Read Online 1953 - I'll Bury My Dead by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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I’ve got to be running along.’
Morilli didn’t move. He sat looking up at English, an odd expression in his eyes that English didn’t like.
‘What’s on your mind?’ English asked curtly.
‘It’s up to you, Mr. English, but I should have thought you would have wanted to settle this business right now. I haven’t put my report in yet, but I’ll have to within the next half-hour.’
English frowned.
‘What’s your report got to do with me?’
‘That’s for you to say,’ Morilli returned carefully. ‘I like to help you where I can, Mr. English. You’ve always been pretty good to me.’
English had a sudden idea that there was something very wrong behind Morilli’s visit.
He leaned forward and flicked down the intercom switch.
‘Lois? Get hold of the senator and tell him I’m going to be late. I shan’t be with him until two o’clock.’
‘Yes, Mr. English.’
He released the switch and sat down again.
‘Go ahead, Lieutenant. Do some talking,’ he said, his voice hard and quiet.
Morilli hitched his chair forward, and looking English straight in the face, said, ‘I don’t have to tell you how the D.A. feels about Senator Beaumont. They’ve been sworn enemies ever since the senator got into office. If the D.A. can do anything to discredit the senator he’s going to do it. Everyone knows you’re behind the senator. If the D.A. can make things tough for you, he’ll do it in the hope it’ll eventually hit the senator. If he can involve you in a scandal, he’s not going to be too particular how he does it.’
‘For a lieutenant of homicide, you keep remarkably well informed about politics,’ English said. ‘All right, we’ll take that as read. What has it got to do with Mary Savitt?’
‘It could have plenty to do with her,’ Morilli said. ‘Doc Richards told me your brother died between nine and half past ten last night. He couldn’t put it nearer than that. He says Mary Savitt died between ten o’clock and midnight. Miss Hopper tells me she saw your brother leave Mary Savitt’s apartment at nine forty-five last night. It’s not going to take the D.A. long to arrive at the conclusion these two had a suicide pact. That your brother murdered the girl, then went down to his office and shot himself. If he does arrive at that conclusion there’s going to be quite a stink in the press, and it’s going to come this way and bound off you onto the senator.’
English sat still for a long moment, staring at Morilli, his eyes like granite.
‘Why are you telling me all this, Lieutenant?’ he asked at last.
Morilli lifted his shoulders; his small dark eyes shifted away from English’s face.
‘No one but me knows it’s murder, Mr. English. Doc Richards says it’s suicide, but then he didn’t see the stain on the carpet. If he knew about that, he’d change his mind, but he doesn’t know, nor does the D.A.’
‘But they’ll know when you’ve put in your report,’ English said.
‘I guess they will, unless I forget to mention the bloodstain.’
English studied Morilli’s white, expressionless face.
‘There’s Miss Hopper’s evidence,’ he said. ‘You say she saw Roy leave the apartment. If she starts talking, the D.A. will investigate. He might even find the stain.’
Morilli smiled.
‘You don’t have to worry about Miss Hopper,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken care of her. I happen to know what she does in her spare time. She wouldn’t want to go into the box and give evidence. Some smart attorney like Sam Crail might turn her inside out. I mentioned that fact to her. She isn’t going to talk.’
English leaned forward to knock ash off his cigar.
‘You realize the chances are a hundred to one that Roy killed the girl, don’t you?’ he said quietly. ‘If she was murdered, then someone is going to get away with it, if it wasn’t Roy.’
Morilli shrugged.
‘It’ll be your brother who murdered her if the D.A. hears about the stain, Mr. English. You can
Morilli didn’t move. He sat looking up at English, an odd expression in his eyes that English didn’t like.
‘What’s on your mind?’ English asked curtly.
‘It’s up to you, Mr. English, but I should have thought you would have wanted to settle this business right now. I haven’t put my report in yet, but I’ll have to within the next half-hour.’
English frowned.
‘What’s your report got to do with me?’
‘That’s for you to say,’ Morilli returned carefully. ‘I like to help you where I can, Mr. English. You’ve always been pretty good to me.’
English had a sudden idea that there was something very wrong behind Morilli’s visit.
He leaned forward and flicked down the intercom switch.
‘Lois? Get hold of the senator and tell him I’m going to be late. I shan’t be with him until two o’clock.’
‘Yes, Mr. English.’
He released the switch and sat down again.
‘Go ahead, Lieutenant. Do some talking,’ he said, his voice hard and quiet.
Morilli hitched his chair forward, and looking English straight in the face, said, ‘I don’t have to tell you how the D.A. feels about Senator Beaumont. They’ve been sworn enemies ever since the senator got into office. If the D.A. can do anything to discredit the senator he’s going to do it. Everyone knows you’re behind the senator. If the D.A. can make things tough for you, he’ll do it in the hope it’ll eventually hit the senator. If he can involve you in a scandal, he’s not going to be too particular how he does it.’
‘For a lieutenant of homicide, you keep remarkably well informed about politics,’ English said. ‘All right, we’ll take that as read. What has it got to do with Mary Savitt?’
‘It could have plenty to do with her,’ Morilli said. ‘Doc Richards told me your brother died between nine and half past ten last night. He couldn’t put it nearer than that. He says Mary Savitt died between ten o’clock and midnight. Miss Hopper tells me she saw your brother leave Mary Savitt’s apartment at nine forty-five last night. It’s not going to take the D.A. long to arrive at the conclusion these two had a suicide pact. That your brother murdered the girl, then went down to his office and shot himself. If he does arrive at that conclusion there’s going to be quite a stink in the press, and it’s going to come this way and bound off you onto the senator.’
English sat still for a long moment, staring at Morilli, his eyes like granite.
‘Why are you telling me all this, Lieutenant?’ he asked at last.
Morilli lifted his shoulders; his small dark eyes shifted away from English’s face.
‘No one but me knows it’s murder, Mr. English. Doc Richards says it’s suicide, but then he didn’t see the stain on the carpet. If he knew about that, he’d change his mind, but he doesn’t know, nor does the D.A.’
‘But they’ll know when you’ve put in your report,’ English said.
‘I guess they will, unless I forget to mention the bloodstain.’
English studied Morilli’s white, expressionless face.
‘There’s Miss Hopper’s evidence,’ he said. ‘You say she saw Roy leave the apartment. If she starts talking, the D.A. will investigate. He might even find the stain.’
Morilli smiled.
‘You don’t have to worry about Miss Hopper,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken care of her. I happen to know what she does in her spare time. She wouldn’t want to go into the box and give evidence. Some smart attorney like Sam Crail might turn her inside out. I mentioned that fact to her. She isn’t going to talk.’
English leaned forward to knock ash off his cigar.
‘You realize the chances are a hundred to one that Roy killed the girl, don’t you?’ he said quietly. ‘If she was murdered, then someone is going to get away with it, if it wasn’t Roy.’
Morilli shrugged.
‘It’ll be your brother who murdered her if the D.A. hears about the stain, Mr. English. You can
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