1953 - This Way for a Shroud by James Hadley Chase

Author:James Hadley Chase [Chase, James Hadley]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter six

I

The fat desk sergeant shifted his bulk on his creaking chair and nodded his bullet-shaped head.

“The Lieutenant’s questioning him now,” he said. “He’s expecting you, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s expecting me,” Conrad said. “What’s he doing –pushing Weiner around?”

A dreamy expression came over the sergeant’s face.

“Well, he ain’t exactly combing his hair,” he returned. “Three of our best boys got killed through him.”

Conrad swung around, crossed the charge room in three strides and went quickly along the passage, down a short flight of stone steps, then to a door at the end of another passage. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Pete sat in a hard, bright circle of light. The small room was full of tobacco smoke and the smell of sweat and dust. It was also full of bull-necked, red-faced detectives. Bardin was standing in front of Pete, and as Conrad entered the room, Bardin drew back his arm and hit Pete across his face with the flat of his hand. The sound of the blow was like the bursting of a paper bag, and Pete’s head jerked back and then forward.

Blood ran down to his chin from a cut lip. His dark eyes, narrowed and full of hate, looked up at Bardin without flinching.

“So you’ve never heard of Maurer,” Bardin sneered. “Don’t you read the newspapers?”

“Only the sports column,” Pete said through gritted teeth.

Bardin swung his arm again, but Conrad reached out and caught his wrist.

“Take it easy, Sam,” he said quietly.

Bardin swung around. There was a dull, cold expression in his eyes as he stared at Conrad.

“That’s right,” he said with savage bitterness. “Take it easy. Never mind the guys who got killed. Never mind about their widows or their kids. Take it easy. What do you expect me to do? Put my arms around this little rat and suckle him?”

Conrad released Bardin’s wrist.

“Sorry to break up the session, but I want this guy.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and tossed it on to the desk. “This will cover you, Sam. Want me to sign for him?”

Bardin’s face grew dark with congested blood. He picked up the paper, glanced at it and tossed it back on the desk.

“What are you going to do with him?” he asked in a hard, rasping voice. “Tuck him up in bed with a radio and four good meals a day?”

Conrad looked at Bardin steadily and didn’t say anything. Bardin gave a heavy snort, walked around to his desk, took out a receipt book, wrote savagely, spluttering ink and shoved it across to Conrad.

“Okay, take the little rat. He’s not talking. He knows nothing. He’s never heard of Maurer. He wasn’t within a mile of the amusement park. If you think you’ll get anywhere with him without beating the guts out of him, you’ve got another think coming.”

“I want him in a wagon and escort,” Conrad said. “Fix it for me, will you, Sam?”

Bardin got up, nodded to one of the detectives who went out. Then he walked over to Pete and glared down at him.

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