The Uncomplaining Corpses by Brett Halliday

we place the matter in the hands of a private detective. I confess my nervousness yesterday when she came to my office unexpectedly, but fortunately she spoke in such vague terms that you remained deceived.” There was a note of gratification in Thrip’s voice as though he preened himself on his cleverness in deception.
    There was a short silence during which Shayne stared at the floor and Thrip stared straight ahead. Then, as if speaking to himself, Thrip muttered, “I shan’t pretend any great grief over my wife’s death, but it is a pity she had to die in such a brutal manner.”
    Shayne’s eyes grew keen for an instant, but he was staring thoughtfully at the floor again when he said, “You say she pretended to dismiss the notes as the work of a crank at first. Do you imply that there was more to them than that—and she knew there was—she knew whom they were from?”
    “I do imply exactly that. I feel morally certain she knew the identity of the author of the notes from the first. Guessing the authorship of the notes myself, I felt she was in grave danger, but when she refused to consider the consequences of disregarding the threats I considered myself absolved of all responsibility in the matter.”
    “Hoping perhaps,” Shayne said with sharp irony, “that she would get bumped off so you could get your hands on her money.”
    “I resent that, Mr. Shayne.” The realtor arose, his face purpling with wrath. “I see no reason why I should allow you to insult me. Your status in my house is that of an unwelcome intruder.”
    Shayne didn’t move. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and his eyes were fixed on the toes of his number twelves . “I’m staying, Thrip . Sit down and stop swallowing your goozle . You’re not going to deny, are you, that her money comes to you and your children?”
    Arnold Thrip fidgeted indecisively, then sat down on the extreme edge of his chair. “As to that, it will be a matter of common knowledge when Leora’s will is probated that half of her fortune comes to us.”
    Shayne lifted his gaze sharply. “And the other half?”
    “I can’t see that it’s any of your business,” Thrip said, “but her brother, Buell Renslow , will receive half of the estate. As a matter of fact, Leora’s entire portion of the fortune comes to us—half of her father’s estate. For years she has enjoyed the use of the income from the entire estate, but there was a provision in her father’s will providing that one-half should go to her brother upon her death—or be held in trust for him until his release from the penitentiary to which he was sentenced twenty-five years ago for murder.”
    Shayne snapped from his moodiness with a start of surprise. “You’d better start at the beginning and tell it straight through.”
    Thrip stuck a dead cigar in the little pouch he made of his lips, drew ineffectually, laid the cigar on the stand. He turned a little toward Shayne. “I can’t see that it is any concern of yours,” he said with conscious dignity.
    Shayne’s half-closed eyes were brilliant. “Murder has been committed, Mr. Thrip ,” he said in a low tone. “You and your children are involved. You might be doing yourself a favor to come clean with me.”
    Thrip took a fresh cigar from a humidor on the stand, lit it, blew a puff of smoke ceilingward . “It is a brief though sordid story. You can understand my hesitancy in speaking of it. I have a standing in the community to maintain.”
    “Well?” Shayne said impatiently.
    “Two years before I married Leora , her only brother killed a man in a drunken brawl in a western mining camp. He was sentenced to life imprisonment and the disgrace of it hastened his father’s death. His father had taken millions in gold from a Colorado mine. His will stipulated that his entire fortune should be inherited by his daughter for her use as she saw fit during her lifetime, but in the event of her death, one-half of her estate should