The Corpse Came Calling (18 page)

“You don’t mean it,” she cried. “I trusted you—you won’t do it. You’re bluffing to make me confess something I didn’t do.”

Shayne paid no attention to her. He said, “Hello, Will,” into the telephone. “Have you seen the slugs the doc took out of Jim Lacy?”

“You fool,” Helen cried.

“Haven’t you seen the ballistics test yet? I think you’ll find they’re twenty-two-caliber, Will.”

He paused, chuckling. “That’s right. Same as the ones that killed Mace Morgan.”

He paused to listen again, and Helen breathed, “You’re framing yourself, you fool. Can’t you see what you’re doing?”

He motioned her to be silent. He said, “That’s right, Will. A ballistics test will prove the same gun killed both men. But I wish you’d take the fingerprints off the butt of it before you mess them up taking a ballistic test. That’s right, Will. And send a couple of boys over to two-twelve at the Tidewater Hotel. You’ll find a set of prints here that fit the ones you get off the gun.”

He hung up.

Helen was having difficulty with her breathing. She ran her tongue out over her lips and sucked it back. “You’re still crazy. You handled that gun last. It will have your prints on it.”

Shayne stood up. He shook his head. “I grabbed it away from you by the muzzle. After that I only touched the trigger guard. No. You’ve pulled your last double cross, sister. Even southern chivalry isn’t going to overlook two murders in the same day.”

She cowered away from him, trembling and terrified. “Damn your soul to hell! You planned this all along. Ever since last night. You sent me over here—”

“To keep you on ice until I’d cleaned up the other details,” Shayne told her coldly. “That’s right. And you fell for it.”

He went out the door and slammed it shut to close out the noise of her sobbing from his ears while he waited for the police to come.

All Shayne could think of was that he needed a bath.