ALM06 Who Killed the Husband? (5 page)

"So it was a woman!"

"She is much closer to Al Yohe than I could ever be--or wish to be. Would I be trying to help her if I wanted him myself?"

Lee shifted ground a little. "Am I to understand that this request for an interview comes from the woman or from Al himself?"

"From AL He wants nothing in the world so much as a chance to tell you his story."

"Do you know his story?"

"I do not, and neither does the person who came to me. Al will not tell it to anybody but yourself."

"Can't he write it?"

"He dare not trust it to paper."

"But if he told me his story I would have to carry it direct to the police."

"Al does not believe that you would do that after hearing his story, that is, not until you had conducted an investigation of your own. There are certain facts that have to be established. The truth is well hidden and he feels that only you can dig it up. It would be fatal to put it in the hands of the police."

Lee had recovered his good humor. "This is horribly tempting," he said. "My curiosity is at fever heat, but I must stick to the line I have adopted. Unless I play along with the police I might as well go out of business altogether."

"Then I am to send word that you refuse to see Al Yohe?"

"Unless there is a policeman present," said Lee, smiling.

"No good," said Fanny glumly. "He won't give himself up."

"And what's more," said Lee, "for your own sake I must urge you to play along with me. This is a dangerous business you're embarking in, my dear. Let the young fellow be arrested and you may rest assured that I will leave no stone unturned to discover the truth."

She shook her head. "That's your notion of the right thing to do; you must let me have mine. I couldn't betray the girl who trusts me. You can fire me if you like."

Lee was startled. "Bless your heart, I'm not going to fire you! But you mustn't tempt me any further. If I did right I would report this conversation to Inspector Loasby, but I'm going to stretch my conscience that far."

Fanny went out with her chin up.

Presently Lee taxied down to Headquarters. The moment Loasby caught sight of him he said bitterly:

"I see you've started your own investigation of the Gartrey case!" The handsome Inspector, owing to his failure to arrest Al Yohe, had been the target of biting criticism in the press. He was inordinately sensitive to criticism.

"To a certain extent," said Lee composedly, "but 
not
 at the behest of the lovely widow."

"What did she say to you?"

"Wanted to retain me in her interest at a big fee..."

"Some men have all the luck!"

"I declined the fee...The only thing she said that interested me was to suggest that Robert Hawkins was the murderer."

"Don't believe it! Hawkins is the only square shooter in the whole crooked bunch. What motive could he have had?"

"She suggested that some powerful enemy of Gartrey's had hired the butler to do away with his master."

Loasby considered this. "Well, it's worth looking into. It puts a new angle on the case."

"Keep it under your hat for the present," said Lee. "Will you let me talk to Hawkins before you take any action?"

Loasby glanced at him with suspicion in his eye.

"I have no interest in this matter except to satisfy my own curiosity," said Lee blandly; "and if I work with anybody it will only be with you...It won't be the first time."

The Inspector's face cleared. "Sure that's right, Mr. Mappin." Picking up a phone from his desk, he asked a subordinate for the address of Robert Hawkins, and when it came, repeated it to Lee. "147A Orthodox Street, Frankford, Philadelphia. Is known there under his right name. The landlady is Mrs. Quimby."

Lee made a note of it. "I'll run over to Philadelphia and report to you on my return."

Loasby said: "Hawkins doesn't know it, but I'm keeping him under surveillance, just in case anybody should try to bribe him to make a real disappearance. The story he tells is very unpleasing to Al Yohe's friends."

"Quite," said Lee.

At the address on Orthodox Street some two hours later, Lee found an old-fashioned rooming house. The door was opened to him by a decent body who looked as if she might belong to the Quaker meeting house across the road.

"Is Mr. Hawkins home?"

"I'll see, sir."

"I won't trouble you to climb the stairs," said Lee. "Just tell me which is his room and I'll go up." There was nothing about Lee's natty little person to arouse a landlady's suspicions. "Two flights up, sir. Front hall room."

Lee knocked on the door and an agreeable voice bade him come in. The narrow room was shabby, comfortable and clean. The tenant, an elderly man, clean-shaven, was sitting by the window, reading. From old habit, Lee glanced first at the title of his book: 
The Life of Andrew Jackson
. Hawkins hastily put the book down and rose, removing his glasses. He was tall and well made; his expression mild and benignant.

"I beg your pardon, sir. I thought it was the maidservant."

English, obviously, an old family servant whose beautiful manners had no trace of obsequiousness. This is very flattering to the masters. Lee could not help but feel drawn to Hawkins. He reminded himself that the perfect butler is the product of art, not of nature. After forty years of butlering, it would be impossible for an observer to tell what was really passing through a butler's mind.

"Do you know me?" asked Lee. "If you do, it will save explanations."

"Your face is familiar, sir, but I can't quite place it."

"Amos Lee Mappin."

The old man's eyes widened in surprise. "Mr. Map-pin! Indeed, sir, I know you well by reputation."

"Then you know I'm not a mere curiosity seeker. The New York police furnished me with your address. I want to talk to you about the Gartrey case."

"Please to be seated, Mr. Mappin." He insisted on Lee's taking the comfortable chair by the window; himself remained standing.

"Sit down," urged Lee. "You are not in service now."

Hawkins sat in a plain chair beside the washstand.

"I will assume," said Lee, "that your story as reported in the newspapers was substantially correct. You need not repeat it but just answer my questions. At three o'clock last Monday afternoon Mr. Yohe came to see Mrs. Gartrey and you let him in."

"Yes, sir. I couldn't swear to the exact hour."

"It doesn't matter. Was he expected?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Gartrey had told me to bring him direct to her bou...her sitting room."

Lee did not miss the slip. "Her boudoir?"

"Yes, sir. That is what we called the room. But I have noticed in the United States that boudoir is taken to mean a bedroom, and I do not wish to convey a misapprehension. It was Mrs. Gartrey's private sitting room where she received her friends."

Lee smiled at the old man's conscientiousness. "I do not misapprehend you, Hawkins. Had he visited her before?"

Hawkins looked distressed. "Yes, sir, I am obliged to tell the truth. Many times, sir."

"Were they lovers?"

The old butler was shocked. "How should I know, sir?"

"Well, what is your opinion? Understand this is just for my information, not for the record."

"If my opinion is of any value to you, sir, I should say no. The young man's bearing was not that of a lover."

"And the lady's?"

"She was infatuated with him, sir. But saving myself, no one would be likely to have perceived it. I have lived a long time and have seen much."

"Is it your opinion, Hawkins, that Mr. Yohe shot Mr. Gartrey?"

"No, indeed, sir!" came the prompt reply. "I cannot conceive of his doing such a thing! It is a great grief to me that I am forced to give what appears to be damaging testimony against Mr. Yohe. Such a merry young gentleman! Every servant in the house was devoted to him. He didn't treat us like inferior beings, but as his friends. He has a good heart, sir."

"Hm!" said Lee, stroking his chin. This was not the sort of answer he had expected; it didn't fit any of the possible theories. It annoyed him. "And your master," he asked dryly, "were you attached to him?"

"I could hardly say that, sir. Mr. Gartrey was a very reticent man; he never, so to speak, unbent."

"And Mrs. Gartrey?"

"A good mistress, Mr. Mappin; fair, and I may say, liberal. But hardly to arouse any warmth of feeling, if you know what I mean. She wouldn't have liked it."

"What were the relations between master and mistress?"

"Always polite, sir."

"Friendly?"

"Not exactly to say friendly, sir, but they never quarreled before the servants."

"In these situations it is necessary to speak plainly, Hawkins. Did they sleep together?"

"No, sir."

"Did other gentlemen come to see Mrs. Gartrey?"

"Oh, yes, sir, many gentlemen."

"Hawkins, can you be certain that there was no other gentleman in the apartment on Monday when Mr. Gartrey was shot?"

"Absolutely, sir. Why, how could he have got in without our knowing it, or the elevator man, or the boys in the hall downstairs?"

Lee spread out his hands. Realizing that he wasn't getting very far, he changed his line. "Hawkins, is the Gartrey apartment a duplex?"

"No, sir; all the rooms are on the same level."

"Where is the boudoir?"

"Facing the avenue in the bedroom wing, sir. There is a door from the foyer into the bedroom corridor and in the corridor it's the first door on your right."

"Can you draw me a rough plan?"

"Certainly, sir." Hawkins procured pencil and paper and presently offered the result for Lee's inspection. "In the bedroom wing, you see, sir, there are three rooms on the front. They constitute Mrs. Gartrey's suite; boudoir, dressing room and bedroom. Mr. Gartrey's bedroom and his study are across the corridor."

"Now, to return to Monday," said Lee, "after you had shown Mr. Yohe into the boudoir where did you go?"

"I returned to the pantry, sir. Monday afternoon is my time for polishing the silver. I was not interrupted at it until I heard the muffled shot in the foyer. You see, there was a hallway with a door between."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I wasn't sure that it was a shot. No other sounds followed. I listened for a moment or two, then I wiped my hands, took off my baize apron, put on my coat and started for the hall leading to the foyer. Before I reached it, Mr. Yohe appeared in the opening. I said: 'Is there anything wrong, sir?' He didn't answer me. He looked very wild. Perhaps he didn't hear. Crossing the pantry, he went on out to the service door and disappeared through it."

"You made no attempt to stop him?"

"No, sir. I only kept asking what was the matter. I was dumbfounded!"

"What about his hat and coat?"

"Hat on his head, overcoat over his arm, sir."

Lee considered. "Hawkins," he said, "if you stopped to listen, to take off your apron and put on your coat, a minute or so must have passed since the shot was fired."

"Yes, sir."

"What do you suppose Yohe was doing during that minute? He seems to have been in a powerful hurry since he forgot the gun."

"That has occurred to me, sir. It seems as if Mr. Yohe could not have been in the foyer when the shot was fired. Of course, he had to pick up his hat and coat, but that was right at hand. That wouldn't have taken a minute."

"When he came through the door from the foyer, did he have gloves on--or one glove?"

"No, sir, both his hands were bare."

"Could you swear to that?"

"Positively, sir."

"He had gloves with him?"

"Yes, sir. I had seen them in the pocket of his topcoat when I took it. Presumably they were still there."

"Well, that's a point in his favor."

Hawkins looked pleased.

"You then ran into the foyer?" Lee continued.

"Yes, sir. But I lost a minute or two. I first ran after Mr. Yohe, begging him to tell me what was the matter. I followed him out to the service stairs. He ran down the stairs. I went back to the foyer."

"Describe what you saw."

The old man was agitated now. His lip trembled, he paused to pass a handkerchief over his face. Recovering himself, he said: "My master was lying at full length on the floor just inside the entrance door. He was lying partly on his right side and there was a bullet hole in his left temple. He had been killed instantly and he did not bleed much. His latchkey was in his right hand; his hat had rolled away in front of him. The gun lay about two yards from the body."

"On which side?"

"Toward the front of the building; that is to say, near the opening into the music room." Hawkins illustrated on his plan.