ALM06 Who Killed the Husband? (9 page)

"And the maid, Eliza Young?"

"She has been to my place three or four times with notes from Agnes. Agnes considered telephoning unsafe because the calls at her home went through a switchboard in the pantry. Eliza might have been in my bedroom--she's a sly one !--because sometimes I was busy with my work in the kitchen when she came and had to let her wait in the living room for a while."

"Have other people visited your rooms?"

"Oh, many others. It was a kind of hangout; there was always something to drink there. They made themselves free of the place; they would roam around. I was often busy in the dark room or kitchen...I'll make a list of everybody I can remember and send it to you."

"Thanks," said Lee dryly. "I have not yet promised to give my time to this matter."

Al smiled in his most ingratiating manner. "What have you got against me, Mr. Mappin?"

"Let's not go into that. Answer one question. If it is true you thought Gartrey had killed himself, it is not unnatural you should have thought only of getting out of the place; but next day, when you read the newspapers and learned that he had not killed himself, that, in fact, you were accused of the crime, why didn't you give yourself up? That's the natural impulse of an innocent man."

"Try to put yourself in my place, sir," Al said cajolingly. "Hawkins' story was enough to send me straight to the chair! And such an honest-looking old bozo; anybody would believe him. I could see that I was already convicted in the minds of the public. What kind of a defense had I? I could only clear myself by accusing Agnes. What would everybody have said then? Believing that we were lovers, they would say that I had allowed the woman to do the killing so we could come together, and was now accusing her to save my own skin. By God! I couldn't bear that. I would sooner..."

At this moment the bell of Lee's apartment sounded. Al jumped up all alert. "You'll have to go to the door," he said. "They know you're home."

Lee's first thought was regret that he had hung out his tick-tack so soon. He wanted to ask Al more questions. Somebody began to pound on his door and voices called for him. Al was already halfway through the dining room; Lee followed him. Through the pantry door he went; and into the kitchen. He opened the service door. With his hand on the door, smiling still, he said:

"Good-by, Pop. You're a good fellow! Sorry I couldn't win you over!"

The door slammed, and Lee stood staring at it blankly. A renewed uproar at the other door recalled him to himself. Running to it, he shouted to those on the other side. "This door is locked and the key is gone! Alastair Yohe is on his way down the service stairs!"

"Who?" they shouted.

"Alastair Yohe!"

"My God!"

"Ring for the elevator and cut him off at the bottom! Some of you run down the stairs in case the elevator is slow in coming."

"Use the house phone!" a voice shouted.

"I can't! The wires are cut."

He heard the door to the stair well being pulled open and running feet on the steps. He doubted, however, if any of Tod Larkey's guests were nimble enough to beat Al Yohe to the bottom. All would depend on how quickly the elevator came up. Lee returned to his living room and mixed himself a stiff drink.

In ten minutes or so they were back at Lee's door. They had the superintendent of the building with them, who brought a duplicate key. Half a dozen men pushed in through the door. Tod Larkey's party, it appeared, was a stag affair. His guests were flushed and a little unsteady on their pins.

"He got away!" they all cried at once.

In spite of the self-discipline he had exerted, Lee's first feeling was one of gladness. He took care to hide it. One man cried:

"I saw him! I ran around the corner to the service entrance and he was getting in a car. The engine was running. The rear light was out and I couldn't read the license number."

All together they demanded to know what had happened.

Lee was in no humor to take this noisy bunch into his confidence. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't tell you the story until I have reported it to the police. You'll learn it soon enough. Mr. Larkey, if you'll allow me, I'd like to call up Inspector Loasby on your phone. My wire is out."

They trooped down the single flight of stairs to the Larkey apartment. Larkey and his guests had their ears pricked to hear Lee's report over the phone, but upon getting Loasby at his home, Lee merely said:

"Inspector, can you come down to my place right away? It's important."

"Well," said Loasby reluctantly, "I have guests. Can't you tell me what it is over the phone?"

"No," said Lee.

Loasby knew, of course, that Lee was neither a trifler nor a scaremonger, and he wasted no more words. "Okay," he said, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Declining all offers of a drink, Lee, after thanking his "rescuers," went back upstairs.

Chapter 7

Jermyn got home before Inspector Loasby arrived. The good fellow was flabbergasted when he learned what had happened. "I'll never leave you alone in the apartment again!" he vowed.

"Nonsense!" said Lee, "This sort of thing isn't going to happen twice!"

"My friend wasn't sick at all. It was a fake call, Mr. Mappin."

"So Al told me," said Lee dryly. Lee could not help but believe Jermyn; his honesty was transparent. It was clear, however, that somebody else had furnished Mr. Al with advance information.

Loasby was astonished and outraged when he heard the story. "The fellow is a devil! a devil!" he cried.

"Well, after all he didn't do me any harm," said Lee; "though I confess it is rather humiliating to be kept a prisoner in your own house...Anyhow, I'm in this case up to my neck now, but I'm working with you, Inspector, not with Al Yohe."

"Good!" cried Loasby. "We'll soon collar him...What do you suggest, Mr. Mappin?"

"You must comb the town. We know the nature of his disguise now, and he's hardly likely to get up another as good. Every young man with a beard of any color should be detained for questioning."

"Sure. Somebody is keeping him under cover. Some woman."

"Undoubtedly." Though he knew he was doing wrong and suspected that it might very well get him into trouble with the police later, Lee simply could not bring himself to tell Loasby about the little wife and her baby.

After the excitement in the apartment house, Loasby insisted that they must give the story of Al Yohe's visit to the press. "They'll get a garbled version of it anyhow from those guys downstairs, and if the newspaper boys get the idea that we're holding out on them, they'll sour on us."

"I wouldn't care if they did," said Lee, "but I suppose it's important to you."

"Sure! Sure!" said Loasby seriously. "In a free country every public official has to keep in with the press."

So the story was given out. But not the whole story. They took care to omit all reference to Agnes Gartrey and her maid.

Lee gritted his teeth when he read it next morning. It put him in a ridiculous light with the public. Wounded thus in his professional pride, he hardened his heart anew against the beguiling Al Yohe. I'm going to bring him in, he vowed to himself, if I have to do it singlehanded!

Fanny and Judy received him demurely at the office. Neither of them made any reference to the story in the newspapers; they were waiting for Lee to speak about it. They fussed about him, with an added affectionateness and care to carry out his wishes. Lee would not speak about the newspaper story and that put the girls in a false position. Finally, Fanny was obliged to say:

"Pop, dear, I was horrified to read about what happened last night. I didn't like to speak of it because I thought it was a painful subject."

"Not at all!" said Lee. "I enjoyed my visitor thoroughly!"

Fanny looked at him, not quite knowing how to take this.

Just as he was beginning to think about lunch, Lee, to his astonishment, saw Robert Hawkins entering the outer office. The old man was greatly agitated. Fanny brought him into the private office. Hawkins took care to shut the door before stating his errand.

"Mr. Mappin, sir, an extraordinary thing has happened. It scares me, sir. I don't know what to make of it. I took the first train to New York to consult with you, sir."

"What is it?" asked Lee.

Hawkins produced an envelope and from it drew a credit note bearing the heading of the Girard National Bank. His hand trembled. "On Saturday morning, sir, somebody deposited five thousand dollars to my credit in the bank. My first knowledge of it was when I received this credit note in the mail this morning."

Lee, studying him, thought: If he has learned about my visit to the bank, this is exactly what a clever crook would do. He said: "You have no idea who it was?"

"No, sir! Who would give me five thousand dollars?"

"It does seem odd, doesn't it?"

"Five thousand dollars! It's a fortune! After a lifetime of work I have only succeeded in saving half that sum!"

If the old man's astonishment and consternation were faked, it was a good piece of acting. Lee made believe to take his story at face value. "Hawkins," he said, "this is an attempt to implicate you in the Gartrey murder!"

"That is what I feared, sir! What a blackguardly trick to play on an innocent man!"

"You have been to the bank?" asked Lee casually.

"Yes, sir! I was waiting when they opened their doors this morning. I asked if there wasn't some mistake, but they said no; the amount had been paid in in cash on Saturday morning."

"Whom did you see at the bank?"

"One of the vice presidents, sir, and he sent for the teller who had received the money."

Lee would have liked to know if the bank people had told Hawkins of his visit on Saturday. He did not put the question, for that would have been to show his hand. "Did the teller describe the man who deposited the money?" he asked.

"A handsome, fashionable young man. That suggested nothing to me, sir."

"Well, Hawkins," said Lee affably, "you did right in coming direct to me. It was without a doubt the actual murderer who had the money conveyed to you. Five thousand dollars is a biggish sum; it ought not to be too hard to trace it. This may lead us to the man we want."

"I pray that it may, sir!"

"Meanwhile, I don't suppose you want to use the money."

"Use it!" cried the old man in horror. "I wouldn't touch it with a pair of tongs!"

"Then I suggest that you make out a check to the order of the Police Commissioner to be held by him until the mystery is cleared up."

"I'll do that, sir. I have my checkbook with me. I'll leave the check with you."

"Good! That will clear your skirts."

Hawkins produced his checkbook and, drawing up a chair to Lee's desk, proceeded to write the check. Lee watched him steadily. It was a vast sum to an old man who had worked for wages all his life. If he felt any reluctance to hand it over, he hid it well. Handing over the check, he asked with an innocent air: "What should I do now, sir?"

"Go back to Philadelphia and act as if nothing had happened. Tell nobody about your windfall. We don't want the man we're looking for to take alarm."

"Very good, Mr. Mappin."

As soon as he had gone, Lee got Loasby on the wire. "The man you assigned to watch Robert Hawkins," he said; "can you depend on him?"

Loasby chuckled. "I reckon so. He followed Hawkins to the bank this morning, rode to New York on the train with him and tailed him to your office. My man was waiting in a store across the street while Hawkins was with you, and he phoned me from there."

"Very good," said Lee. "As an extra precaution, notify the bank in Philadelphia that if Hawkins should try to draw out more than the sum he deposited himself, he is to be detained for questioning."

"Right! What's up, Mr. Mappin?"

"I'm coming down to your office after lunch. I'll explain when I see you."

At Headquarters, when Lee had described the scene with Hawkins to Loasby, the latter said: "What do you make of it?"

"There are three possibilities," said Lee. He ticked them off on his fingers: "First, Al Yohe is the murderer and is trying to throw suspicion on Hawkins. Judging from what he told me, Al is well heeled. Second, Agnes Gartrey had the money conveyed to Hawkins to bolster up her suggestion that the butler is the guilty man. There are two sub-theories here: (a) it was Agnes herself who shot Gartrey, or (b) she believes that Al Yohe did it. Third, Hawkins shot Gartrey and the five thousand is his pay, or part of it. We have got to follow up all these lines simultaneously until they are disproved or proved."

"Right. What do you want me to do?"

"You have men who are experienced in Wall Street affairs investigating Gartrey's business relations?"

"Sure."

"Well, let them dig deeper. We've got to know who Gartrey had injured, who were his enemies, who profited by his death."

"Right."

"Here's something else you can do. Suppose for the moment that old Hawkins is telling the truth. Suppose Mrs. G. sent the money to Philadelphia. There are two men who have been trying to make time with her since this happened. One of them, Alan Barry Deane, we know has been lying. Arrange it so that the bank teller can have a look at Deane and at Rulon Innes without their knowing it."