"Brown, Roswell - Grace Culver 08 - Kitchen Trap" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Roswell)

"The funeral," he said, "will be from headquarters, I guess. Pete Brophy. They

fished him out of the East River this morning. Lead poisoning!"

Red-haired Grace Culver gasped audibly as her chief spoke the name. A quick

hiss of breath in sharp contrast to Noonan's dull rumble.

Brophy! She could remember the times the veteran Federal dick had come to

town on official business, back in her own childhood.

Her police sergeant father had been alive, then. He and Big Tim, his

inseparable pal, had welcomed Pete's visits. Pete was a swell guy. Pete was the

real goods. Pete Brophy was dead. Easy to understand the look on Tim's face--the

dull eyes and the deepened lines. It was the end of a twenty-year friendship. Tim

Noonan was the kind who valued his friends.

"Who--do they know--"

Tim's grizzled head shook slowly.

"No clues. Nothing. Harbor patrol boat found him early this morning. Six

slugs in his back. Been dead since midnight or a little after."

Grace watched her fingers tense slowly on the keyboard of her typewriter. Her

eyes were misted. Pete Brophy!

"Tim--there must be something!"

Tim grunted again.

"Sure! Suspicions! He was working on a political-extortion assignment. Big

ring here in town, shaking down men in public life all over the East. Clever and

tough, and they left no traces. It was a job for an old hawk like Brophy."

"There's the motive, then," Grace interjected. "Pete knew too much. When

headquarters puts the bee on whoever was tied up with the racket--"

Tim's mirthless chuckle interrupted her.