The Uncomplaining Corpses Read Online Free PDF

Dorothy—our daughter—brought him to our home one evening and introduced him to her father and me. He’s living at the Palace Hotel on the beach.”
    Mrs. Thrip rested her head on the back of the gold chair as if her story was finished. Shayne emptied his cup of cognac and looked into her tortured eyes. Phyllis got up quietly, turned the light up, and brought the bottle of cognac from the bar. She refilled Michael’s cup. Leora Thrip was staring out the window, her hands folded in her lap.
    “A remarkable story,” Shayne said. “You were braver than any woman I know to have told it, Mrs. Thrip .”
    “It was necessary to make you understand,” she said quietly. She straightened, caressed her purse with the palm of her hand. “But there’s more. Dorothy—that’s Arnold’s daughter—is twenty-five years old. I don’t understand her, though I’ve tried since Arnold and I were first married. How does a trapped animal feel? I was trapped. I’m not sure that Carl knew I was Dorothy’s stepmother before he met me at the house. He hadn’t known me as Mrs. Thrip in Atlantic City. But I think he knew. I think he had found out who I was and deliberately set himself to get his hands on Dorothy. You see, Carl hated me too, in the end, because I refused to be compromised and give him an advantage over me—and my money.
    “Even though Dorothy has always hated me, I tried to save her from herself—and from Carl Meldrum. I warned her against him, telling her, of course, that my knowledge of his character had come to me indirectly. She—told me I was an old fool with sex repressions and had better read Freud.
    “I decided to have it out with Carl. I begged him to leave Dorothy alone. He laughed at me and hinted that he might be persuaded to do so—for a price. I don’t know what he has told Dorothy about me. I’m sure he has told her something—probably a distorted account of our former meeting.
    “Then the letters began coming. The letters my husband told you about this afternoon. Their vague hints were not clear enough to tell him what actually lay behind them, but I knew at once they were from Carl.
    “Arnold wanted me to pay the money demanded in the letters. When I refused he was inclined to scoff at the entire matter. But I think he has become suspicious lately that there is more than he first thought. Perhaps Dorothy has told him something. I don’t know. I don’t know how much Dorothy knows. I don’t know how much my husband suspects.” She made a quick gesture of despair with her hands, clasped them together tightly.
    “I am deathly afraid Carl will carry out the threats in the letters. He is subject to violent moods—and three nights ago I heard him stop outside my door as he went away from Dorothy’s room. He stood there a long time—then went away.” The high note of hysteria in her voice broke off suddenly. She was staring down at her empty teacup.
    Phyllis refilled it without saying a word. Mrs. Thrip murmured, “Thank you,” and raised the cup to her lips.
    Shayne frowned, marveling at the stuff some women are made of. After her long recital she was sipping tea as though she enjoyed it, as though she had come for nothing more important! He took a gulp of cognac from his own cup and asked, “Did Carl Meldrum really love you in the beginning?”
    “I think he did. I—am afraid he still wants me, in one way anyhow—perhaps because I refused what he wanted most.” Red came up in her cheeks, but she looked at Shayne levelly.
    “Yet you think you’re in danger from him?”
    “Yes. Oh, yes, I’m sure of it. You don’t know Carl Meldrum, Mr. Shayne. You wouldn’t understand him. No normal man could. He has a twisted mind. He would enjoy hurting the person he loves. You can see the daily torment I live in—and I know it is a source of exquisite pleasure for him to see me writhe when he looks at me with that smile of secrecy in the presence of my family. I must have help, Mr. Shayne.