Charlie Chan [4] The Black Camel

by Earl Derr Biggers

  “What’s doing?” Bradshaw wanted to know.

  “Plenty will be doing at any moment now. Within the hour I tell you who killed Shelah Fane.”

  “Good lord!” the boy gasped.

  “First, I suggest a task for you. Miss Julie was Shelah Fane’s dear friend. Go back and break news gently to her that it was Miss Fane who shot Denny Mayo. Same is now established beyond all doubt.”

  “You don’t mean it?”

  “I do. Impart news gently, as I request. Then blow will not hit her with such cruel force as in crowd of people. It will be unhappy shock for her, but she will soon forget. She has your love.”

  “All I’ve got, Charlie. Say - this is pretty considerate of you. But then - you think of everything.”

  “Within my limitations, I try to do so. When news is broken, both of you are to come at once to living-room.”

  “We’ll do that, Charlie. Thanks.”

  As Chan entered the great room, Diana Dixon was greeting Martino, Van Horn and Jaynes, who had come down from the hotel together. The detective noted with satisfaction that all three were in dinner clothes - was it too much to hope they wore the same shoes as on the previous evening?

  “Hello, Inspector,” Martino said. “We came as soon as we could make it. What’s in the air?”

  “A little experiment,” Chan answered. “Perhaps our case is pau tonight.”

  Jaynes was lighting a small cigar. “Pau - you mean finished? By jove, I hope so. They’re holding a cabin for me on tomorrow’s boat. I rely on you, Inspector.”

  “We all do,” added the director. “I want to get off myself. Huntley - you and I might take that boat too.”

  Van Horn shrugged. “Oh - I don’t care if I never leave. I was looking at that beachcomber last night. Shouldn’t be surprised if he were the happiest man among us.”

  “Going primitive, eh?” Martino smiled. “I suppose it’s the influence of that part you played down in Tahiti.”

  “It’s the thought of Hollywood,” responded Van Horn. “Of all the artificial places I’ve seen, that town wins the embossed medallion.”

  “Spoken like a true Californian,” remarked Jimmy Bradshaw, entering with Julie. “Would you mind if I quoted you on that? Famous picture actor prefers Honolulu’s simple ways to the fevered swank of the film colony.”

  “You do,” returned Van Horn grimly, “and I’ll deny I ever said it.”

  “Alas!” grinned Bradshaw. “All the movie actors’ best lines have to be left out of their interviews.”

  Wilkie Ballou and his wife came in. The former wore a linen suit, with white shoes, and Charlie was troubled. If Ballou took the chair that was waiting for some one in the dining-room, then his case might be far from proof even now.

  “What’s it all about?” Ballou demanded. “I was going to bed early tonight.”

  “Poor old Wilkie can’t stand excitement,” Rita remarked. “As for me, I love it. Hello, Diana, - what have you been doing to-day?”

  The curtain parted, and Tarneverro stepped noiselessly into the room. He stood for a moment, staring about, a rather worried look in his dark eyes.

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “We’re all here, aren’t we?”

  Jaynes got slowly to his feet, walked over and proffered a case. “Good evening,” he remarked. “Will you have one of my cigars?”

  “No, thank you,” Tarneverro answered blandly. “I don’t use them.”

  “So sorry,” replied the Britisher. “I rather thought you did.”

  Charlie stepped hastily between them. “Will you be seated, please? We are all here, yes - except my Chief. We wait few minutes for him.”

  They sat down. Rita, Diana and Julie chatted together in low tones. The men were silent, staring into space.

  Presently there was a clatter in the hall, and the Chief strode in. After him came Spencer, big and competent-looking. Chan leaped up.

  “Ah, Chief, - now we may go forward. I have explained that we desire to make small experiment. You know some of these people -“

  Wilkie Ballou shook the Chief’s hand. “I’m glad to see you here,” he remarked, with a glance toward Charlie.

  “Mr. Tarneverro is also known to you,” Chan continued, oblivious. He introduced the others. “Now we will all proceed to dining-room,” he finished.

  “What! Another dinner party?” cried Rita Ballou.

  “A peculiar dinner party,” Chan told her, “at which no food will be served. Come this way, please.”

  They filed out, solemn and ill-at-ease now. The presence of the Chief and the burly policeman in uniform had served to impress them with the seriousness of the situation. Not unnaturally, they were asking themselves what all this meant? Was it a trap?

  Jessop was on duty in the dining-room, grave and dignified. He waited, ready to seat them at the barren table with the same poise as though it had gleamed with silver, been snowy with linen.

  “We are now about to make request,” Chan said slowly. “I would remind you that this is important moment and you must think deep before acting. No mistake must be made. Will you kindly sit down at same places you occupied at this table last night?”

  A little chorus of dismay greeted his words. “But I was so excited, I don’t remember,” cried Diana, and the others echoed her. For a moment they milled about, puzzled and uncertain. Then Jimmy Bradshaw dropped down at the foot of the table, opposite the empty chair of the hostess.

  “I sat here,” he announced. “I recall it perfectly. Julie, you were at my right. Mr. Van Horn, you sat at my left.”

  Julie and the picture actor, with Jessop officiating, took their places.

  “Mr. Ballou, you were here beside me,” Julie said, and Chan heaved a sigh of relief as the Honolulu man sank into his chair.

  “So I was,” Ballou remarked. “Thank you for remembering, my dear. Diana, you were at my right.”

  “True enough,” Miss Dixon agreed, and Jessop held her chair. “And, Val, you were at my right.”

  “Of course,” the director nodded, and sat down.

  One side of the table was now completely filled - but it was not the side that interested Charlie.

  “You were across from me, Rita,” said Diana.

  Mrs. Ballou took her place.

  Two chairs, aside from the one at the head of the table, remained vacant, with Jaynes and Tarneverro left to occupy them.

  “I believe, Mrs. Ballou, that I had the honor of sitting beside you,” remarked Tarneverro, and took the chair at her right.

  “So you did,” Rita agreed. “And Mr. Jaynes was on the other side.” She indicated the chair at her left - the portentous chair before which were tiny scratches such as might have been made by a broken pin protruding slightly from the heel of a shoe.

  “I fancy we have it now,” smiled Jaynes innocently and sat down.

  There was a moment’s silence. “You are seated just as you were last night?” Chan inquired slowly.

  “We are not,” said Huntley Van Horn suddenly.

  “Something is wrong?” Charlie asked.

  “It is. Mr. Tarneverro is at my left now, but last night Mr. Jaynes was in that position.”

  “Why, of course,” Rita Ballou cried. She turned to Tarneverro. “You and Mr. Jaynes have exchanged places.”

  “Perhaps we have,” the fortune-teller answered amiably. He rose. Jaynes also got up, and took the chair at Rita’s right. After a moment’s hesitation, Tarneverro dropped into the fateful chair. “I fancy we’re all set now,” he remarked calmly. “Jessop, you may serve the soup.”

  Charlie and the Chief exchanged a look, and moved away from the neighborhood of the table. They went into the hall.

  “Tarneverro,” said the Chief softly. “I knew it. Take a look at his shoes -“

  But Chan stubbornly shook his head. “Something is very wrong here,” he insisted.

  “Wrong, nonsense! What’s got into you, anyhow, Charlie?”

  “Extremely wrong,” Chan continued.
“You can not convict a man with an alibi such as his. All broken pins in world would not avail.”

  “Then the whole thing’s a flop, according to you?”

  “So far - yes. But I do not despair. Permit me that I think a moment. There is some explanation of this. Ah, yes - come with me.”

  They returned to the dining-room. The group about that barren table looked at them expectantly.

  “Kindly hold positions just as at present,” Chan said. “I come back before I am missed.”

  He stepped through a swinging door into the kitchen, and they heard his voice in low converse with Wu Kno-ching, the cook. They waited in silence; even the obviously innocent appeared anxious and uneasy. Presently Charlie returned, walking with unwonted briskness and with a grim look on his face.

  “Jessop,” he said.

  The butler stepped forward with a rather startled air.

  “Yes, Constable?”

  “Jessop, after these people departed last night, others sat at this table?”

  The butler had a guilty look. “I’m extremely sorry, sir. It was not quite in order - I would not ordinarily countenance it in a well-run house, but things were rather at sixes and sevens - and we had had no dinner - so we just sat down for a bit of coffee; we needed it badly -“

  “Who sat down?”

  “Anna and I, sir.”

  “You and Anna sat down at this table, after the guests had gone? Where did you sit?”

  “Over there - where Mr. Martino is now seated, sir.”

  “And Anna - where did Anna sit?”

  “She sat here, sir.” And Jessop laid his land on the back of Tarneverro’s chair.

  For a moment Chan was silent, staring at the butler with unseeing eyes. He sighed heavily, as one who after a long journey sights the end of the trail at last.

  “Where is Anna now?” he asked.

  “She is in her room, I fancy, sir. Upstairs.”

  Charlie nodded at Spencer. “Bring this woman at once,” he ordered, and the policeman disappeared. Chan turned to the table. “Our little experiment is ended. Please step back to living-room.”

  They got up and filed silently across the hall. Charlie and the Chief waited at the foot of the stairway. The Chief said nothing, and Charlie also seemed disinclined to speak. Presently Spencer appeared at the head of the stairs, accompanied by Anna. They descended slowly. His eyes like black buttons in the half-light, Chan faced the woman. With cool unconcern, she returned his stare.

  “Come with me,” he said. He led her into the living-room, and stood for a moment looking at her feet. She wore high, black shoes, in keeping with her sober uniform. The right one, Charlie noted, seemed somewhat thick about the ankle.

  “Anna, I must make very odd request of you,” he said. “Will you be good enough to remove right shoe?”

  She sat down, and began slowly to unlace it. Tarneverro came forward and stood at Chan’s side. The detective ignored him.

  He took the heavy shoe from Anna’s hand, turned it over, and with his penknife slit the rubber heel. A little half-inch length of gold pin lay exposed, and with a gesture of triumph he lifted it out and held it up.

  “You are all witnesses,” he reminded them. He turned to Anna. “As for you, I fear you have been grossly careless. When you stamped those orchids under foot, you failed to note this telltale evidence of your act. Ah, well - but for such brief moments of neglect, we would get nowhere in this business.” He gave his attention to the shoe. “I note braces built along the sides,” he continued. “Meant to protect weak ankle, I think. You have had an accident, madam?”

  “My - my ankle was broken - long ago,” she replied, in a voice barely audible.

  “Broken?” cried Charlie quickly. “When? How? Was it dancing on the stage you broke that ankle? Ah, yes - it was. Madam - I think you were once the wife of Denny Mayo.”

  The woman took a little step toward him. Her eyes were hard and defiant, but her usually dark face was white as Waikiki’s sands.

  Chapter XXIV

  THE VEIL IS LIFTED

  Charlie turned to Tarneverro. In the deep-set eyes of the fortune-teller he saw a reluctant admiration. He smiled.

  “I have been plenty dense,” he said. “This woman is on the scene by no coincidence. When you set up as lifter of the veil in Hollywood, you needed - what? Spies - spies to scatter about the place, and bring you morsels of gossip regarding film people. Your brother’s wife had suffered accident, she was no longer able to work at profession, she was penniless and alone. You sent for her. What more natural than that action? You helped her to position, that she might help you.”

  Tarneverro shrugged. “You have a remarkable imagination, Mr. Chan.”

  “No, no - you flatter me,” Charlie cried. “It has just been proved I have not imagination enough. Only one claim I make for myself - when light at last begins to stream in, I do not close the shutters. Light is streaming in now. Anna’s task was not alone to bring you trivial information - she was also to assist you in solving matter of Denny Mayo’s murder. Was that why you placed her with Shelah Fane? Had you already some suspicion of Miss Fane? I think so. Yesterday morning in your apartment, actress confessed her misdeed to you. At once you inform Anna that victory has come. You are in high spirits. Your own intention is honest one, you plan to hand Miss Fane to police. Otherwise you would not say to me what you did in Grand Hotel lounge last night. Then - what happened?”

  “You tell me, Inspector.”

  “Such is my purpose. You learn that Shelah Fane is murdered. Without being told, you know who did the deed. The position is hard one for you, but mind works fast as usual. You invent false story about your seance with Shelah Fane, and boost me off on wrong trail at once. You talk about mythical letter Miss Fane was to write for you. Then, to your surprise and dismay, you find real letter was written. It may wreck plans at once, so you strike me down and obtain epistle. Needless act, as it turns out. You rage about, destroying photographs of Mayo to conceal relationship with him. You seek to befuddle me by involving innocent parties. Oh, you have been busy man, Mr. Tarneverro. I might forgive you, but I find it difficult to forgive myself. Why have I been so stupid?”

  “Who says you’ve been stupid, Charlie?” the Chief asked.

  “I do, and I remark same with bitter force,” Chan answered. “My little duel with this fortune-teller should have been finished long hours ago. Matter was clear enough. I knew he employed spies. I gathered - though I paid not enough attention to fact - that some one had been spying on Miss Fane in Tahiti and on returning boat. I learned that Anna here bought bonds - matter which might indicate more income than simple wage as maid. I listen to Tarneverro’s alibi and feel certain he did not do murder himself. What, then, explains his actions? Natural inference for good detective would have been that he protects some one else. Who? I read in newspaper that Denny Mayo had wife. I discover Mayo was Tarneverro’s brother, and I hear that Mayo was slain by hand of Shelah Fane. Later - crowning touch - I am told Mayo’s wife encountered accident and can no longer follow profession. Do I put two and two together? Do I add up simple sum and get result? No - I fumble around - I flounder like decrepit fish - finally I slide into happy harbor of success.” He turned suddenly on Anna, standing pale and silent before him. “For I am in that harbor. It is true, is it not, madam? You killed Shelah Fane!”

  “I did,” the woman answered.

  “Don’t be a fool, Anna,” Tarneverro cried. “Fight it out.”

  She gestured hopelessly. “What’s the use? I don’t care. I’ve nothing to live for - it doesn’t matter what becomes of me. Yes, I killed her. Why not? She -“

  “Just a moment,” the Chief broke in. “Anything you say, you know, may be used against you.”

  “You’re a little late with that, Chief,” Tarneverro said. “She should have a lawyer -“

  “I don’t want one,” Anna went on sullenly. “I don’t want any help. I killed her - she robbed me of my husband - she was
n’t content to take his love - she ended by taking his life. I’ve had my revenge, and I’m willing to pay for it. I intend to plead guilty, and get it over with at once.”

  “Fine,” approved the Chief. He saw the territory saved the expense of a long trial.

  “You’re mad, Anna,” cried the fortune-teller.

  She shrugged. “Don’t mind me. I wrecked all your plans, I fancy. I spoiled everything for you. Forget me and go your way alone.”

  Her tone was bitter and cold, and Tarneverro, rebuffed, turned away from her. Charlie offered her a chair. “Sit down, madam. I desire to make brief interrogation. It is true that Tarneverro brought you to Hollywood?”

  “Yes.” She accepted the chair. “I’ll take it from the beginning, if you like. While Denny was acting in the pictures, I continued to dance in London music-halls. I was doing well, when I had that accident - I broke my ankle - I couldn’t dance any more. I wrote to Denny about it, and asked if I could come to him. I didn’t receive any answer - and then I heard he had been killed.

  “Arthur - Denny’s brother here - was also playing in London at that time. He was kind to me - loaned me money - and then he told me he was going out to the States to learn who had killed poor Denny, if he could. After a time he wrote that he had set up in Hollywood as a fortune-teller, calling himself Tarneverro. He said he needed - help - that he could use me if I was willing to go into service. I had taken a position as wardrobe mistress with a manager for whom I used to dance. It was hard work - and the memories - I longed to get away from it all.”

  “So you went to Hollywood,” prompted the Chief.

  “I did, and I met Tarneverro secretly. He said he would place me with Miss Fane. He advised her to get rid of the maid she had, and sent me round the same day to apply for the position. He had discovered that Miss Fane and Denny were once - very close friends - and he thought I might be able to get on the trail of something in her house. He suggested that I change my appearance as much as possible - my way of doing my hair - he feared that Denny might have shown her pictures of me. I followed his instructions, but it was an unnecessary precaution. Denny - he must have lost my pictures - lost them or thrown them away. Miss Fane engaged me, and I was successful in the post. You see - I’d had maids myself. For a year and a half I was with her - helping Tarneverro. But I could discover nothing. Nothing about Denny, I mean.