She waited, her heart pounding, sick with fear for English, watching the bubbles of air as the two men fought under the water. They broke surface a second time. Sherman seemed no longer to be struggling. His arms and legs were locked round English’s body while English was fighting desperately to throw him off.
She swam toward them, trying to reach them before they sank again, but she was too late. They went down again as English was within a few inches of her questing hand.
Then after a long pause a body came to the surface, rolled over and floated half submerged near her. She reached it, turned it and saw with a sob of relief English’s white unconscious face.
She held him up, pushing him toward the floating recorder and propping him over it.
She was still holding him above the water when Kerr found them, fifteen minutes later, when he brought the speedboat toward the flaming wreck.
IV
Sam Crail hurried up the imposing steps that led to the main entrance of the new city hospital and entered the lobby where Dr. Ingolls, the resident surgeon, was waiting to meet him.
Ingolls, a tall, spare man in his late forties, was still in a slight flutter of excitement to have Nick English as a patient in his hospital.
The continual telephone calls, the invasion of the newspaper men and the constant stream of visitors, including stage and screen stars, show girls and stage technicians, enquiring after English, had temporarily disorganized the reception desk, and Ingolls was enjoying the experience of being on the fringe of English’s limelight.
As Crail shook hands with Ingolls, Crail said, “How’s the patient? Can I see him?”
“Yes,” Ingolls returned, smiling. “He’s coming along well. His tremendous constitution is doing more for him now than I can. In fact, we’re already having trouble keeping him in bed.”
“And the wound?”
“It’s healing satisfactorily. In another two weeks he should be fit enough to go home.”
“That’s good news. Well, I’ll go up. You’ve done a good job, doctor.”
Ingolls beamed.
“We do our best,” he said airily. “Of course, half the battle’s having a good constitution, and that’s something Mr. English certainly has.”
Crail nodded, and went off down the long white-tiled corridor to the elevator that took him to the first floor.
He found English lying in bed before an open window. On a side table was a mass of letters, cablegrams and books.
Chuck Eagan sat on an upright chair in a corner, his jaw aggressive and his eyes watchful. No one in the hospital had succeeded in shifting him. He had been in the room now for the past three days, ever since English had arrived, and even English couldn’t get rid of him.
“Well, Nick,” Crail said, coming over to the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Hello, Sam,” English returned. “Get yourself a chair. I’m fine. Why everyone’s making so much damned fuss beats me. I keep telling that quack I want to go home.”
Crail frowned.
“Considering you’ve been unconscious for the past two days, I think that’s unnecessarily unreasonable,” he said, pulling up a chair. He glanced over at Chuck. “You can take some fresh air, Eagan. He’ll be all right with me.”
Chuck snorted.
“Yeah? Look what happened the moment I took my eyes off him,” he said bitterly. “I’m sticking. No one else is going to throw lead into him again if I can help it.”
“Let him alone,” English said, grinning. “I’ve done my best to get rid of him, but I’ve given up. What’s the news?”
“You’re in the clear,” Crail said. “That tape recorder clinched it. You have nothing to worry about. It wouldn’t surprise me if the commissioner doesn’t call and apologize.”
English grimaced.
“I don’t want him here. What about Sherman?”
“They picked up his body. You broke his neck, Nick.”
“He would have finished me if I hadn’t pulled a judo trick on him,” English said. “It was a close call, Sam—too damn close. Is Lois all right?”
Crail nodded.
“Nothing the matter with her,” he said. “I spoke to her on the phone this morning. She sounds fine.”
“Didn’t she say she was coming to see me?” English asked a little anxiously. “I was expecting her.”
Crail shrugged.
“She didn’t say, but she’ll be along.”
English started to say something, then changed his mind. Instead, he asked, “What happened to that fella, Penn?”
“We’ve got him. Kerr was loading him into the boat when Sherman sneaked up behind him and cracked him over the skull. Kerr fell into the boat, and it drifted away, otherwise Sherman would probably have finished him. When Kerr came to, he saw the fire and came over to investigate. He fished you out just in time.”
“He’s a good man,” English said. “Do something for him, Sam. He’s got a cute baby daughter. Have a talk with him. He might like me to take over her education.”
“Sure,” Crail said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“According to Chuck, Morilli gave himself away,” English said. “What’s happening to him?”
“He’s facing an attempted murder rap. You’ll have to charge him, Nick. Luckily I took a couple of newspaper men along with me. The commissioner can’t cover up for him. He won’t give you any trouble for some time.”
“It all seems to be working out all right. I bet there’re a lot of disappointed people in the city right now. Rees must be shedding a few tears.”
“He is,” Crail said quietly. “He certainly thought he had got you where he wanted you. But the whole story’s got to come out. We can’t cover Roy up any longer.”
English shrugged, then winced.
“Damn! I mustn’t do that. I’m still a little sore,” he said, settling himself into a more comfortable position. “Well, it can’t be helped. I guess that lets me out, Sam.”
“For a little while,” Crail said, “but when the scandal’s blown over, you’ll be all right.”
English shook his head.
“No, it won’t be the same. It’s a funny thing but I don’t give a damn now. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been lying here. I’ve decided to break new ground. I’m getting out of this city, Sam. I have other ideas now.”
Crail looked alarmed.
“But you can’t do that! You can’t walk out of a setup as big as yours when so many people depend on you for work!”
“Oh, I’ll put someone in charge!” English said. “How would you like the job, Sam?”
“You’re not serious?” Crail said, stiffening with surprise.
“I certainly am. But don’t rush into it. Think about it. It’ll mean giving up your law work, but it’s a big job, Sam, and I know you could make a success of it. I’ll be happy to take twenty-five per cent of the net profit and leave the rest to you if you’ll take the whole business off my hands.”
“But what are you going to do?” Crail asked blankly. “This is your life, Nick. You can’t just throw it up.”
“Twenty-five per cent will give me all the money I want,” English said. “It’s time I looked at the world. I want to travel. Then when I’m tired of travelling, I’ll start all over again. You know, Sam, the best days of my life were when I was trying to become a success. Now, I’m going to try to recapture some of the fun I had in those days. Anyway, never mind about me. Think about my offer. If you don’t want it, I’ll have to find someone else. I’m quitting. I’ve made up my mind.”
Crail got to his feet.
“All right, I’ll think about it. I think I’m sold. Think of the attorney fees I’ll save!”
English laughed.
“Save—nothing. If you do the legal work, you pay yourself the appropriate fees. You can make a lot of money out of this setup, Sam.”
“Yeah,” Crail said, mentally calculating. “I guess I could. Give me until tomorrow, Nick. I’ll have an answ
er by then. I’d like to talk to Helen first.”
“Sure, there’s no hurry,” English returned. “I have a lot to do before I can quit.”
Later in the afternoon, Ed Leon looked in.
“Thought I’d drop in and see how you were making out,” he said, shaking hands. “I have to get back to Chicago, and I’m on my way now. There’s nothing more I can do for you, is there?”
English shook his head.
“No, I guess not. Thanks for all you’ve done, Ed. You’ll get a check as soon as I get back to my desk. We cleared that mess up pretty well, didn’t we?”
“Yeah. I wish you could have seen those coppers’ faces when Lois walked in with the tape recorder. She did a nice job of work, didn’t she?”
“She certainly did. I can’t understand why she hasn’t come to see me. Everybody in town’s looked in but her. What the hell is she up to, Ed?”
Leon grinned.
“For crying out loud! Who do you imagine is running your business while you’re lolling about in bed? Don’t you remember your new show’s opening tonight? She’s been working twenty-four hours a day to make it a success. The poor girl hasn’t had time even to powder her nose.”
“To hell with the new show,” English said irritably. “Who cares about it anyway? I want to see her!”
“She’ll be along. She said something about looking in before she goes to the theatre tonight. You should be grateful. The girl’s making your fortune.”
“Well, okay,” English said, frowning. “But it’s time she quit working like a slave.”
“I’ve been telling her that ever since I first met her, but she won’t listen,” Leon said. “Well, I’ve got to get moving. See you soon, pal, and take it easy. You’ve had enough excitement to last you a lifetime.”
When he had gone, Chuck said cautiously, “Is that right, you’re quitting, boss?”
English looked at him and grinned.
“Sure. I have a bigger job to attend to now. A job that’s going to take up a lot of my time. Something I should have tackled years ago.”
Chuck’s eyes opened.
“Anything in it for me, boss?”
English shook his head.
“I guess not,” he said cheerfully. “This is something personal. I’m going to get married, and I’m going to raise a family.”
Chuck’s expression of horror struck English as funny, and he burst out laughing.
ISBN: 978 1 472 05161 5
I’LL BURY MY DEAD
© 1953 James Hadley Chase
Published in Great Britain 1953
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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