The Corpse Came Calling Read Free

once. Ten years ago. From what I knew of him then, I wouldn’t expect a girl like you to be acquainted with him.”
    She kept her eyelashes down. In a low voice, she said, “It must be the same man.”
    “He used to be a private detective, too.”
    “He still is.”
    “Then why come to me? If you need the services of a detective.”
    “Mr. Lacy advised me to. He explained that he had a New York license and had no authority in Florida.”
    “Is Jim Lacy here—in Miami?”
    “Yes. I just happened to meet him today. I—I knew him casually in New York.” Helen Brinstead lifted her long eyelashes. She took a step toward him, wringing her hands. “I’m so alone here, Mr. Shayne. So frightened. You must listen to me—help me. You must! There’s no one else.”
    Shayne nodded. “Sure, I’ll listen to you. That’s my job. Relax.” He took her arm and steered her to a chair a couple of feet in front of him.
    She crossed her legs and leaned forward imploringly. “It’s going to sound too utterly fantastic, but I beg you to reserve a decision until you hear me out. That’s all I ask. I’ve kept it bottled up inside of me too long. I can’t go on. It’s too utterly horrible to face alone.” She stared past him, panting through compressed lips.
    Shayne offered her a cigarette. She shook her head and he lit one for himself. “You make it sound very interesting, Miss Brinstead. I like a case that offers possibilities beyond the dull routine of crimes motivated by lust and greed.”
    Her eyes were a darker blue when she shifted her gaze back to him. She looked older, and her words sounded rehearsed.
    “Before I take any more of your time, I’ve heard—well—that your fees are dreadfully high. I don’t know whether I can afford to pay what you’ll charge.”
    Her fingers were writhing together in her lap. Her gray skirt slipped above her knees, but her eyes were intent on Shayne and she didn’t notice. He lifted a big hand reassuringly.
    “Sometimes I manage to collect a decent fee, but it’s always in line with the job I do and never more than my client can stand. We’ll discuss the fee after you’ve told me what you want done.”
    “One thing more. No matter what I tell you, you’ll keep it confidential? Will you give me your word of honor?”
    “Hell,” said Shayne in disgust, “if you don’t think you can trust me, you’d better leave right now.”
    A flush crept into her cheeks. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and lowered her lashes. She smoothed her skirt down over her knees and said tonelessly, “I guess I’m acting like a fool. I—you see—I—I tried to commit suicide yesterday.” She shuddered, with eyes downcast. “Everything looked so terribly hopeless. Then I met Mr. Lacy and he told me about you and, well—I was crazy enough to start hoping again.”
    Shayne said, “This isn’t getting us anywhere. You’re talking in circles and now you’ve got back to the starting point. See if you can’t start making sense for a change.”
    She glanced up angrily, then faltered, “I deserved that. The trouble is, I’ve been thinking in circles. I think I’ll take that drink you offered me.”
    “What’ll it be? There’s practically anything you want in the cabinet.”
    “Just—whatever you’re drinking.” Helen glanced at the cognac bottle timidly.
    “This is pretty potent stuff to take straight unless you’re used to it.” Shayne heaved his rangy body up and went to the cabinet, where he got a Seltzer bottle and a highball glass. He went into the kitchen, returned with three ice cubes in the tall glass. The girl watched in silent absorption while he poured cognac over the cubes and squirted Seltzer in. She accepted the glass gratefully.
    As Shayne settled back in his chair the wail of a police siren came through the open window behind him. It sank to a moan, then wailed high again, died to silence outside the apartment hotel.
    The girl asked, “Is that a fire