Read Online A Coffin From Hong Kong by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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reservation?"
"Yes, Mr. Ryan. 'I'll have your ticket this evening. Is there anything else you want?"
"I'd like a photograph of Herman Jefferson. Can you fix that?" "A photograph?" She seemed surprised.
"It could be useful. I'm getting a morgue shot of his wife. Photos are always useful when on a job like this."
"Yes: I can get you one."
"How would it be if we met somewhere down town this evening? It'll save me driving out to your place. I've got a lot to do before I go. Suppose we say at the Astor Bar at eight?"
She hesitated, then nodded, "Yes: then at eight."
"Thanks: it'll help a lot."
She nodded again, gave me a cool little smile and walked away. I watched her get into a two-seater Jaguar and drive away.
Don't moon over her, sucker, I said to myself. If she's coming into Jefferson's millions, she'll find someone a lot more interesting than you: and that wouldn't be so hard either. I drove to the office and spent the rest of the morning tidying up the various outstanding odds and ends. Luckily, I had nothing on hand that mattered: nothing that couldn't wait a couple of weeks, but I hoped I wouldn't have to be away that long.
I was just thinking of going over the way for a sandwich when a tap came on the door and Jay Wayde wandered in.
"I won't keep you," he said. "I wanted to know the time of Herman's funeral. Do you know? I think I should be there."
"It's tomorrow," I said, "but I don't know the time."
"Oh." He looked disconcerted. "Well, maybe I could call Miss West. I wonder if they would mind if I went?" "I'm seeing Miss West this evening. I'll ask her if you like."
"I wish you would." He brightened up. "It's a bit embarrassing for me to ask. I mean I haven't seen him for so long. It just occurred to me . . ." He let the sentence drift away.
"Sure," I said.
"How did the inquest go?"
"As I thought: it's been adjourned." I paused to light a cigarette. "I'm off to Hong Kong tomorrow."
"You are?" He looked a little surprised. "That's quite a trip. Something to do with this business?"
"Sure. Old man Jefferson's hired me to look into the girl's background. He's paving: so I'm going."
"Is that a fact? You know that's one of the places I'd really like to visit. I envy you." "I envy myself."
"Well, I'll be interested to hear how you get on." He shifted from one foot to the other.
"Think you'll find out anything?"
"I haven't an idea. I can but try."
"So you met Mr. Jefferson. How did you find him?"
"Not so hot. He doesn't look as if he's going to last long."
"I'm sorry to hear that. He's pretty old." He shook his head. "Must have been a jolt to him when Herman went." He began to move to the door. "Well, I only looked in. I have someone coming to see me. Have a good trip. Anything I can do for you while you're away?" "Not a thing, thanks. I'll lock up and that'll be that."
"Well, then I'll be seeing you. We'll have a drink together on your return. I'll be interested to hear how you get on and what you think of the place. You won't forget about the funeral?
You might ask if one can send flowers."
"I'll let you know tomorrow."
Later in the afternoon, I drove over to police headquarters and picked up the morgue photo of Jo-An Jefferson that Retnick had promised me. I: was a good photograph. By letting the light fall on her dead eyes, the photographer had given her a resemblance of life. I sat in my car for some minutes, studying the picture. She had been certainly attractive. I had asked the morgue attendant what the funeral arrangements were. He told me she was to be buried at Jefferson's expense at the Woodside Cemetery the day after tomorrow. That meant she wasn't being put away in the family vault. The Woodside Cemetery was not for the lushplush residents of Pasadena City.
Around six o'clock, I locked up the office and went home. I packed a bag: did the various things one has to do when leaving for a couple of weeks, took a shower, shaved, put on a clean shirt, then drove down town to the Astor
"Yes, Mr. Ryan. 'I'll have your ticket this evening. Is there anything else you want?"
"I'd like a photograph of Herman Jefferson. Can you fix that?" "A photograph?" She seemed surprised.
"It could be useful. I'm getting a morgue shot of his wife. Photos are always useful when on a job like this."
"Yes: I can get you one."
"How would it be if we met somewhere down town this evening? It'll save me driving out to your place. I've got a lot to do before I go. Suppose we say at the Astor Bar at eight?"
She hesitated, then nodded, "Yes: then at eight."
"Thanks: it'll help a lot."
She nodded again, gave me a cool little smile and walked away. I watched her get into a two-seater Jaguar and drive away.
Don't moon over her, sucker, I said to myself. If she's coming into Jefferson's millions, she'll find someone a lot more interesting than you: and that wouldn't be so hard either. I drove to the office and spent the rest of the morning tidying up the various outstanding odds and ends. Luckily, I had nothing on hand that mattered: nothing that couldn't wait a couple of weeks, but I hoped I wouldn't have to be away that long.
I was just thinking of going over the way for a sandwich when a tap came on the door and Jay Wayde wandered in.
"I won't keep you," he said. "I wanted to know the time of Herman's funeral. Do you know? I think I should be there."
"It's tomorrow," I said, "but I don't know the time."
"Oh." He looked disconcerted. "Well, maybe I could call Miss West. I wonder if they would mind if I went?" "I'm seeing Miss West this evening. I'll ask her if you like."
"I wish you would." He brightened up. "It's a bit embarrassing for me to ask. I mean I haven't seen him for so long. It just occurred to me . . ." He let the sentence drift away.
"Sure," I said.
"How did the inquest go?"
"As I thought: it's been adjourned." I paused to light a cigarette. "I'm off to Hong Kong tomorrow."
"You are?" He looked a little surprised. "That's quite a trip. Something to do with this business?"
"Sure. Old man Jefferson's hired me to look into the girl's background. He's paving: so I'm going."
"Is that a fact? You know that's one of the places I'd really like to visit. I envy you." "I envy myself."
"Well, I'll be interested to hear how you get on." He shifted from one foot to the other.
"Think you'll find out anything?"
"I haven't an idea. I can but try."
"So you met Mr. Jefferson. How did you find him?"
"Not so hot. He doesn't look as if he's going to last long."
"I'm sorry to hear that. He's pretty old." He shook his head. "Must have been a jolt to him when Herman went." He began to move to the door. "Well, I only looked in. I have someone coming to see me. Have a good trip. Anything I can do for you while you're away?" "Not a thing, thanks. I'll lock up and that'll be that."
"Well, then I'll be seeing you. We'll have a drink together on your return. I'll be interested to hear how you get on and what you think of the place. You won't forget about the funeral?
You might ask if one can send flowers."
"I'll let you know tomorrow."
Later in the afternoon, I drove over to police headquarters and picked up the morgue photo of Jo-An Jefferson that Retnick had promised me. I: was a good photograph. By letting the light fall on her dead eyes, the photographer had given her a resemblance of life. I sat in my car for some minutes, studying the picture. She had been certainly attractive. I had asked the morgue attendant what the funeral arrangements were. He told me she was to be buried at Jefferson's expense at the Woodside Cemetery the day after tomorrow. That meant she wasn't being put away in the family vault. The Woodside Cemetery was not for the lushplush residents of Pasadena City.
Around six o'clock, I locked up the office and went home. I packed a bag: did the various things one has to do when leaving for a couple of weeks, took a shower, shaved, put on a clean shirt, then drove down town to the Astor
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