Read Online The Uncomplaining Corpses by Brett Halliday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brett Halliday
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fingers were clenched tightly in front of her on the clasp of a shabby patent leather bag.
Shayne said, “This is Mrs. Darnell, darling.”
Phyllis exclaimed, “Oh!” and started forward impulsively, holding out both her hands to the girl.
Dora made no move to take her offered hand. She stood looking at Phyllis with the same tragic lack of expression that had greeted Shayne. She wet her lips and said tonelessly, “Your wife, huh?”
“Yes. I’m Mrs. Shayne.” Phyllis caught her underlip between her teeth and glanced anxiously aside at Michael.
He had taken a step back and was watching Dora intently. Getting no response from him, Phyllis took Dora’s arm and urged her toward the divan, saying solicitously:
“Michael feels so terrible about Joe. And—oh, I’m so sorry. I—know how you must feel.”
Dora said, “No, you don’t.” She sat down stiffly, staring straight in front of her with terrifying fixity. The knuckles of her hands were strained and white with their grip on her bag.
“The reason you don’t know how I feel is because you’re married to him.” Dora nodded toward the detective. She sounded as though she was honestly trying to make Phyllis understand. She went on flatly: “Joe and me was goin ’ to get married today.”
Phyllis glanced down at the girl’s swollen body in quick comprehension. She sank to her knees and caught Dora’s hand in hers. “That’s—oh, that’s too terrible,” she breathed.
Dora jerked her hand away with a violent gesture. “I ain’t — I’m not wanting your sympathy. That don’t help any. He sent Joe out there.” Again she nodded toward Shayne, who was still standing in the background.
He moved forward while Phyllis sank back on the floor. He said, “That’s right, Dora. I sent Joe out there. I’m not likely to forget that. I’m doing my best to make it up to him.”
“How can you make it up? What can you do? What can anybody do? Joe’s dead.”
Shayne said, “I know. But you’re going to have his child. Don’t forget that, Dora.”
“As if I could.” Her voice rose shrilly. “It’ll be tainted. Marked with murder—with a murder Joe didn’t do.” She was tensed and her eyes held a wild glitter in their depths. Thin white fingers played with the clasp on her bag. “Joe didn’t do it. He didn’t do what they say.”
“Of course not,” Phyllis soothed her. She reached forward to touch Dora’s fingers. “Michael knows Joe didn’t. He just told me so. He’s after the real criminal right now. Everything will come out all right.”
Dora blinked her eyes and looked down at Phyllis’s shining dark head as though just becoming aware of her presence.
“ He done it. It’s your man’s fault.” She spoke slowly, as though it was by painful effort. “Joe trusted him, you know. It was him that got Joe to go straight and that’s why he was—why we were so broke we couldn’t get married. Las’ night we were—happy, and thought everything was going to be just grand.” She was silent. A tear trickled out of her left eye and down her cheek.
She blinked at the tear, staring down at Phyllis with feral intensity.
“It ain’t right,” she said tonelessly. “It ain’t fair. Other people having everything and me with nothing. Not even Joe. Not even a father for my baby.” She threw Phyllis’s hand away suddenly and her fingers dived into her shabby black bag.
Her hand came out clutching a tiny, stubby automatic and it was pointing upward at Shayne before he saw it.
Phyllis gasped and threw herself against the girl’s legs as the automatic spurted flame. A bullet whizzed past the detective’s face and buried itself in the ceiling.
Phyllis’s hand closed over Dora’s and she struggled with her for the weapon. Shayne stepped backward and watched them, amazement and pride fighting for precedence on his face.
His lips twitched in a broad grin when Phyllis settled back with the pistol in her possession while Dora slumped
Shayne said, “This is Mrs. Darnell, darling.”
Phyllis exclaimed, “Oh!” and started forward impulsively, holding out both her hands to the girl.
Dora made no move to take her offered hand. She stood looking at Phyllis with the same tragic lack of expression that had greeted Shayne. She wet her lips and said tonelessly, “Your wife, huh?”
“Yes. I’m Mrs. Shayne.” Phyllis caught her underlip between her teeth and glanced anxiously aside at Michael.
He had taken a step back and was watching Dora intently. Getting no response from him, Phyllis took Dora’s arm and urged her toward the divan, saying solicitously:
“Michael feels so terrible about Joe. And—oh, I’m so sorry. I—know how you must feel.”
Dora said, “No, you don’t.” She sat down stiffly, staring straight in front of her with terrifying fixity. The knuckles of her hands were strained and white with their grip on her bag.
“The reason you don’t know how I feel is because you’re married to him.” Dora nodded toward the detective. She sounded as though she was honestly trying to make Phyllis understand. She went on flatly: “Joe and me was goin ’ to get married today.”
Phyllis glanced down at the girl’s swollen body in quick comprehension. She sank to her knees and caught Dora’s hand in hers. “That’s—oh, that’s too terrible,” she breathed.
Dora jerked her hand away with a violent gesture. “I ain’t — I’m not wanting your sympathy. That don’t help any. He sent Joe out there.” Again she nodded toward Shayne, who was still standing in the background.
He moved forward while Phyllis sank back on the floor. He said, “That’s right, Dora. I sent Joe out there. I’m not likely to forget that. I’m doing my best to make it up to him.”
“How can you make it up? What can you do? What can anybody do? Joe’s dead.”
Shayne said, “I know. But you’re going to have his child. Don’t forget that, Dora.”
“As if I could.” Her voice rose shrilly. “It’ll be tainted. Marked with murder—with a murder Joe didn’t do.” She was tensed and her eyes held a wild glitter in their depths. Thin white fingers played with the clasp on her bag. “Joe didn’t do it. He didn’t do what they say.”
“Of course not,” Phyllis soothed her. She reached forward to touch Dora’s fingers. “Michael knows Joe didn’t. He just told me so. He’s after the real criminal right now. Everything will come out all right.”
Dora blinked her eyes and looked down at Phyllis’s shining dark head as though just becoming aware of her presence.
“ He done it. It’s your man’s fault.” She spoke slowly, as though it was by painful effort. “Joe trusted him, you know. It was him that got Joe to go straight and that’s why he was—why we were so broke we couldn’t get married. Las’ night we were—happy, and thought everything was going to be just grand.” She was silent. A tear trickled out of her left eye and down her cheek.
She blinked at the tear, staring down at Phyllis with feral intensity.
“It ain’t right,” she said tonelessly. “It ain’t fair. Other people having everything and me with nothing. Not even Joe. Not even a father for my baby.” She threw Phyllis’s hand away suddenly and her fingers dived into her shabby black bag.
Her hand came out clutching a tiny, stubby automatic and it was pointing upward at Shayne before he saw it.
Phyllis gasped and threw herself against the girl’s legs as the automatic spurted flame. A bullet whizzed past the detective’s face and buried itself in the ceiling.
Phyllis’s hand closed over Dora’s and she struggled with her for the weapon. Shayne stepped backward and watched them, amazement and pride fighting for precedence on his face.
His lips twitched in a broad grin when Phyllis settled back with the pistol in her possession while Dora slumped
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