There's That Corpse Again.

Here's a good source for pulp fiction - and I'm working my way through the sitcom-titled pulp original There's That Corpse Again, from 1943.

...THAT made me sore. The way I felt about Pat, I didn’t like this lump of flesh calling her a sucker, even if she was one. I had the impulse to drive my fist into his belly, clear to the elbow.

I said, “If that’s all you want, I’ll go back before my soup gets cold.”

“It’s not all I want,” his eyes were small and careful. “A newshawk named Pyle was in here, giving me the lowdown on you, Doane. He says you’re smart and nosy. We don’t want that kind around here. There’s a train out at midnight. Take it.”
I just grinned.
“Sammy will stay with you,” he said. “You won’t be the first passenger he’s helped to ship out of Happy Valley”
“I might be the last if he tries it,” I said. “Keep him off my back, Edwards. I don’t like Junior, and I don’t like being pushed around,”

“Let me plug him,” It was Yellowface’s voice. He might have been asking permission to take a drink. “Let me plug him, Clint. He’s too smart.”

Edwards shook his head. “No trouble,” he said. “He’ll smarten up by train time, Sammy. Don’t worry. He’ll smarten up.”

This could easily have been the title for I Wandered Lonely as A Corpse.