Free He Won't Need it Now by James Hadley Chase

curiosity, but I'll get you the dope, but in the meantime, take it easy.”
     When McGuire got back in the evening, Duffy was still sleeping.
     Alice said, “He's been that way all day.”
     “Sure, that's the best thing that could happen to him. Suppose we eat, and then maybe he'll be ready to talk.”
     While Alice was serving up, Duffy woke. He got into a dressing-gown and came out into the sitting-room. He looked a lot worse than he felt.
     Alice said, “Bill Duffy, go straight back to bed!”
     “I wish you two wouldn't pick on me,” Duffy said, sitting in an easy chair, “I'm feeling good. Hi, Sam, what about a drink?”
     The other two looked at each other helplessly.
     “A hopeless soak,” Sam said sadly. “You better go back.” Duffy shook his head. “You two birds had better be careful,” he said, “I've just had a little fast training, and I'll get tough.”
     McGuire settled the argument by producing a bottle of rum, a squeezer, some fresh limes, and a bottle of absinthe. He set about making up some Bacardi Crustas.
     “Make 'em big and strong,” Duffy said, “I want to get cockeyed tonight.”
     Alice looked round the kitchen door. “I've been waiting for that all day,” she said.
     “My wife's an awful drunkard,” Sam said.
     “You're telling me?” Duffy stood up to look at himself in the mirror. He took one glance, grimaced and sat down again. “I remember, before you knew her, when she got so stewed that it took ten cops to handle her.”
     Sam poured out the drinks. “That's old stuff,” he said, “you don't know what she's like now. Give her a few shots of rum, and it takes an army to handle her.”
     Alice came in. “When you two loafers've finished pulling my reputation to bits, come on in and eat.”
     They followed her into the kitchen, Duffy walking slowly, careful not to touch anything, and Sam with the big shaker in his hands.
     They sat round the table Duffy found it was difficult to eat, but he made a good show. They talked about general things until the meal was over. Both Alice and Sam were burning with curiosity, but they let Duffy have his head. When they had finished, they went back into the sitting-room. Alice sat herself on the arm of Duffy's chair, and McGuire stood in front of the empty fire-grate.
     Duffy said, “I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I guess you'd better have it from the start, and then we'll go into the whys and whats after.”
     He told them everything. How he met Morgan, what Morgan wanted him to do, how he went to the house and took the photographs, how the camera was stolen, how he found Cattley on the lift-shaft, how he got rid of the body, the meeting with the three toughs. He gave them the whole works.
     When he had finished, there was a long silence. Then McGuire said, “You've started something this time.”
     “I've not only started something, but it's something I'm going to finish.”
     Alice ran her long fingers through his hair. “I know it's no good me saying anything, but don't you think you've done enough?”
     Duffy put his fingers tenderly on his face, his eyes were suddenly very bleak. “No one can push me around like this and not know something about it,” he said softly.
     Alice got off the arm of his chair and walked over to the fireplace. She stood looking down at Duffy, her big eyes were sad. “You men are all alike,” she said; there was a faint undertone of bitterness in her voice. “All tough guys, who come home hurt!”
     Duffy looked over at Sam. “Suppose we forget that for a moment,” he said; “tell me what you found out about Annabel English.”
     Sam began to fill a pipe. “That dame's going to get herself into trouble one of these days,” he said, fumbling around for some matches. Alice took a box off