Death out of Thin Air (27 page)

Woody's eyebrows went up under his hat. “Yeah. It is, but—”

“Keeler folded himself up in that,” Don said. “Left it open, maybe three inches or so and when Church came in and was staring at the body, Keeler, behind him, reached out, gave the door a push and said, ‘
See you later, Inspector.
' When Church whirled around all he saw was the door swinging to. And when he dashed out into the hall, Larry closed his filing cabinet the rest of the way like a turtle drawing into its shell. Simple as that.”

“Oh yeah?” Woody said skeptically. “The filing cabinet wasn't empty. It had letters and memos in it.”

“Larry could have taken them out, hid them in the wastebasket under some waste paper, and later, when he left, put them back.”

“Well—” Woody said doubtfully. Then he shook his head. “No. Too much is too much. Keeler may have been a dwarf, but he wasn't a blooming midget. He was four feet tall and he weighed a good ninety pounds. No filing cabinet, even an empty—”

“Filing cabinets,” Karl Hartz cut in, “are mostly about 12x12x24. That's 3456 cubic inches. I could almost squeeze into that space myself. It's just a matter of knowing the proper way to fold up. I built a trick for Thurston once in which we got a five-foot-six assistant into a 14x14x24 box. The audience saw it all the time, but it looked way too small to hold a man and they didn't give it a thought. They are still wondering where the man disappeared to. That was the whole secret of the trick. That guy weighed 137 pounds. That's 3900 cubic inches of man fitting into 4704 cubic inches of space. He was a wee bit cramped, but after I taught him how to fold, he did it twice a day. Keeler, in the filing cabinet, would have even more space to spare than—”

“Haven't you been around to see the new illusion in this week's stage show?” Don Diavolo asked. “Thirty girls from a cabinet the audience thinks is only big enough to hold nine.”

Woody saw that Karl was making a diagram on the back of an envelope. “Okay,” he said quickly. “I give in. But no more mathematics and no diagrams please. I'll take your word for it. You should know. So Half-pint stayed filed in the cabinet — under M, I suppose, for Monkeyshines and Magicians — until the room was clear. Then he hops out, leaves his first note about the Siva statue on the Inspector's hat and scrams.

“How did he get out of headquarters? Every exit was covered. Why didn't the cops notice an outsize little shrimp like him? They don't have dwarfs running in and out of headquarters every day. They were looking for something odd. He was.”

“They didn't see him,” Don replied, “because he did make himself invisible — or as close to it as possible. He was wearing a Western Union messenger's uniform. I found it in the room back there just now. And Western Union boys do run in and out of headquarters every day. So much so, nobody ever notices them. They're as good as invisible — like mailmen, doormen, milkmen, waiters, conductors—”

The Horseshoe Kid spoke up. “That explains how the Ziegler loot got into Gates' suitcase. Collins, playing the Gates role, carried Larry into the shop in the suitcase. The threat to steal the Siva statue from the museum across the street was a low down trick to get everyone's attention — especially that of Ziegler and his clerks — glued on the wrong spot.
²³

“Then Keeler pops out of the suitcase like a damned jack-in-the-box, cleans the safe and puts the loot in the grip. He was wearing his uniform. He hides behind the door. Ziegler and Gates return. Gates gets Ziegler's attention again, and Keeler steps out from behind the door, pretending to have just come through it. He hands Gates a wire, and walks out. If the clerks outside notice him they don't even think twice about it. It's sorta neat.”

Don Diavolo leaned forward, lifted the taxi-driver's cap, and took from under it a lighted cigarette. Then he growled in mock dismay. “I thought
I
was going to get asked to explain this case! I can't get a word in edgewise! Maybe you know-it-alls can tell me why Keeler and Gates took the sort of stuff they did from Ziegler's safe. Rare, priceless pieces of art, but a fence would give you more for old papers. Every single item was so well known it would have been as hot as six kinds of hell. And you can't take a jade cup or a rare book apart to prevent identification as you can with a diamond necklace.”

“That's easy,” Horseshoe replied. “You gave us that answer yourself, yesterday. You said that some collectors were so bats they'd buy stolen rarities, knowing they'd always have to keep them under cover. Belmont was that way. Great jumpin' catamounts! Of course —
he
was the bird who's behind the whole thing! He hired Keeler to swipe the stuff for him!”

“Yes,” Don said disgustedly. “And darned if I know why I bothered to figure it out with you masterminds on the job. Who solved this case anyway? Blast it!”

“I suppose you knew all along that Belmont was one of the niggers in the woodpile?” Woody gave Don an incredulous look.

“I did just as soon as that necklace vanished under our noses,” Don insisted. “Belmont was the only guy who could have taken it — and the only person Church didn't search!”

Woody wasn't listening. He snapped his fingers. “I've got it now. The reason for all this Invisibility business. It's as transparent as — as—”

“As an Invisible Man!” Don suggested glumly. “Well what? Let me in on it. I can't wait!”

“Ziegler,” Woody said, “had some things that Belmont wanted, but wouldn't sell him. So Belmont propositioned Keeler — hired him to swipe them. Keeler agreed, but he had to have help. A sawed-off half-pint like him couldn't head a gang of crooks. They'd have handed him an all day sucker and told him to climb back into his baby carriage.

“So he started by picking up Glenn who was down on his luck. Told him he had a job of acting, but didn't tell him what it was all about. Glenn played the Dr. Palgar part first, and got some nice publicity through the auto show for the Invisibility Machine that Keeler cooked up from an old magic illusion he knew about.

“Then Glenn stepped out of the Palgar part and vanished with the machine. It hit the papers. Big mystery. That's when Keeler recruited his gang. They thought they had an invisible man for a leader instead of a half-pint dwarf that they'd have laughed at. Psychology. The way he worked it, he put across the idea that he was visible only for a short time — during the meetings when he dished out orders.

“He worked behind Glenn's skirts there too. The rest of the time he was invisible and, for all they knew, watching every move they made. They didn't dare disobey any orders he gave out.”

“Inferiority complex,” Karl put in. “Larry's lack of height has always kept him from getting top-drawer bookings as a magician. He's always had a feeling that everyone laughs at him behind his back. He figured he'd have himself a quiet laugh at everyone else by outwitting all the cops in town, all the newspaper readers in the country, and make a monkey of the Great Diavolo to boot.”
²⁴

“And—” Don began, vainly, trying to put in his oar. But The Horseshoe Kid talked louder.

“That was the reason for the Great Necklace Robbery, then — to get the laugh on Don. But why did Belmont play along with him on that? Why'd Belmont swipe his own necklace? Don't make sense to me.”

Don Diavolo shrugged. “How would I know? You boys are doing the explaining.”

They were, too. “I can give a guess,” Woody grinned. “Belmont figured Ziegler would suspect him. But if he too were a victim of the Invisible Man, it would be a nice fat red herring across the trail. But say—” He turned to Don. “Larry did put it over on you just a bit, you know. You're the guy who sneaked the Invisible Man into Belmont's place in your suitcase, hoping
he'd
get an eyeful of something that would tell you who the Invisible Man was!”

Don grinned. “That's what he thought too. Belmont had intended to hide him in the house before the cops came; but when I suggested the suitcase stunt to Larry, he thought it was a swell joke on me. Trouble was, his joke backfired.

“It told me that he was The Invisible Man. A magician must never make a trick look too blamed impossible — his audience won't believe it. That was Larry's mistake. When we heard the voice and saw the door close, I knew Larry was the
only
person at Belmont's who could possibly have worked it. He was planted smack outside the door! It was as obvious as the Empire State building.

“He got out of the suitcase, listened to our conversation and, at the psychological moment, pushed the door open, spoke his little piece and then pulled the door to with a length of black thread. He was probably standing in the suitcase again by then.

“As soon as the door slammed, he ducked down and when Church got there, the hall was empty. Swell trick — but too impossible —
unless Keeley was the Invisible Man himself!
And now, you guys are so all-fired smart, tell me this: why were some of the objects that the gang found in Ziegler's safe, exact duplicates of those that were taken from his store?”

“They what—?” Woody exclaimed. “I don't get that.” The Horseshoe Kid and Karl both shook their heads.

“Gee thanks, fellows,” Diavolo said. “Nice of you to give me a chance. Ziegler was a collector like Belmont. He couldn't bear to sell some of the rare art objects he bought. But he had to make expenses so he made duplicates. He sold those and kept the originals. When Belmont's expert took a look at the Ziegler haul, Belmont discovered that some of the stuff was phony.

“So Larry got orders to have Glenn and the boys make a second try, at Ziegler's apartment this time — and he had them do the job while the Inspector and I were out watching the little show at Belmont's. More of Keeler's magician's misdirection. He was a good conjurer and he came within inches of being a first class criminal. Only, like a lot of amateur magicians and criminals, he put in a shade too much fancy work.”

“Whoa, there!” Woody exclaimed. “That doesn't hold water. Forgers fake paintings, books, autographed letters and such, but not jade cups, rock crystal crosses and medieval enameled reliquaries. It's too blamed much work and there are too many ways to get tripped up.”

“You forget who Ziegler was, Woody. The hot shot art expert. The guy whose business it was to know all the fine points of detecting forgeries. Collectors brought their things to him for an opinion. When he said they were authentic, that was the last word.

“The curator at the Indian Museum this morning told me that there was only one other expert in this country who has the rep that Ziegler has. He's a man who works for Belmont. That was why Ziegler didn't dare sell any of his forgeries to Belmont. That was the one place he might get caught out.”

“Um,” Woody said, thinking it over. “I'll take it. I guess that explains the works.”

“Not quite,” Horseshoe added. “Where was Keeler hiding out at Ziegler's place when they dumped you in the safe, Don?”

“In the desk. One of the lower drawers is a deep one — as large as the filing cabinet. He'd taken out the partitions. Collins was the only one of the gang who really knew who the Invisible Man was. And he worked the floating gun with the thread the same way I repeated it later for Inspector Church.”

Horseshoe said, “Concealed mikes around the room made his voice seem to come from different places just before that Invisible Machine exhibition just now, I suppose. Threads on the chair and another to float the cigarette. But what about the smoke that came from nothing? You don't manage that with threads — or mirrors or trapdoors.”

“He had two atomizers built into the top desk drawer,” Don said. “They pointed upward at a converging angle. One held hydrochloric acid, the other ammonia. They operated by a connection into the next room and when the invisible fumes shot upward and met in midair they formed smoke — sal ammoniac. That's one way any high school chemistry student knows.”

The taxi stopped before the Music Hall. Don Diavolo, Karl and the Horseshoe Kid got out. Woody Haines told the driver, “The New York
Press
building, my boy, and don't stop for red lights!”

Upstairs, Col. Ernest Kaselmeyer was still boiling. “If that blankety blank, blank-blank magician isn't here in just two blank minutes, he's through. I'll see that every blank booking office in town—”

The Colonel's arms suddenly shot skyward. Don Diavolo, still disguised as Scarface Mike was standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand. “Don Diavolo's a pal of mine, buddy. Yuh got dat? I don't wanna hear no more cracks like dem youse was just makin'. Unnerstan'?”

The Colonel eyed the gun nervously, gulped and nodded. Pat, Mickey and Chan blinked.

“Good,” Don said in his own voice. “Try to remember it.” He tossed the gun aside and went toward Pat and Mickey. “We got the Invisible Man,” he said. “It wasn't Glenn. He's in the hospital. Church winged him, but he'll be all right. I'm getting a lawyer for him and we'll spring him if he promises to keep out of trouble. He can put up a good defense on the grounds that Keeler framed him for a murder and forced him to follow through. You two can go see him after this show. Now get on stage — in your places.”

Don blinked as he got two kisses, one on each cheek. Then he grinned and ran for his dressing table. “Karl,” he called as he wiped away Scarface Mike's greasepaint, “go down and take a look at the skip on that center stage lift. It jammed a bit last night. Horseshoe, get Kaselmeyer out of here! He's blocking the doorway and I'm going to be using it. He loves blackjack. Take him away and give him a game. Deal him aces when he needs them. I'll foot your losses. Chan, get those rabbits down in the wings ready to go on!”

Not much more than five minutes later, Don Diavolo, the Scarlet Wizard took his entrance bow on the great stage and began producing rabbits from his red top hat.