Slay Ride by Frank Kane

Author:Frank Kane [Kane, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440540349
Publisher: a division of F+W Media, Inc.
Published: 1950-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Consciousness seared its way back into Johnny Liddell’s brain painfully. Somewhere, far off, there was a murmur of voices that swelled to a roar, then diminished to a whisper. The words continued to elude him. He tried to raise his head, groaned, let it fall back.

“Well, well. Sleeping Beauty is coming back to life,” a voice said. It sounded familiar, as though he should recognize it. Liddell wished they would lower their voices. They jangled on his sensitive nerves.

He made another attempt to get his eyes open, winced at the sharp pain that started at the back of his head, shot blindingly to the back of his eyes.

The familiar voice jangled his nerves again. “Wonder if we’d recognize Liddell if we ever saw him up off his back, eh, Sergeant? You want to take a good look at him. He’s one private detective who really uses his head.”

There was a nerve-wracking guffaw, then another voice said, “Looks like too much wear and tear on the skull.” There was another agonizing period while both laughed.

Liddell managed to get his eyes open. He had trouble keeping them from rolling. Finally, he managed to stop them long enough to focus them on Inspector Herlehy.

Liddell tried to grin but the result was more like a horrible grimace. “You sure do get around, Inspector,” his voice sounded like a croak.

The inspector pushed his hat on the back of his head, rested his fists on his hips. “Think you’re going to live?”

Liddell made the mistake of trying to nod, groaned hollowly. “I’m afraid I might.” He managed to look around. “Did you get them?”

“What’d you expect her to do? Stay here and hold your head after she conked you?” He nodded his head toward the bedroom. “I guess we ought to be grateful that you didn’t lose that one too.”

Liddell sat up uncertainly, massaged the sore spot on the top of his head gently, debated the advisibility of holding out on Harry Esterbrook’s part in the evening’s festivities. He decided to play it faces up.

“It wasn’t just a girl. Right after I finished talking to you I tried to pump her a bit. I had my back to the door and while I was talking to her, a guy sneaked up behind me and conked me.”

Herlehy reached down, caught him by the arm, lifted him to his feet. “I don’t suppose you saw him?”

Liddell steadied himself with the table. “I did more than just see him. I recognized him. Name’s Harry Esterbrook.”

The inspector’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds familiar.”

“It should. Remember the Walton jewel robbery about twelve years ago?”

Herlehy nodded. “A bust, if I remember right.”

“That’s the one. No convictions. Acme recovered the jewels for the insurance company.”

“That pattern’s painfully familiar,” Herlehy growled.

“Anyway, at the time we thought Esterbrook was mixed up in it. We sent out flyers on him, trying to get some background material that could pin some other rap on him. This is the first time I’ve seen him since then.”

A white-coated attendant from the medical examiner’s office handed Herlehy a receipt which he initialed and handed back.

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