ALM06 Who Killed the Husband? (15 page)

"While the door was standing open between the boudoir and the dressing room, what did Mr. Yohe and your mistress talk about? You could hear that part?"

A look of fright came into Eliza's eyes; apparently this was outside her lesson. She recovered herself quickly. "You must be mistaken, Mr. Mappin. Madam did not go into the dressing room until after Mr. Yohe left the apartment."

Lee let it pass. "Did you have warning of Mr. Gartrey's return?" he asked.

Eliza stared. "I don't understand you, Mr. Map-pin."

"The other day when I was sitting in the boudoir," said Lee mildly, "I could hear the sound of the elevator door opening and closing on the other side of the wall."

"We could hear nothing," said Eliza sullenly, "because the door from the dressing room into the corridor was closed."

Notwithstanding her prim airs, Eliza loved whisky and apparently had not often tasted any so good as Lee's. A tinge of pink crept into her pale cheeks and her tongue became nimbler. When Lee placed a third highball on the stand beside her, she affected not to notice what he was doing. In the end it was a simple remark of Lee's about Jules Gartrey that loosened the curb on her tongue. After that Lee had only to sit back and listen.

"A hard man, Mr. Mappin; a hard man! Inhuman! Nobody could get along with him because he was so suspicious. He believed that everybody was trying to wrong him. He looked on all servants as thieves. It is no wonder that his two previous wives left him in spite of all his riches."

"Only one wife left him," Lee pointed out mildly. "Well, the other died," said Eliza.

"My mistress was an angel the way she tried to placate him and to hide his bad temper from others..."

Lee smiled inwardly at the thought of Agnes in the role of angel.

"Always so polite and good-tempered with him, deferring to all his whims. He was never satisfied. And, of course, no servant could please him. Though the servants worshiped the mistress, they were always leaving because they could not stand him. I have been there the longest and I hope to stay with the Madam until I retire from service. She says she wants me to. Of course, as Madam's own maid he had very little to do with me. I kept out of his way as well as I could, but even that put him in a temper. He said that I failed to show him proper respect and that Madam should discharge me. She refused. It was the only time I ever knew her to oppose him..."

Lee, listening to this farrago, wondered how the belief had gained credence that the truth always came out when whisky loosened the tongue.

"Oh, Mr. Mappin, nobody would ever believe what my madam had to put up with from that man! You could tell the moment you entered the apartment whether he was home or not. All day we would be so happy and peaceful, and when he came home in the afternoon a blight would fall on the house. He would always ring the bell and then open the door with his latchkey. When we heard that sound our hearts would sink. That day I didn't hear the bell but only the sound of the latch and then, right away...a shot in the foyer! I will never forget that moment! I was tidying up Madam's dressing table..."

So Agnes had finished dressing, then! Lee's face gave no sign.

Eliza, unaware of the slip she had made, plunged on. "I was tidying up Madam's dressing table, and I stopped dead in my tracks. My first thought was of her and I ran out into the corridor..."

"So she had left you," put in Lee mildly.

Eliza realizing then where her tongue had led her, was transfixed with terror. "No, no, no," she stammered. "She was right there in the dressing room with me."

"Then what did you mean by saying your first thought was of her?"

"I mean...I mean, I thought there was an assassin, a madman loose in the house and I wanted to save her from him."

Lee affected to believe her. "So you ran out into the foyer with the idea of grappling with him?"

"Yes, sir. That was what was in my mind. But I didn't get far because she called me back to her and we clung to each other like two sisters! And my madam said: 'Eliza, we've got to go out there..."

From that point Eliza recited her lesson to the end without any slips. Lee preserved a bland face. "Drink up," he said amiably. "It is so distressing to recall these things."

Eliza shook her head. She was still trembling at the narrowness of her escape. She could not be persuaded to touch the glass again.

"When you and Mrs. Gartrey finally got out into the foyer, what did you see?" he asked.

"Hawkins was kneeling beside the body, Mr. Map-pin."

"Did he appear to be agitated?"

"Not to say agitated, Mr. Mappin. He was cool enough. But there was a horrible look in his face. There was murder in it."

Lee got no more out of her. He had no desire as yet to corner the woman. First satisfy himself as to the truth of what had happened was his plan, then go after the evidence. In the meantime, Eliza and, more particularly, Agnes Gartrey, must not be put on their guard.

When Eliza finally rose to go, she drank off the rest of the highball, feeling that she was then safe. Lee rang for Jermyn to show her out.

"It was very good of you to come to me tonight, Miss Eliza. I trust you will accept this trifle for your trouble."

Eliza was not at all abashed. "I thank you kindly, Mr. Mappin," she said, slipping the folded bill in her glove.

Lee rubbed his hands when she had gone. He felt that he was making a bit of progress. Agnes had been fully dressed when the shot was fired. This bore out Al Yohe's story. And, what was more, the two women were 
not
 together at the moment when Jules Gartrey met his end.

Chapter 12

Inspector Loasby came into Lee's apartment with a heavy, downcast air, and dropped on a sofa. Lee made haste to mix him a highball.

"Fetch another bottle of Scotch, Jermyn," he said cheerfully.

Loasby said with a groan, "I have three hundred men on the case, Mr. Mappin, besides the help of the uniformed force. Since one o'clock the town has been combed from the Battery to Kingsbridge and we have not turned up a single clue as to that ----'s whereabouts. Some other woman is hiding him now, I suppose. He seems to hypnotize them!"

"Women love to aid a fugitive," said Lee. "It's something we have to reckon with."

"If it should ever get out how close I was to Al today and how he slipped through my fingers, it would break me, Mr. Mappin," mourned Loasby. "You must help me!"

"But you said there were no clues."

"Can't you dope out something?"

"I'm not a magician, Inspector. He's a clever fellow. He will probably do the last thing we would expect him to do."

"You might be able to get something out of Charlotte."

"Excuse me. I'm not going to try to induce a wife to betray her husband...Look, Inspector, to drop Al Yohe for a minute or two, I'm a little anxious about old Hawkins in Philadelphia." Lee hastily sketched the scene with Eliza Young earlier in the evening. "It is on the cards that they might try to get the old fellow in order to save Yohe. Are you in touch with the man who is watching Hawkins?"

"Sure, I've got two men spotting him; Besson and O'Mara. I can communicate with them any time."

"I suggest you call them up now."

Loasby called a number in Philadelphia. In a moment or two, he got the small hotel in the suburb of Frankford that served his two men as headquarters. Besson was asleep upstairs, he was told, and O'Mara was out on the job. He held the wire while they sent up to waken Besson. When he got his man, Loasby said:

"Besson, I've had a tip that the people who are trying to clear Al Yohe may try to rub out old Hawkins to keep him from testifying. In addition to watching Hawkins, therefore, your job and O'Mara's is to protect the old man from possible danger. He should be on his guard against strangers."

After listening to Besson's answer, Loasby repeated it to Lee. "Besson says that will be easy because he has scraped acquaintance with the old man, who now looks on him as his friend."

Lee said: "Why don't you suggest that Besson or O'Mara or both of them should take a room at Mrs. Quimby's if there's a vacancy."

Loasby did so. "I want you to get in touch with O'Mara now," he added. "Find out what the situation is tonight and report back to me." He gave Besson the number of Lee's telephone.

Lee made up the fire and they resumed their discussion of Al Yohe's possible whereabouts.

"At the moment I can't suggest anything but routine measures," said Lee. "You must go deeper into the question of who were Al's closest associates. When he was left out in the air today, he would have to go direct to somebody he could trust."

"I have it in hand," grumbled Loasby. "Trouble is more than half the people in cafe society claim to be Al's intimate friends."

After twenty minutes had passed, the telephone rang. This was detective officer O'Mara who, as soon as Besson relieved him, had sought out the nearest telephone to report. Loasby held the receiver away from his ear so that Lee could hear what he said.

"About six o'clock this evening, old Hawkins came out of the house and proceeded to a little restaurant on Frankford Avenue. He met a young fellow at the door. Hawkins seemed surprised when the young fellow spoke. They went in and had dinner together. When they came out they were real friendly."

"Describe the young man," said Loasby.

"About twenty-five years old, Chief. Five foot eleven in height, weight 170, slender and well built. Wore a gray suit, a tan topcoat and a gray fedora. His clothes looked new but cheap material. Black hair, fresh color, blue eyes. Wore glasses with thick lenses that gave him a funny squint."

"Sounds as if it might be our Al with his hair dyed," murmured Lee dryly.

"Was it Al Yohe?" Loasby sharply demanded. "Why, no, Chief," came the startled answer. "Have you ever seen Al Yohe?"

"No, but I studied his photographs plenty. This couldn't a been him, Chief." Nevertheless, the voice did not sound altogether positive.

"Go on," said Loasby.

"After dinner they come back and went in Mrs. Quimby's together and the light went on in old Hawkins' room, third floor, front hall. The young man stayed a couple of hours. At nine o'clock the light went out in Hawkins' room and a minute later the young man come out of the house and turned in the direction of Frankford Avenue. I followed him long enough to see him go up the steps of the Elevated and then I returned to my post."

Lee's face had turned as grim as stone. "
The light went out before the young man left the house!
" he murmured. "Instruct O'Mara to return to Mrs. Quimby's immediately and investigate." Loasby gave the order and hung up.

Thoroughly alarmed now, there was nothing to do but wait for a further report. Loasby poured himself a stiff drink; Lee paced the long room with his hands behind him. Both men became aware simultaneously of the loud ticking of the ormolu clock on the mantel. A tug whistled in the river below like the blast of doom, and they both started. Utter silence followed.

In the end they heard Jermyn's voice in the distant pantry as he answered the call. Loasby snatched up the instrument without waiting for the bell.

"Hello? Hello?"

He held the receiver away from his ear and Lee heard O'Mara's lugubrious voice saying: "You didn't warn us soon enough, Chief. A terrible thing has happened. Old Hawkins is dead. Poison in his whisky. Bottle and glass are standing on his bureau, also the rest of the poison. No label on the bottle. There's been an attempt to make it look like suicide. A scrawling pencil note on the bureau as if he was already dying when he wrote it. It says:

I can't stand it any longer. I have drunk poison. It was me who killed Jules...

"He started to write Gartrey but didn't get any further than G-a. The paper was under his forehead as if he had fallen forward on it while writing. The pencil was placed as if it had just fallen from his hand. But the killer slipped badly when he put out the light because the old fellow couldn't have been writing in the dark, of course. He has been dead a couple of hours."

"Is the lodging house aroused?" asked Loasby.

"Oh, my God, yes, and people gathering in the street already."

"Is Besson with you?"

"I have sent for him, Chief."

"I'll come right down. I'll get a plane. Notify the Philadelphia police. Don't let them disturb anything until I have had a look at it."

"Okay, Chief."

Loasby hung up. The two men looked at each other. "My God, I am cursed with fools!" Loasby cried bitterly. "At nine o'clock both those men should have been on the job. Then one of them could have followed the killer!"

Lee, lost in a grim study, was not interested in what might have been.

"A stupid crime!" cried Loasby, thumping the table. "Nobody will profit by it."

"As it has turned out, yes," said Lee. "Under other circumstances it might not have had such a stupid look. I don't see how Hawkins could have taken up so readily with a man he didn't know. We must look into that. Notice that the killer avoided going to Mrs. Quimby's to ask for Hawkins. When the two of them returned to Mrs. Quimby's, Hawkins opened the door with his key and the chances are that nobody in the house saw the killer, either coming or going. Note that he was clever enough to break off the suicide note before he came to the signature. If he had not put out the light, and if O'Mara had not happened to be watching from across the street, it would have been accepted as a suicide."