Brett Halliday - The Corpse Came Calling

“Maybe so,” objected Joe. “But the cops wouldn’t of known-”

“Shut up,” Leroy snarled again at his burly companion. “We didn’t come here for an argument,” he told Shayne. “Maybe you didn’t get to Jim Lacy first. Maybe you don’t know what we’re after.” He got up slowly, holding his gun level. “But we’re not leaving here till we’ve found out for certain. Stand behind him, Joe, and let him have it if he makes a move or lets out a yelp. Easy, though. I don’t want him passed out this time. I want him to keep his eyes open and see this.”

Joe took a spread-legged stance behind Shayne, his eyes glittering humidly as Leroy moved around behind Phyllis’s chair. Shayne’s head pivoted slowly, his eyes following the gunman’s movements.

Phyllis’s eyes were wide and staring. They implored her redheaded husband to remain calm and not consider her.

“She’s a cute little trick,” said Leroy softly. He patted Phyllis under the chin, then tweaked the top of her robe into a wider V.

“Mighty nice stuff for a lousy private dick to stake out all for himself,” he went on in a dangerously soft voice. “Why not divvy up with your pals, shamus? Maybe that’s what you’re going to do, huh? Joe and me, now, we don’t get a look at anything this nice very often.”

Sweat streamed from Shayne’s rocklike face. He remained hunched forward, motionless, but muscles writhed beneath the bare skin of his back like a litter of snakes in the hot sun. He could hear Joe breathing loudly behind him with a sharp, slobbering sound. Phyllis’s eyes held his. Without speaking, she was crying out to him that she didn’t matter, that they couldn’t hurt her.

“Watch him, Joe,” Leroy counseled sharply. “He’s not going to take much more of this. How about it, Shayne? Do you talk, or do I untie this gal’s belt and really give Joe a look? Joe’s funny. He’s not like you and me that can take a woman or leave her alone. Once Joe gets started-”

Shayne’s body lunged forward. Joe’s blackjack was a split second slow. It thudded against his shoulder as he whirled and drove a fist into Joe’s face. Joe stumbled backward, and Shayne swung toward Leroy.

The gunman stepped from behind Phyllis’s chair, crouched with the. 45 in front of him. “Don’t do it, Shamus,” he panted. “I’ll blast you, so help me.”

Shayne’s lips came back from his teeth in a grin that was more animal than human. He took a step forward and his eyes were mad. “You’ll have to blast me, Leroy. There’s no other out.”

He kept moving, very slowly, directly toward the muzzle of Leroy’s. 45.

Leroy moved backward. He panted, “Don’t come any closer.”

Shayne kept moving. He laughed shortly, and the sound vibrated eerily in the silent room. “You’ll have to pull that trigger, Leroy. I’m going to make you pull it. That’ll bring the cops-and the party will be over.”

Leroy took another backward step. Shayne was even with the center table when he saw the gunman’s eyes shift nervously and he sensed movement behind him.

He whirled and his hand shot out to get hold of the cognac bottle.

Joe was on his feet, circling forward. Shayne threw the bottle at Joe’s head. Joe ducked and the bottle sailed over him, through the open bedroom door where it smashed against the bedside table and toppled it over.

Leroy leaped forward as the bottle left Shayne’s hand. He swung his short gun in a vicious sideswipe against Shayne’s head. As the redhead swayed backward under the impact, Joe stepped close and measured him coolly. He swung the blackjack in a lazy arc and it tore the lobe of Shayne’s right ear loose from the scalp.

Shayne got to his knees with blood streaming from the side of his head. He teetered crazily back on his heels like a Russian dancer.

“What’s the matter with you bastards?” he taunted them.

Leroy called him a son of a bitch and kicked him in the face.

Shayne reeled back to the floor. Slowly he pushed himself up. He licked his lips and laughed again. “You lads had better tighten up your diapers and go to work. I can take a lot of this stuff.”

“Okay.” Leroy sighed. “He likes it, Joe. He must be one of these goddamned masochists you read about. Slug him, but easy. He wants us to knock him cold so he won’t have to watch his wife get raped. Cross him up-slug him easy so he don’t pass out.”

Joe slugged Shayne easy. The detective went flat on his face with arms and legs spread out. He drew in great gasping breaths, then painfully began to draw himself up again.

Running feet pounded down the corridor outside the apartment. A fist thundered on the door and rattled the knob. A hoarse voice shouted:

“Open up in there before we break the door down.”

Leroy said, “Sounds like cops-but how the hell? Come on, Joe! Out the fire escape.”

They ran through the kitchen to the fire escape while the pounding went on. Shayne was still working on the job of getting to his feet. He lurched to the door and jerked it open, sagged back against the wall while two red-faced policemen burst in, followed by the desk clerk.

Shayne pointed to the kitchen and muttered, “They went that way.”

The cops ran through the kitchen and a moment later were clattering down the fire escape.

Shayne drew in a deep breath and grinned weakly at the clerk. “The telephone, eh? When I threw the bottle it knocked the phone to the floor.”

“That’s right, Mr. Shayne. I was on the switchboard and I could hear noises and voices. I knew something must be wrong. There were two policemen still in the lobby, so I thought-”

“Didn’t a couple of thugs ask at the desk for me?”

“No, sir.” The clerk shook his head emphatically. “They must have slipped in the side door and up the stairs.”

Shayne nodded. He stumbled away from the wall and made the distance to Phyllis. He pulled her robe together, and the clerk helped him loosen the tape binding her mouth and limbs while he clucked solicitously and asked anxious questions which Shayne did not answer.

Phyllis tried to laugh and drew Shayne’s battered head to her bosom when she was released. Through lips that were sore and swollen from removing the tape she cried, “Oh, Michael! I thought I’d die. Sitting here unable to move-”

Shayne muttered, “I was afraid I wouldn’t” He lifted his head and said over his shoulder to the clerk, “Thanks a hell of a lot, bud. I guess you’ve done about all you can do right now.”

The clerk stammered, “Yes-I guess I have, Mr. Shayne,” and went out hastily.

It was very quiet in the apartment. Shayne was on his knees with his arms around his wife, and he kept his head pressed against her for a long time. Then he drew away and said, “I’m getting your robe bloody, angel.” He got up, steadying himself with one hand on the table.

Phyllis covered her face with her hands and began crying.

Shayne said, “It’s all right, Phyl. Some good cognac spilled-that’s all the real damage. And we’ve learned something important. A while ago we were wondering whether the scrap of cardboard meant anything. We don’t have to wonder about that angle any more.”

Phyllis took her hands away from her face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “C–Couldn’t you-have thought of an easier way to find out?”

Shayne fingered his swollen jaw, the lump on the side of his head, and his bleeding ear. “I’ve always done things the hard way. And,” his voice hardened, “I’ve never yet taken a beating that someone didn’t pay for later.” He leaned over and caught her face between his palms. “Don’t think those birds won’t pay for this.”

Phyllis shivered and caught his wrists. “Can’t you drop the case, Mike? Give the police that piece of cardboard-tell them the whole truth?”