Pardon My Body Read Free Page B

remaining partner, subject to a profit payment to the widow. Only male next-of-kin are in line to inherit control.”
    I said, “Nice for Banningham, huh?”
    O’Cassidy gave me a long, curious look. He said, in a flat, toneless voice, “Banningham died last night, too.”
    â€œDamn!” I said, for the razor had slipped and a half-inch nick under my left ear was bleeding rapidly. I groped for the alum stick. “Say that again, slowly, Cass.”
    He said it again. I couldn’t think of a thing to lay my tongue to.
    O’Cassidy grinned. “Ain’t you a smart guy? You sit through a murder without even seeing it and when it’s finally brought to your attention you don’t even connect one guy with the other…”
    â€œThe state police took our preliminary statements and we motored back to New York,” I said shortly.
    â€œSure they did, but they start to get ideas. Ideas about why is Grierson way out in Connecticut when he lives on Long Island? So they puts through a call to Longwater Corners, where Banningham lives. And all they get is the old ‘No reply.’ So they get tothinking maybe sumpin’ must be wrong. Hell, ain’t there no hired help to answer the buzzer?”
    O’Cassidy paused and tipped his hat so the sweatband was eased off his forehead. I could see the wide imprint on his pale skin.
    â€œCaptain Jenkins don’t like the way things stack up, so he grabs off a police jalopy and a couple patrolmen and beats it up to Longwater. Th’ whole damn place is in darkness and they finally have to bust their way in. No a soul in sight—until they get to the bedrooms and find Banningham stretched out on his with enough barbiturates to float th’ Queen Elizabeth under his green silk pajamas.”
    â€œSuicide?”
    â€œCould be.”
    â€œBut you don’t think so.”
    O’Cassidy got out a cigarette paper and started rolling. Little strands of golden tobacco spilled on to the carpet. “I don’t have an idea—except it’s funny a rich old guy should want to bump himself off. Not forgetting that his own doctor say he don’t have to take medicine to get his sleep.”
    I tied a Windsor knot in the royal blue tie. “You figure there’s more to it than meets the eye?”
    â€œI don’t know a thing,” said Cass. He added, slowly and deliberately, “But I will. And I don’t wantno amateur private eye sticking his chin out. If you know anything outside of what you told the state police I’m here to listen.”
    â€œI don’t know a thing,” I mimicked. I gave him the good old steady look. “And if you’re thinking of setting up as a private inquiry bureau you can forget it. I quit newspapers to start writing books and I don’t want my time messed up by clue-hunting coppers, not even by old buddies like Desmond O’Cassidy.”
    â€œOkay.” He pulled his hat back over his forehead. “You just stick to that, Dale, and everything’ll be fine.”
    Then he was gone.
    I finished dressing and went down to breakfast. I think it was something special—but it might have been anything because I was too preoccupied to notice. I ate hurriedly and absent-mindedly. Then I went back to my tiny lounge, leafed through the 1,600 pages of the New York telephone directory. Maybe she wasn’t listed on account of using a party line or something. But she was—Casson, Julia, 2168a West Portland Street and a number on the Queens exchange. I cradled the receiver on my shoulder so I could reach for a cigarette while I dialled. Then I suddenly remembered it was nearly eleven in the morning and that she’d most likely beat her office. I dialled United Textile Distributors Inc., that old-established family business that hadn’t got a family anymore.
    The girl on the switch said, “Good morning. This is United Textile Distributors