Read Online And Leave Her Lay Dying by John Lawrence Reynolds - Free Book Online Page B

figure.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œIf God created the world, how come he had to make both Vance and maggots?”
    â€œSon of a bitch!” Tim Fox grabbed for his beer and drained the glass in one swallow.
    â€œBad clam?” Ralph Innes reached into the oversized bowl in the centre of the table and selected another steamed clam. “Gotta expect one now and then, Timmy,” he said, prying open the shell. “Little guy’ll get his revenge on you while you’re sleeping tonight. Just make sure yo mama’s not between you and the john.”
    Every Wednesday was Bucket Night at Hutch’s, when six dollars bought all the steamed clams you could eat, with bowls of garlic butter and cocktail sauce set among baskets of crusty bread and pitchers of cold beer.
    â€œYou married, Timmy?” Janet Parsons held a small unopened clam delicately between the rips of her fingers. With a deft movement she separated the two halves of the shell and transferred the meat to her mouth. The entire motion, smooth and graceful, was watched with an expression of hunger by Ralph Innes.
    â€œJust six months,” Fox answered. He frowned; the clam had left a sour, unpleasant taste.
    â€œStill on your honeymoon,” Janet smiled at him.
    â€œI was almost married once,” Ralph Innes offered, trying to decide which clam to devour next.
    â€œWhat happened, Ralph?” Janet Parsons asked. “Did her father run out of shells for his shotgun?”
    â€œLook at this fat little guy,” Innes said, holding an over-sized clam for everyone to admire. “Naw, Janet. I just figured that the screwing you get isn’t worth the screwing you get!” He pried the shell open and looked around at the others at the table, his eyes settling on McGuire. “You’ve been married, right Joe? Couple of times, weren’t you?”
    McGuire nodded but didn’t reply. He wanted out of there.
    â€œJanet, you’re married to the luckiest hash slinger in town.” Ralph Innes skewered the clam meat with his folk and waved it in her direction. “Now there’s a guy to envy. A bar full of booze and sweet old Janet to come home to every night.”
    â€œHow are those grey files coming, Joe?” Tim Fox was waving a waiter over to the table.
    â€œOne down, a million to go,” McGuire replied.
    â€œHave you come across the Cornell file?” Ralph Innes asked.
    â€œThe one in the Fens?” McGuire shook his head at more beer. “Just to look at. I’ll start working on it in the morning.”
    â€œBroad gets her head conked over in the Fens,” Ralph Innes began explaining to the others as he sorted through the remainder of the clams. “Falls in the water and drowns. Me and Bernie, we worked on it, looking for her brother. Best lead was her brother . . . Archie, Allen . . . Andrew, that was it. Then we got yanked. The case died after that.”
    McGuire looked up from his clams. “Who yanked you?”
    â€œJack the Bear. Said we weren’t getting anywhere so he moved Fat Eddie Vance on it. Fat Eddie went nowhere, far as I know. Thing’s cold now, worn down like a hooker’s heels. We had three good suspects too.” Innes looked up at McGuire. “Take a look at that one, Joe. You figure it out, you’re Sherlock Holmes, I swear.”
    Tim Fox snapped his fingers. “I remember that one now,” he nodded. “Fat Eddie spent maybe two days scoffing some free drinks from a bar where the victim hung out. Did it all alone too. Kept me on the desk scratching my ass. Fat jerk.”
    â€œThat’s a case for you if there ever was one,” Ralph Innes said, pointing his fork across the table at McGuire. “I can see you and Ollie Schantz taking that one apart. Old Ollie, he’d sit back, shake out all the garbage, and write it up over a bowl of chowder. Am I right, Timmy?” Tim Fox nodded agreement.