Free 1977 - My Laugh Comes Last by James Hadley Chase Page A

desk was piled with work. The telephone bell constantly rang. Bill Dixon, calling from 'Frisco, came through with the final details of our new building.
    'This is going to be a big one, Larry,’ he said excitedly. ‘They have approved the extra extension. We have really got to get off the pad.'
    I listened, made notes, assured him I could handle my end of it and hung up. The pressure was such I couldn't even think of Klaus, but he was at the back of my mind, pushed into my subconscious, but ready to appear the moment I could pause to think.
    Mary Oldham, my secretary, a plump, middle-aged woman who was efficiency itself, looked around my door.
    'Sheriff Thomson, Mr. Lucas, asking for you.'
    I stiffened, my heart skipping a beat as Thomson stalked into my office.
    'Hi, citizen,' he said. 'Police business. You're busy. I'm busy, but police business is more than busy.'
    'Okay, Joe, make it fast. What is it?'
    The telephone bell rang, and I picked up the receiver. It was the builder's contractor. We talked costs for a couple of minutes, then I told him to talk to Bill Dixon, and hung up, 'What is it, Joe?' I asked impatiently.
    'Glenda Marsh,' Thomson said. 'She's quit town. She's a phony.'
    'What does that mean, and what has that to do with me?'
    I forced myself to meet his probing eyes.
    'This woman came here to do a reportage for The Investor . . . right?'
    'So she told me,' I said.
    ‘Yeah. So she told me. She poked around, took photographs, had a date with me to photograph the jail, then didn't show, and has left town.' He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit up. 'The Investor is an important paper. So I asked myself why this woman should suddenly quit town. I contacted The Investor, and they tell me they don't know her and they don't employ freelance photographers. What do you make of that?'
    I had to play this cool, and with an effort, I shrugged, waving my hand impatiently.
    'Look, Joe, I'm up to my eyes in work. For all I know, and frankly, I don't give a damn, she was an opportunist. Lots of freelance journalists do the same thing - claiming they work for an important magazine to get interviews. Then they write up articles and try to sell them. It happens all the time.'
    Thomson leaned forward to tap off his ash into my ash bowl.
    ‘Yeah, could be.' He sucked at his cigarette, then went on, 'I am the Sheriff of Sharnville. It is my job to protect this town. Sharnville has the safest bank in the world, and lots of wealthy citizens. It's my job to watch over them, and the bank. That's what I get paid for. When a woman like Marsh arrives on the scene, takes photographs, chats up our more wealthy citizens who, thinking she is representing The Investor, talk their fat heads off, because getting coverage in a magazine of that standing is a status symbol, and then when I find out she is a phony, I start looking for trouble. I've talked to a number of our wealthy citizens, and learn they have been boasting to this woman about the money they stash away in the Californian National Bank.' He made a grimace. 'When you get a guy making big money, get him to drink a few martinis, let a pretty woman soft-talk him, he runs at the mouth.' His little cop eyes were like granite.
    ‘When she talked to you, did she ask you anything about the security of our bank?'
    Keeping my face expressionless, I said, 'No, but she did ask me to give her an introduction to Manson, which I did.'
    'I know that. I've already talked to Manson.' He kept staring at me. 'So she didn't ask you about the security of the bank? You know more about the security setup than Manson does, don't you?'
    ‘You can say that.' Then the telephone bell rang This gave me time to get my second wind. It was Bill Dixon asking about a computer I had ordered. I spent longer than necessary telling him the exact measurements and where the electric feed should be.
    Thomson continued to sit, staring at me, but by the time I had finished talking to