayne turned his glass around in his big hands, regarding it morosely. He spoke to Gentry without lifting his head.
    “I don’t know any more about those things than you do, but I intend to find out. Hell,” he went on irritably, “do you think I like the idea of a man being killed while he’s on his way to my office? It’s lousy publicity. And by the way, can we keep this thing out of the papers until I have a chance to check some angles?”
    Gentry began, “I’ll see what I can do—”
    But Painter took a step forward to interrupt. “It’s too late for that. A News reporter came up with us. He dashed out with the story to make the final edition. It’s probably on the street now.”
    Shayne nodded. “With Painter’s name in headlines. All right, you have to do something once in a while to kid the City Fathers into thinking you’re earning your keep.”
    Gentry said wearily, “You just can’t lay off riding him, can you, Mike?”
    “Why should I? He rides me every chance he gets. That’s not so bad. I can take it. But I don’t like him starting on my wife, too.”
    “I haven’t been riding her.” Painter’s voice became almost shrill with anger. “I simply said—”
    “That she was lying about our visitor,” Shayne cut him off.
    “You heard the doctor’s opinion.”
    “Yes and, by God, you heard Phyllis’s story.” Shayne swung to his feet.
    Painter faced him with equal anger. “Don’t bluster at me, Shayne. This isn’t a local matter, you know. Our country is at war and if your friend Lacy was mixed up in some scheme that interests the federal authorities, you had better give us any information in your possession.”
    Shayne grinned infuriatingly. “So you’re going to sick Mr. Hoover’s boys on my trail? All right. I’ll do my talking to them, Painter. Drop back in to see me when you have a couple of special agents to back you up. In the meantime, get out. I’m tired of restraining myself and I’m sick of listening to you.”
    He swung toward Gentry. “And for you, Will, I’ll give you this. I did know Jim Lacy ten years ago in New York. I haven’t seen him since—until I looked at him lying dead here in my office. I haven’t heard from him nor of him—until Phyllis received the telephone call while I was out. I don’t know why he wanted to see me today—nor who didn’t want him to see me.”
    “Be sure you’re not holding out anything, Mike,” Gentry advised. “No fast stuff on this one. If the FBI is interested it must be too hot to handle locally. With the nation at war, the public isn’t going to stand for any monkey business along that line.”
    Shayne shrugged. He said, “I’ve always been able to take care of myself.”
    “Yeh.” Gentry got up, setting his empty glass down.