West of Guam (49 page)

Lemere said hoarsely. “Of course, Señor Gar.”

Jo Gar nodded. “Then I shall not bother with the servant, Gao,” he said quietly. “I shall walk about the grounds a bit.”

Sadi Ratan said with sarcasm: “Perhaps you will find the gun that was used, Señor.”

The Island detective nodded. “In that event I will show it to you immediately, Lieutenant,” he said very softly. “I will call to you.”

The lieutenant of Manila police said nastily:

“And if I do not answer your call, it will be because I am busy talking with Delancey’s murderer.”

“Or because you are busy talking with the one you think is Delancey’s murderer,” Jo said gently.

The servants were quartered in a small, wooden building in the growth behind the house; when Jo heard the voice of Ratan and Lemere grow faint, as they went towards the Pasig, he walked to a screened window and looked towards Oriental Road. It was a narrow dirt road, and there was little traffic on it. After a short time he went up the stairs and into the curio room again. He spent some time inspecting the wall surface where the mask had hung. The coroner had not yet arrived; even the act of handling the dead was not hurried in the tropics.

Jo Gar said very softly:

“Lemere has a good memory, but important thoughts occur to him only when he has been pushed. He did not notice the mask was gone until he was told of something being missing. He did not remember that this Gao was a thief or that he had been beaten, until he had been told by Ratan that the servant had lied. And yet, he says that he has a perfect alibi—and I believe him. Why then, does he attempt to throw suspicion—”

He stopped talking softly; his ears had caught the sound of a creaking board. It had been a very little sound, but he knew instantly that it had been made by a bare foot. Someone was coming up the stairs.

Jo moved swiftly and silently towards a large shield leaning against the wall near the couch on which the body rested. The shield was of wood, and appeared to be a tribal protection against spears. It was painted in gaudy colors, crudely, and was almost as tall as Jo. The room was dimly lighted—and the light was at the opposite end; little of it fell upon the spear shield behind which Jo crouched.

He could see the doorway, though his body was in shadow and his face was so brown that there was little danger of his being seen. He guessed that whoever was coming up the stairs had made a mistake—had thought the three of them had left the house.

Seconds passed, with Jo Gar breathing very quietly and holding his body motionless. He commenced to think that no human was coming up. The house was of wood, and all wood in the Islands was constantly attacked by ants and was rotting. The creaking sound might not have been caused by a footfall. But he remained quiet and waited. A minute passed, and the greater portion of another. Still Jo did not move.

And then a figure was in the doorway. It did not pause there or inspect the room. It passed swiftly inside and moved towards the shield.

Jo Gar recognized the house-boy when he was ten feet or so from the shield.

He was not Gao, the dead man’s servant. He was Tanyo, the one who had greeted the Island detective, had let him into the house. Lemere’s house-boy!

The Chinese was out of Jo’s vision now, but Jo could hear his quick breathing. There was a little scraping sound, and then the sound of foot-falls, very light. The house-boy was moving rapidly towards the doorway; he went through it and vanished from sight. Going down the stairs he was very careful, but once again there was the creaking sound, fainter this time.

The Island detective remained quiet for perhaps thirty seconds. Then he moved from behind the spear shield, stood up straight. His eyes widened, then grew very narrow. He walked cross the room and stood looking at the Javanese mask.

It hung on the nail, and it was as Lemere had described it. A red, black, and gold, eye-staring demon mask. The sculpture was good; the wood looked soft. Jo did not touch it. He turned slowly and looked towards the covered body of Delancey. He was frowning.

After a few seconds he went very quietly from the room and down the stairs. He descended by using every other step, and he was lucky. There was no creaking sound beneath his weight. In the living-room he stood by a screened window that was at the front of the house and tried to reason it out.

He was sure that Lemere had wanted him to leave the house with them, for the talk with Gao. He did not leave and Lemere was not able to warn Tanyo. That was one idea—that Tanyo had obeyed the instructions of his master. But the reason for returning the mask was not clear, nor was the reason for removing it in the first place, if Lemere had done so.

The Island detective shook his head. He said: “No,” very softly. After a few seconds he went to a screened door that led from the room to the patio at the rear, opened it and then slammed it shut, without leaving the room. He coughed several times, and lighted one of his brown-paper cigarettes. In another room he heard movement and the sound of water running.

He thought: Tanyo returned the mask for Gao. They are both Chinese. Tanyo realized that the other house-boy was suspected. Gao had stolen some things, among them the mask. Lemere may have known the mask was missing, or he may not have noticed it until I called his attention to it. That gave him the idea—and he stated that he had seen it on the wall during his quarrel with Delancey. But he really thought that Gao had it, and that Gao would be seriously involved.

The Island detective sighed and said again: “No.”

He did not think that Lemere had murdered Delancey, but he had a strong feeling that the Frenchman was hiding something. He heard a wailing voice in the distance and guessed that Sadi Ratan was using severe methods on the house-boy, Gao. Raising his voice, he called:

“Tanyo!”

After a few seconds there were light foot falls and Lemere’s servant came into the room. His face was expressionless now; the fright had gone from his eyes. Jo Gar smiled at him, and spoke softly.

“A murder is a very serious thing, Tanyo,” he said. “Many facts must be learned. When you left the house with Monsieur Lemere you saw the
Americano?”

Lemere’s house-boy said: “Yes—him very mad. Him stand at top of stairs and damn Monsieur. Monsieur—him say no talk. Him very mad, too, but him say no talk. We go.”

The Island detective nodded. He asked questions about where they went and learned the places. They were away from the house two hours and forty minutes, but at all times they were together. Jo said: “It was very hot, after
siesta
time. Monsieur Lemere—he had no drink?”

The Chinese boy nodded. “He had drink—with much ice. We all have same drink—him good.”

Jo Gar smiled. “You had drinks together?” he asked. “Where?”

Tanyo said: “At the drink place of Montanya, off the Escolta, not long way from—”

The Island detective interrupted quietly. “I know the place,” he said. “That is all.”

Tanyo turned away from him. Voices sounded—the voices of Lemere and Sadi Ratan. Jo lighted another cigarette from the tip of the shortened one. Tanyo went from the room as a screen door slammed at the rear of the house. Ratan said loudly:

“He will talk much, and tell the truth—when we have taken him to the station. Major Kelvey would have it done that way. In his absence I will—”

He stopped talking as he entered the living-room and frowned at Jo Gar. The Island detective smiled pleasantly.

“You found the Javanese mask?” he asked.

Lemere shook his head. “But this Gao acts guilty,” he breathed. “You know what this is likely to be—Gao did the killing, damn him—but we’ll never be able to prove it. I doubt that he’ll confess or break down. Poor Gerry.”

The Island detective spoke very quietly. “I did not find the gun, Lieutenant Ratan.”

Sadi Ratan smiled nastily. “Of course not,” he muttered. “And as for the missing mask—”

Jo said: “It is missing no longer. It hangs on the nail in the curio room, from which it was taken.”

Lemere’s big body swung towards him; the Frenchman’s eyes were wide, staring. He was breathing quickly and the fingers of his large hands were twitching. Sadi Ratan said:

“The Javanese mask—is back in the room?”

Jo said: “Yes—it was returned while you were questioning Gao.” Lemere breathed: “Good God! Why?”

Sadi Ratan went swiftly from the living-room and up the stairs.

Lemere stood motionless except for the twitching of his fingers.

Jo said softly: “You would really like to know why the mask was removed, then returned, Monsieur Lemere?”

The Frenchman stared at him, then nodded. The Island detective said:

“The mask had not been hanging from the nail for perhaps a week. You did not see it there when you quarreled with Delancey. You did not even think of the mask, until I suggested that something had been taken. And when I said that—you thought I believed it. You saw an opportunity, and you did not tell me the truth. There was not so much dust on the spot from which the mask been taken as on the other uncovered spots of the wall, but there was some dust. Quite a bit. More than could possibly get there in a few hours’ time. Or in a day’s time.”

Lemere said: “Nonsense.”

Jo Gar spoke again, very softly. “You did not go from here to find another place to live, this afternoon, after the quarrel. You pretended that was the reason, and you took the servants with you. You kept them with you—even drinking with them at Montanya’s place—a place not usually visited by one of your station. Nor does one of your position ordinarily drink with servants—he goes to one place and the servants to another. But you did it the other way because you were in need of a perfect alibi—you must not be alone during those two hours and forty minutes, Monsieur Lemere.”

Lemere said in his hoarse voice “You are telling me that I murdered Gerry Delancey—”

Jo said: “You know that I am not telling you that. You were not in the house when the American was murdered. And I think that you are aware of the fact that this house-boy of his, Gao, will have as good an alibi as you and your house-boy and cook have. You do not want Gao to suffer for a crime you know he did not commit.”

Lemere said sharply: “I know nothing of the sort. You’re talking—” The Island detective said gently: “You have just said that you did not believe this Gao would confess or be broken down. It is your idea that this murder should be unsolved, even though you have sent for me, and are apparently working with the police.”

Lemere laughed harshly, bitterly. “I never heard such rot in my life. I never—”

Jo’s gray-blue eyes were growing small. “Tanyo is your servant, and faithful to you. He returned the mask, which you had somewhere in the house. He thought I was with you and the lieutenant, as you had planned for me to be. I saw him return the mask. I think that you wanted Lieutenant Ratan and myself to believe that Gao had stolen it, had become frightened, and had returned it. You wanted to implicate Gao, but not to convict him—”

Lieutenant Ratan came into the room, holding the Javanese mask between two fingers that were handkerchief covered. He said to Lemere:

“This is the missing mask—the one that was missing?” Lemere said unsteadily: “Yes.”

Sadi Ratan smiled narrowly. “It will show the fingerprints of Gao, I think. He returned it, or had it returned by one of the other servants, because he was frightened. Delancey probably caught him in the act of stealing it, they fought, and the
Americano
was killed. Gao has hidden the gun, but he did not hide this. He thought that to return it would confuse us all the more. Or perhaps he did not think it had been missed and was afraid it might be.”

Jo Gar smiled at Lemere. “You see?” he said. His voice was very calm. “You were correct when you told me you had sent for me because the police bungle so much.”

Sadi Ratan swore in his native tongue. The Island detective said very slowly:

“I will tell you what you did, Lemere. You had quarreled much with Delancey lately. You felt that he was ruining the business in which you were partners. You did not murder him—nor did you have him murdered. But you knew that death was close to Delancey, and you made that death simpler. You left him alone, and he was murdered. You know who murdered him, but you have attempted to protect that murderer and to implicate a servant you did not think could be convicted. Death for Delancey means that you will control the business—where a separation would mean that one would have to buy the other out, or the business would be split up. You saw death coming—and you stood aside.”

Lemere’s eyes were slits. Sadi Ratan muttered something that the Island detective failed to catch. Lemere said shakily:

“You don’t know anything about our business arrangements, Gar—you don’t know that his death means control of all of it for me.”

Jo smiled a little. “I can find out,” he said simply. “I think that is just—what it means.”

There was a little silence. Lemere’s big body was swaying a little. He breathed heavily and kept his eyes on the gray-blue ones of Jo. The Island detective said:

“Who fired those two bullets—who murdered your partner, Lemere?”

The big Frenchman said heavily: “Damn you—I don’t know!”

But fear showed in his eyes now. Jo Gar saw it, and Sadi Ratan saw it. The Island detective said:

“That is true, you do not know. You were not here to see. But who did you expect would kill Delancey, Lemere?”

The Frenchman shook his head savagely from side to side. His lips were wet and his nerve was breaking. He had done a terrible thing, in stepping aside, and he knew it. Jo Gar said quietly:

“I doubt that you would now be protecting a man. I think Delancey was murdered with a small caliber gun held in the hand of a woman—”

The big man screamed fiercely. “No—for ——’s sake, Gar—no! I’ll tell you the truth. The servants lied, and I lied. I left them in town, across the Pasig. I came back here—”

Jo Gar said: “No, please. You have lied, but do not lie again. You did not murder Delancey. Who was the woman—”

The big man made a swift movement with his right hand. Sadi Ratan cried out: “Stop!” Jo Gar moved his body swiftly to the left and ripped his own automatic from a pocket of his duck trousers. There was crashing sound in the room—once, twice. Smoke curled from the gun as it slipped from Lemere’s creased fingers, but the bullet had gone wide of the Island detective.