Free 1953 - I'll Bury My Dead by James Hadley Chase

was essential to have a powerful friend in the political machine. Although Beaumont was no ball of fire, he was at least sharply aware of his debt to English, and was willing to pull strings when English wanted them pulled.
    The next move, English had decided, was to get Beaumont elected senator. The opposition was stiff, but again with English’s money and coupled with his ruthless determination, Beaumont became senator. Now, he was to come up for reelection in another six months’ time, and English knew Beaumont was uneasy as to what the results would be.
    The maître d’hôtel came hurrying over to English as he stood in the doorway, and deferentially led him down the long aisle to the senator’s table. As he followed the maître d’hôtel, English was aware that everyone in the luxury restaurant had stopped talking and was looking at him with curious eyes.
    He was used to being stared at, but today he felt those stares were accentuated by something more than curiosity. The news of his brother’s suicide had caused a sensation, and people were already beginning to gossip about the reason for the suicide.
    The senator half rose from his seat at English joined him.
    ‘I thought you were never coming,’ he said in his shrill, waspish voice.
    English gave him a hard, cold look and sat down.
    ‘I got held up,’ he said shortly. ‘What are we going to eat?’
    While the senator was choosing his meal, the maître d’hôtel slipped an envelope into English’s hand.
    ‘This came for you about ten minutes ago,’ Mr. English, he murmured.
    English nodded, ordered a rare steak and green peas and half a bottle of claret, then ripped open the envelope and glanced at the scrawled message.
    Everything under control. Corrine put on a beautiful performance. Verdict: suicide while mind was unbalanced. There’ll be no kickback. Sam.
    English slipped the note into his pocket, a hard little smile lighting his face.
    ‘What’s this I hear about your brother?’ the senator asked as soon as the maître d’hôtel had gone away. ‘What the hell was he playing at?’
    English looked at him, a surprised expression on his face.
    ‘Roy’s been heading for a breakdown for weeks now,’ he said quietly. ‘I warned him he was working too hard. Well, it got too much for him, and he took the easy way out.’
    The senator snorted. His leathery complexion turned a dark red.
    ‘Don’t feed me that crap!’ he said fiercely, keeping his voice down. ‘Roy never did a hard day’s work in his life. What’s this about blackmail?’
    English shrugged.
    ‘There’s bound to be all kinds of rumours,’ he said indifferently. ‘There are plenty of people who would like to make a stink out of it. You don’t have to get hot under the collar. Roy shot himself because he was worried about his business. That’s all there’s to it.’
    ‘Is it?’ Beaumont said, leaning forward to glare at English. ‘There’s talk he tried to blackmail some woman, and he was going to lose his licence. How true is that?’
    ‘Every word of it,’ English said, ‘but no one’s going to say so unless he wants a lawsuit with me about it.’
    Beaumont blinked and sat back.
    ‘Like that, is it?’ he said, a look of admiration coming to his eyes.
    English nodded.
    ‘The police commissioner started this. I’ve had a word with him. He’s not taking it any further. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Beaumont.’
    The waiter brought the steaks, and after he had gone, Beaumont said, ‘Maybe I haven’t anything to worry about, but you have. This’ll kill the hospital business.’
    English cut his steak, then glanced up.
    ‘What makes you say that? If the commission thinks they can double-cross me, they have another thing coming.’
    ‘Now look, Nick, you’ve got to be reasonable,’ Beaumont said anxiously. ‘You can’t get away from it. This rumour is going the rounds, and it’s a damned ugly rumour. You know what the commission’s like. They’ll