Charlie Chan [4] The Black Camel

by Earl Derr Biggers

  “Good evening. I am so sorry to be here. Not until this moment have I encountered the pleasant thrill of seeing you. Would you mind informing me just who you are?”

  Bradshaw came forward. He introduced Julie to Chan, and went on to explain the girl’s place in the household.

  “My heart’s deepest sympathy,” Charlie remarked. “As mere matter of form, I must ask about your actions during this most tragic evening.”

  “I can tell you all about that,” Bradshaw informed him, “and kill two birds - oh, sorry - I mean to say, give you my own story at the same time. I arrived at the house early for a swim with Miss O’Neill. The last time we saw Miss Fane was in this room when we came down dressed for the water - that was about seventy-forty. She was here with Mr. and Mrs. Ballou, and Mr. Jaynes.”

  “You went immediately to the beach?”

  “We did - and on into the water. It was marvelous - pardon me if I put in a small advertisement for the local bathing beach. What I mean to say is, Miss O’Neill and I were together from the time we saw Miss Fane until about eight-thirty, when Jessop rang the gong calling us in. It was soon after that we made our unhappy discovery.”

  “You remained in water at all times?”

  “Oh, no - we came back to the beach now and then. Mrs. Ballou was there from the start, as she says. Mr. Ballow disappeared toward the last and Mr. Van Horn showed up.”

  “At two minutes past eight, then, you and Miss Julie were either in water or making brief excursion to shore?”

  “One or the other - we had no means of knowing the time, of course. It went very quickly. We were surprised when Jessop called us in.”

  Chan turned to the girl. “Miss Fane was wearing tonight pretty nice bouquet of orchids on shoulder?”

  Julie nodded. “Yes.”

  “Fastened with pin, no doubt?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you by any chance note the pin?”

  “No, I didn’t. But I remember her saying she was going to her room to get one. Perhaps her maid can tell you about that.”

  “Are you in position to know who it was sent those orchids?”

  “I am,” Julie replied. “There was no name, but Miss Fane recognized the writing on the card. She said they came from her ex-husband, Bob somebody - he’s an actor playing with a stock company in Honolulu.”

  “Bob Fyfe,” explained Rita Ballou. “He’s in the company down at the Royal. They were married when Shelah was quite young, and I believe she was always very fond of him, even after their divorce.”

  Alan Jaynes rose and, taking a small cigar from a case, lighted it, then walked nervously about the room, seeking a place to throw the match.

  “A discarded husband,” mused Charlie. “Ah, yes, I would expect at least one of those. This man should be notified at once, and arrive here with all speed possible.”

  “I’ll attend to it, Charlie,” offered Jimmy Bradshaw.

  “Warmest thanks,” Chan remarked. As the boy left the room, he turned to the others. “We now resume somewhat rude questioning. Mr. Van Horn, you are actor, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps?” laughed Van Horn. “Well, that’s flattering. The reward of ten years’ hard work.”

  “You have, then, been in Hollywood for the past ten years?”

  “Ten years and a half - lost in what the amiable Mr. Mencken calls the sewers of Hollywood.”

  “And before that?”

  “Oh, before that I led a most romantic life - ask my press-agent.”

  “I seek to determine facts,” Charlie said.

  “In that case I shall have to tell you that I came there wide-eyed and innocent, from an engineering school. I planned to build bridges, but my fatal beauty intervened.”

  “You have appeared with Miss Shelah Fane in other pictures before this one?”

  “No.” Van Horn grew more serious. “I scarcely knew her until I was engaged for this part.”

  “I do not need to ask where you were at two minutes past eight tonight?” Chan continued.

  “No, you don’t,” the actor agreed. “I was in the same room with you. You’ll remember I looked at my watch and remarked that it was eight o’clock, and that I was toddling along down here. At two minutes past the hour I was still where you could see me - if you cared to avail yourself of the privilege.”

  “You came to this house immediately?”

  “Yes - I walked. Exercise - that’s how I keep in trim. I got here about eight-fifteen - I didn’t hurry. Jessop let me in, we had a little chat, and at about eight-twenty I joined Mrs. Ballou on the beach, as you’ve already heard.”

  Jimmy Bradshaw returned. “I got that man Fyfe at the theater,” he announced. “My news just about bowled the poor fellow over. He said he would be through after the second act, and would come right along.”

  “Thank you most warmly,” Chan nodded. “You have most helpful nature.” He turned to Martino. “You are what they call a director, I think.”

  “Yes, they call me that,” replied Martino grimly. “Among other things.”

  “You have been engaged in this work a long time?”

  “Not very long. I was formerly an actor, on the English stage. Got interested in the pictures, you know, and eventually went to Hollywood.”

  “Could you mention date of arrival?”

  “Surely. I landed there two years ago last March.”

  “At that date, you saw the place for the first time?”

  “Yes - of course.”

  Charlie nodded. “With regard to this evening, I can also omit to ask from you your exact location at two minutes past eight.”

  “Naturally. I was with you and these other chaps at the hotel. As I believe I told you, when I left you just after eight o’clock, I went with Mr. Jaynes on to the terrace. I tried to calm him a bit, but he broke away and wandered down the beach. I sat there on the beach walk for some twenty-five minutes, admiring the set. When I saw you again, I had just been upstairs to get my hat, intending to come down here.”

  Charlie looked over at Alan Jaynes, nervously smoking his small cigar in a distant corner. “Mr. Jaynes,” he said.

  The Britisher rose and approached him, consulting his watch as he did so. “Yes?” he remarked.

  Charlie regarded him gravely. “You are, I believe, one of the people who suffer most from this death tonight?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It is reported that you loved Shelah Fane.”

  “Reported - by whom?” The man looked angrily at Tarneverro.

  “No matter,” said Chan. “You had asked her to marry you?”

  “I had.”

  “Then you loved her?”

  “Look here - must you make a public inquisition of this?”

  “So sorry. It is, I perceive, somewhat indiscreet on my part. Mr. Bradshaw has told me you were in this room at seven-forty tonight.”

  “I was. I had come to dinner.”

  “And to have, first of all, a private conversation with Miss Fane?”

  “Yes. But the nature of that conversation is none of your business.”

  Charlie smiled. “Alas! I know so much that is none of my business. You ask for her final decision in the matter of marriage. She rejects you, and you suspect Mr. Tarneverro here is responsible for the action. You tramp angrily back to hotel, seeking to make quarrel with this same Tarneverro. So, at two minutes past eight, you stand in hotel lounge, glowering. Which, dear sir, is fortunate affair for you.”

  “I take it,” Jaynes said, “that you have fixed the moment of this - this murder, at two minutes after eight?”

  “I have,” Chan replied.

  Jaynes tossed his cigar into an ash-tray with a gesture of deep relief. “Thank God for that. Have you any more questions?”

  “You saw Miss Fane for final time when you left this room at about fifteen minutes before eight?”

  “That was the last time I saw her - yes.”

  “Then you did not return here bet
ween eight-five and eight-thirty-five?”

  “I did not.”

  “Have you ever been in Hollywood, Mr. Jaynes?”

  The Britisher laughed bitterly. “I have not - and I’m not likely to go there.”

  “That is all, sir,” Chan nodded.

  “Thank you. I’ll say good-by. I happen to be sailing on the Oceanic at midnight.”

  Charlie looked at him in sudden surprise. “You are leaving Hawaii tonight?”

  “I am.”

  The detective shrugged. “I am so sorry to disappoint you. The matter is impossible.”

  “Why should it be?” Jaynes demanded.

  “You are somewhat deeply involved in this affair.”

  “But you say you’ve fixed the moment of the murder - and at that moment I was standing in your presence. It’s a perfect alibi.”

  “Perfect alibis have way of turning imperfect without warning,” Charlie informed him. “I regret that I can not allow you to sail. The Oceanic will be carefully watched, and no one connected with this affair will be permitted to leave the island aboard her. Or on any other ship, for the present.”

  An angry flush spread over the Britisher’s face. “On what grounds do you keep me here?”

  “As an important witness in present case,” Chan replied. “I will go to extreme length of swearing out warrant, if necessary.”

  “I can at least go back to the hotel,” Jaynes suggested.

  “When I permit it,” Charlie said gently. “Meanwhile, I hope you will find for yourself a comfortable chair.”

  Jaynes glared at him, then receded into the background. The door-bell rang, and Jessop admitted two men. One was a tall angular American with a deputy sheriff’s badge, the other a small anxious-looking Japanese.

  “Ah, Mr. Coroner,” Chan greeted the deputy, who doubled in that role. “And Kashimo. As usual, Kashimo, you are demon for speed to get on job. Is it too much to assume that you arrive here with horse and carriage?”

  The deputy spoke. “They sent him to fetch me, and he finally managed it. Where did this thing happen, Charlie?”

  “In a moment I lead you to the place,” Charlie said.

  “Maybe I search house,” suggested Kashimo.

  Chan regarded him sadly. “It would appear that there was great shortage of detectives at station house tonight,” he said. “No, Mr. Kashimo, please do not search house - at least, not until somebody tells you what you are searching for.” He turned to the deputy. “If you will follow me -“

  Diana Dixon came into the room. She wore a white evening gown, and her elaborate make-up was sufficient explanation of the long delay in her appearance. Chan looked at her with interest.

  “Here is some one about whom I have not heard before,” he said.

  “Who in the world -” began Diana, staring at him.

  “Do not be alarmed,” smiled Charlie. “I am Inspector Chan, of Honolulu police. You are in Hawaii now.”

  “Oh, I see,” she answered.

  “Your name, please?”

  She gave it.

  “You are guest in house, perhaps?”

  “I am. Miss Fane was kind enough to take me in. You know, I’ve just come up from the South Seas with her - I acted in her last picture.”

  “An actress,” nodded Chan. “I find myself dazzled by so much fame and beauty. All the same, I collect myself to inquire - what have you been engaged in doing this evening?”

  “Why, I’ve been in swimming,” she told him.

  “When did you last see Miss Fane?”

  “When I went upstairs to put on my bathing-suit - I don’t know what time that was. Mr. Bradshaw had just come, and Miss Julie and he and I went up to change. We left Miss Fane standing here in the hall. Some one was ringing the door-bell.”

  “You came down and entered the water with these young people?”

  “Oh, no - it took me a lot longer to change. It was eight o’clock when I was finally ready - I noticed the clock on my dressing-table just before I left my room. I’d no idea it was so late - so I hurried down -“

  “You did not see Miss Fane?”

  “No, I didn’t. This room was empty when I came through it. I crossed the lanai and stepped out on the lawn -“

  “At a little time past eight?”

  “Yes - it must have been three or four minutes past the hour. As I ran over the lawn, I saw a man come hurriedly away from the pavilion -“

  “You saw a man leaving the pavilion? Who was he?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t see his face. I thought he was one of the guests, and I shouted hello. But he didn’t answer.”

  “You are able to describe him?” Chan asked.

  “Not his face - that was in shadow, as I told you. But he was wearing a coat - an overcoat - I thought it odd on a night like this. The coat was open, and a streak of light from the kitchen window fell on his shirtfront. He was dressed in evening clothes, you see, and across his white shirt -” Suddenly she turned pale and sat down weakly in the nearest chair. “Oh, my God,” she cried, “I never thought of it before.”

  “You never thought of what before?” Charlie prompted.

  “That stain on his shirt - that long, narrow, bright red stain,” she gasped. “It - it must have been blood.”

  Chapter VI

  FIREWORKS IN THE RAIN

  For a moment, stunned by the picture Miss Dixon’s words presented, the assemblage was silent. Then a low murmur, a buzz of amazed comment, filled the room. Charlie Chan stood looking at his newest witness speculatively, as though he asked himself whether her statement could possibly be true.

  “Most interesting,” he said at last. “There has been, then, on these grounds tonight, a gentleman whose presence was up to this moment unsuspected by me. Whether or not he carried blood-soaked shirt bosom -“

  “But I tell you I saw it,” the girl protested.

  Chan shrugged. “Perhaps. Oh, most humble pardon - I do not question your truth. I merely mention overwrought nerves, or maybe optic illusion. You must excuse if I say I might admit murderer would be so clumsy at his work as to inundate himself, but reason totters on pedestal to add that such a man would rush from scene of crime with coat flapping open on his error. Rather I would picture him with garment wrapped close to hide away this crimson evidence. But what does it matter? We must at any rate pursue thought of man with overcoat. The idea in itself presents portrait of queer human being. Overcoat in smiling tropics, even over evening dress, is unaccustomed garb.” He turned to Julie. “And what, please, is name of man servant in this house?”

  “You mean Jessop?” she inquired.

  “I mean the butler. Will you summon him - if I am not getting too obnoxious?”

  Julie went into the hall, and Charlie turned to the deputy sheriff. “I find it impossible to accompany you to scene of crime just yet. Same took place in small beach house at right of lawn - please accept this key. You may begin examination, and I will join you when I have interrogated servants here.”

  “Did you find the weapon, Charlie?” asked the coroner.

  “I did not. That was, I think, carried off by the assailant. He was person, you will find, who had wits in good control.” Charlie turned to the Japanese. “Kashimo, you may enjoy yourself by keen observation of the neighborhood. But if you repeat one former performance and spoil any footprints for me, I will at once arrange for you to return to former position as janitor of fish market.”

  The coroner and the little Japanese went out. At the same moment Jessop held open the curtains and followed Julie into the room. The butler was pale and agitated.

  “The name is Jessop?” Charlie inquired.

  “Yes - ah - sir.”

  “You understand who it is that I am?”

  “I take it you represent the local constabulary, sir.”

  Chan grinned. “If it will help you to endure society of person like me, Jessop, I offer statement that my humble efforts on one occasion met with the complete approval of a
gentleman from Scotland Yard.”

  “Really, sir?” answered Jessop. “The memory must be most gratifying to you.”

  “It is, indeed. How long is it now that you have been Miss Fane’s butler?”

  “Two years, sir.”

  “You were in Hollywood before that, maybe?”

  “For about eighteen months, I was.”

  “A butler, always?”

  “Always a butler, sir. I had a number of berths before I went with Miss Fane. I am bound to say that I was unhappily in all of them.”

  “The work was, perhaps, too difficult?”

  “Not at all, sir. I objected to the familiarity of my employers. There is a certain reserve that should exist between servant and master. I found that lacking. The ladies I worked for would often weep in my presence and tell me stories of unrequited love. The gentlemen who engaged me were inclined to treat me like some long-lost brother. One in particular was accustomed to address me as ‘old pal’ and when a bit under the influence, would embrace me in the presence of guests. A man has his dignity, sir.”

  “It has been well said, without dignity there can be no stature,” Charlie assured him. “You found Miss Fane of a different type?”

  “I did indeed, sir. A lady who knew her place as I knew mine. There was never any undue informality in her treatment of me.”

  “Relations were, then, of the happiest?”

  “That they were. I should like to add that I am quite heart-broken by this evening’s business, sir.”

  “Ah, yes - coming to this evening - did any of the gentlemen whom you admitted here tonight wear an overcoat, Jessop?”

  “An overcoat, sir?” Jessop’s white eyebrows went up.

  “Yes. With dinner costume, you understand.”

  “No, sir,” replied Jessop firmly. “No such gaucherie of dress was evident, Constable.”

  Chan smiled. “Kindly look about the room. Do you recall admitting any visitor with exception of those now visible to your view?”

  “No, sir,” returned Jessop, surveying the party.

  “Thank you. When did you last see Miss Fane?”

  “It was in this room, at about twenty minutes after seven, when I brought her a box of flowers. I heard her voice after that, but I did not see her.”