The Ace of Spades - Dell Shannon Read Online Free Page A

shot maybe, and he overdoes it or
has an idiosyncrasy for it— like they say."
    Hackett found the role of the big dumb cop useful,
and sometimes forgot to lay it aside in private; as he also looked
the part, it came as a little surprise to most people that he was, in
fact, a university graduate.
    "And he was nervous about the shot and made a
lot of tries at it." V
    "Could be," conceded Mendoza. "Could
still be .... Cigarettes but no matches. Handkerchief but no
billfold— where most of us carry some identification."
    "You've done time down on Skid Row like most of
us— you know how they live, hand to mouth. I've picked 'em up,
dead, drunk, and sober, without so much as a handkerchief on 'em."
    "Sure," said Mendoza, "and once in a
while with a few hundred-dollar bills in a back pocket." He
picked up the inside phone again and called the crime lab, and got
Dr. Erwin himself. "Over at the morgue is a body, and I presume
they still have its clothes. The body of a handsome young man who
died of a shot of heroin. I'd like the clothes gone over thoroughly,
if you'll be so good." He added the last as a sop to Dr. Erwin's
reputation; you didn't give arbitrary orders to a criminological
scientist who had several times been consulted by Scotland Yard's
C.I.D.
    “ What for?"
    "Anything. If I knew specifically I'd have told
you."
    "Really, Luis," said Dr. Erwin, annoyed,
"must you be so difficult? We do like to have some idea, you
know."
    "Me, I'm not a chemist," said Mendoza. "I
read in the papers that criminological scientists make miracles these
days— peer at the microscope and tell the cop on the case just who
and what to look for. Science, it's wonderful, ¿no
es verdad? You just take a general look and
see what turns up."
    "Really," said Erwin. "Oh, well, we'll
do our best."
    "I wonder— " Hackett was beginning, when
Sergeant Lake looked in the door and said Lieutenant Carey would like
to see whoever had that Carson Street homicide. Carey of Missing
Persons.
    "Ah," said Mendoza happily, "the next
installment of this thrilling mystery, maybe. Bring him in, Jimmy."
 

    THREE
    Carey was a big stocky man with a pugnacious jaw.
He'd been a lieutenant only a few months; neither Hackett nor Mendoza
knew him well. He came in on the sergeant's heels and nodded at them.
"I had a memo from Sergeant Hackett— about this latest
unidentified corpse you've got. It might be somebody we're looking
for."
    "Sit down and let's hear the details. Have you
looked at the corpse yet?"
    "Just got back from the morgue. I didn't have a
photo, but I think it's him all right. Stevan Domokous, working as a
clerk. Greek, but had his first papers."
    "My God," said Hackett, "I must have
caught it from you, Luis— hunches— that's close enough to
Bulgaria, isn't it? Was he a millionaire's son, Carey?"
    "I don't know," said Carey, looking a
little surprised. "But he's been missing about the right time,
and the description matches. Fellow came in to report it last
Wednesday— head of a local import and export firm, an Andreas
Skyros— I'd lay a bet on that one being a millionaire, all right.
Dressed to the nines, diamond ring, gold tooth, custom-made suit, the
works. He's a citizen, but came from the old country— you can cut
his accent with a knife."
    "I take it this Domokous hadn't any family here,
if it was this fellow came in. Friend, or is he a relative?"
    "Employer. Domokous was working for him. Skyros
said he felt kind of responsible, the guy was lonely, didn't speak
English so well yet, you know. Which was how come, when Domokous
didn't show up for work last Tuesday, he went round to see him, see
if he was sick— or maybe sent one of the other fellows, I don't
know. Domokous had a cheap room in a hotel on Second Street, we went
over it. Not much there, a few odds and ends of clothes— no cash—
album of family pictures from the old country— stuff like that. He
paid by the week and it was almost up, they wanted the room— they'd
seen him last