I'll Bury My Dead. James Hadley Chase
desk. He tossed the packet of letters into Crail’s lap.
“There’s all the proof. If Corrine thinks she can mess up my pitch by telling a snivelling yarn like this, she’s got another think coming. Tell her to toe the line or this muck goes to the press.”
Crail paused long enough to read two or three of the letters, then he put them in his briefcase, together with the photograph.
“This is going to be a shock to her, Nick,” he said slowly. “She was crazy about Roy.”
English regarded him, his eyes hard.
“She doesn’t have to know. That’s up to you. Persuade her to toe the line if you’re all that anxious to spare her feelings.”
“I guess she’ll have to see these letters,” Crail said. “All the same I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to do the job,” English said. “I can always get another attorney, Sam.”
Crail shrugged his fat shoulders.
“Oh, I’ll do it,” he said. “I wouldn’t like to be as hard as you are, Nick.”
“Let’s skip the sentiment. Did Roy leave a will?”
“Yes. He left everything to Corrine. As far as I can see it amounts to a flock of debts. He had a safe deposit, and I hold the key. I haven’t had time to examine it, but I don’t reckon to find anything in it.”
“Let me know how his estate stands before you tell Corrine,” English said. “We could arrange to find an insurance policy in his safe deposit. Fix it that she has a couple of hundred bucks a week for life. I’ll pay.”
Crail grinned.
“Who’s going soft now?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“Get over to the coroner’s office,” English said curtly, “and make that story stand up.”
“I’ll make it stand up,” Crail said, nodded and crossed the room to the door. “I’ll call you as soon as it’s over.”
III
A minute or so after Crail had gone, Lois left her desk, crossed the room to English’s office door and tapped as she opened it.
English was staring at his cigar with cold, brooding eyes. He looked up and gave her a little nod.
“Come on in and sit down,” he said, and hunched his massive shoulders as he leaned across the desk. “What time did you get to bed this morning?”
Lois smiled as she pulled up a chair to the desk and sat down.
“It was after four, but I don’t need much sleep.”
“Nonsense. Of course you do. Go home after lunch and go to bed.”
“But really, Mr. English…” she began.
“That’s an order,” he broke in curtly. “Let the work wait. You’re always working. Let Harry do what’s necessary.”
“Harry was late, too,” she reminded him quietly. “It’s all right, Mr. English. I’m not a bit tired. We’re working on the fight figures.”
English ran his fingers through his dark hair and scowled.
“Damn it! I’d forgotten about the fight. What was the take?”
“Harry will have the figures for you in about half an hour.”
“Good. Now about last night. What did you think of the setup there?”
“Not much, Mr. English. I went through all the files. There’s been no new business since August.”
English frowned.
“Are you sure? Let’s see, I bought the business for him in March, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Mr. English. I’ve found correspondence dated up to July 31st, but nothing since then.”
“What was he doing then for the past nine months?”
Lois shook her head.
“The place might just as well have been closed. Nothing came in, and nothing went out. At least, there are no copies of letters in the files.”
English rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
“How about his cases? Did he keep any record of those?”
“He handled eighteen cases from April to the end of July. Twelve of them were divorce cases, three missing people cases and three husband-and-wife watching. But after the end of July there are no records of him having any other cases.”
“What about his books?”
“There was a set in the safe. I took copies of the details from March to July. I thought the police mightn’t like it if I took the books away. I have the copies if you would like to see them.”
“What was his net average take?”
“Around seventy-five a week.”
English grimaced.
“That’s nothing. Did the books show anything after July?”
She shook her head.
“Then how in the world did he manage to run a house like that on seventy-five a week?” English said blankly. “You mean to tell me that since August the business hasn’t earned a dime?”
“He may have kept another set of books, Mr. English, but according to the one I found, nothing came in since August.”
English shrugged.
“Well, okay. What else did you find?”
“There was a card index holder in one of his desk drawers. It had a few blank cards in it. I have an idea the cards that were in use have been taken away.”
English studied her, his eyes interested.
“What makes you say that?”
“From the appearance of the box. The bottom of it was very dusty, and by the marks in the dust it was pretty obvious that there had been a number of cards in the box. I’m just making a guess, but it did strike me that a number of cards had been recently removed.”
“Maybe the box belonged to the previous owner.”
“It looked new to me, Mr. English.”
English pushed back his chair and stood up. He began to prowl around the office, his brows wrinkling into a frown.
“It’s damned funny, isn’t it?” he said after a long silence. “So no business at all was done in the office from August of last year to date. Is that right?”
“Yes, unless copies of letters and dossiers covering that period have been taken away.”
“Any sign of any paper having been burned in the office?”
“No.”
“Well, all right, Lois, thanks a lot. Sorry to have kept you out of bed so late. Be a good girl and go home after lunch. What’s important for me today?”
“You have two interviews this afternoon—Miss Nankin and Mr. Burnstein. You are lunching with the senator at one-thirty. There’s the mail and a number of contracts for your signature, and Harry would like you to see the balance sheet and figures of the fight.”
“Let’s have the mail first. Then send Harry in to me.” English glanced at his watch. “I have an hour and a half before I need worry about the senator.”
“Yes, Mr. English.”
She went out and returned almost immediately with the mail. She sat down at the desk with her notebook ready for his dictation.
Working with his usual speed, English polished off the mail, glanced through a number of