“Could I have a cigarette? It’s a bit awkward here, trussed up – don’t you think you’d better stop playing games and let me go? Oh, I do. Definitely, my dear Sherlock.”
“Why?”
Asey knew exactly what was coming. He had guessed it ten minutes ago, but he wanted more than anything to play for time.
“Well,” Tertius said, “I’ll tell you. You pretend to be a bumpkin, but old Captain Porter left you comfortably off. I’ve heard him and father talk about you. You’re a Porter director, aren’t you? And even if you weren’t so richly endowed, your friend Bill Porter is, isn’t he? Yes. And Master Chase has all those beans. And you and Master Chase are keeping a murder secret, aren’t you? Because of Jane Warren. Zeb likes Jane Warren. Need I really go on? It seems such a waste of time.”
“How much,” Asey inquired, “do you want?”
“Call it – oh, fifty thousand will cover it nicely,” Tertius said. “I think fifty thousand will do.”
Asey nodded. “An’ your plan – of course, I’m puttin’ it awful crude, an’ I know it’ll hurt you, but you had a nice plan, didn’t you? You come to get the policy an’ change the name, an’ send in a notice dated – yes, I suppose you could of managed it somehow. An’ after makin’ Eloise the beneficiary – honest, that was a brain wave, Tertius. Eloise wants to be Mrs. Somebody, an’ I shouldn’t wonder if she hadn’t jumped at you like a starvin’ dog at a bone. An’ then you’d have had fifty thousand to blow. Tertius, that was smart.”
“That is very crudely put,” Tertius said. “But what, on the other hand, is fifty thousand to you and Zeb? Chicken feed. Now, Mayo, let’s stop skirmishing. You can’t arrest me. You know you can’t.”
Konrad rubbed his forehead. He was plainly bewildered. He wondered to himself who was the crazier, this hick detective that was supposed to be so hot, or the burglar who wasn’t acting at all the way a burglar should act, particularly when caught in the act of burgling.
“How d’you figure that?” Asey asked.
“Can you prove I entered the town offices?”
“You was careful,” Asey admitted, “about prints.”
“And will you tell me how this cop can identify his assailant as me?”
“Say,” Konrad said, “I know—”
“Maybe you do,” Asey said, “but did you actually see who throttled you? No. There you are.”
“Have I taken anything from this place? Did you find on me anything belonging to Mary Randall? See? If you arrest me on any trumped up charge, I’ll blow this hush-hush business higher than a kite. If you just let me loose, and forget this fifty thousand, it’ll be worse than that.”
Konrad turned to Asey. “Can’t you get him for the murder? How’d he know about it? If no one knows, and he does, didn’t he do it?” The problem had been bothering him.
“Unfortunately, Tertius was on a ferris wheel at the time, an’ ’steen thousand people know it, includin’ Tertius.”
“Think fast, Mayo,” Tertius said. “Think fast.”
“Will you let me tend to him?” Konrad pleaded.
“No, No, Konrad – for the love of God, don’t touch him!”
“That’s right, no crass violence,” Tertius said. “Prettyman is not to be mussed. Mayo, you’re hoist by your own petard, aren’t you? Just think of the stink I’d make – horrid word, but so apt. What a stink! Did you know my revered father?”
“I never had that pleasure.”
“Thought you might have, he went on Porter’s yacht once or twice – what did you say? I thought you cast a pearl my way. Anyway, the old man was no damn Einstein, but he was an expert at two things, poker, and hue and cry raising. I don’t like to brag, you understand, but the Prettyman family has hue and crying down to a magnificent art. Honestly, can you think of any loophole?” Asey strolled over to the oak chest, sat down and began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Tertius was irritated by the sound.
“Tertius,” Asey said, “did you ever hear tell of possession? There’s a coarse, crass old adage that says possession is nine points of the law. I admit what you can do to us if we keep you or let you go. But that don’t alter the fact, we got you.”
“Embarrassing possession,” Tertius said. “You can’t keep me in your pocket. Or leave me here. Think of the long autumn evenings ahead—”
“With the frost on the punkin an’ you a’moulderin’ on the floor. I been considerin’ that, an’ I just found the solution,” Asey said. “I never met your father on Porter’s yacht, but I r’member hearin’ about him, an’ about you. You went on the Porter yacht once, didn’t you? Aha. You do recall that? Gets you a little green to think about it, don’t it? An’ how they had to put back to port an’ let you off, with you so weak from seasickness you couldn’t even walk. Had to be carried off in a stretcher. Well, Tertius, over to my wharf I got a nice motor boat. All set to go, ’cause I was intendin’ to take a week’s fishin’ trip. I call her the ‘Rock an’ Roll.’ She’s a nice boat, an’ I’m sure you’ll be real happy on her. My cousin Syl an’ his brother Alf – what’s that?”
Tertius’ face was a horrible greenish white.
“You can’t! You can’t do that, it’s kidnapping!”
“Well really,” Asey said, “I can’t see it’s any more kidnappin’ than what you was doin’ here tonight was burglarin’! You said I couldn’t call you a burglar. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to call me a kidnapper! Why, perish the horrid thought! Course, you’re a blackmailer, really, ain’t you?”
Tertius’ mouth was working.
“He’s going to have a fit!” Konrad was alarmed. “Say, he’s frothing!”
“He’ll froth more, after two weeks on the ‘Rock an’ Roll.’ You’re an amiable blackmailer, Tertius, but adjectives don’t make much difrence. How about it?”
Helplessly, Tertius tugged at his bonds and writhed around on the floor.
“Come, come,” Asey said impatiently, “answer me! You’re a blackmailer, ain’t you?”
He repeated the question until Tertius admitted with a sob that he was a blackmailer.
“Fine, now we’re gettin’ some place. Sit up, an’ stop this nonsense. You been tellin’ me where to get off, an’ now I’m goin’ to tell you. Do you want to spend an indefnite period on the ‘Rock an’ Roll’? All right. Bear that craft in mind, feller. If you don’t want an extended cruise, you sit up an’ answer my questions, an’ answer’em truthful – what is it, Konrad?”
“What’s got into him? He’s sick – he’s a pulp? What happened?”
“Just seasickness. He near dies of it. I’m glad I finally r’membered all the yarns about him. Now, Tertius, goin’ cruisin’ or not?”
“No!”
“Splendid. How did you know about this murder? Did you hang around last night like I thought?”
“Yes.”
“Broke into Weston’s office for the ledger? Yes. Slapped down Konrad? Yes again. Now, what makes you think Jane Warren killed Mary Randall?”
“She was here, wasn’t she?”
“That’s not enough. Why were you so sure about Jane?”
“She and Mary had been fighting. They were at each other’s throats. Have been for a month.”
“How do you know?”
“Eloise told me,” Tertius said. “It was about Zeb.”
“What about him?”
“Mary wanted Jane to marry him. Said he was a good fellow and it meant security for the rest of her life, and all that.”
“And Jane wouldn’t?”
“Jane said he was all right, but she didn’t happen to love him. Mary said at least she didn’t hate him, and it was no time to bother with that stupid modern sentimentality.” Tertius was beginning to get back to normal. “Mary’s right, of course, in Jane’s case. But she rubbed it in. And the more she rubbed, the stub- borner Jane got.”
Asey raised his eyebrows. This was a new angle.
“That’s all the truth,” Tertius said ha
stily. “You can ask Eloise. Eloise put in her two cents’ worth for Zeb, too. She thinks Zeb is dear – such a nice boy. Of course the money helps,” he mimicked Eloise’s high voice, “I always say it helps. Not that money is all, but I always think – Cousin Eleanor’s daughter – but then her husband wasn’t nice, and Zeb is so nice! I’m sure it wouldn’t turn out like that, with divorces.”
“So Jane,” Asey said, “got it from Mary an’ from Eloise too?” That might well explain, he thought, her attitude on the previous afternoon, and her bitterness about the antique business and everything connected with it.
“And how! She couldn’t leave. She hadn’t any place to go. All the usual Orphan Annie stuff. The Randalls were feeding and clothing and keeping her, and she couldn’t talk back too much.” Tertius smiled. “And then that policy comes Saturday. Well there you are. I suppose Jane’s idea was to kill Mary, and collect on that, and marry Slade and live happily ever after, only not in his tar paper shack.”
“Marry Mike Slade?” Asey stared at Tertius. “Look, is this your imagination?”
“Ask Eloise,” Tertius said. “She’ll tell you. They’ve been pretty sly about it. But Eloise caught on, and Mary did too. That was what galled them so, that Jane should play around with Mike, while the Baked Bean Billions stared her in the face. And mind you, Mary and Eloise didn’t care so much for the money. But they knew Jane did, and does. Poverty doesn’t agree with her. They weren’t being snooty about it, or about Mike. They knew their Jane.”
Asey got up and started to pace around the room.
This put a different complexion on the whole business.
From the start, he and Lane had done considerable figuring about Jane Warren. She was there on the spot, and she was the obvious suspect. On the other hand, they could think of no motive. And here, certainly, was the motive.
“That,” Asey said, “is somethin’. But we still got the gun problem. Zeb Chase an’ I got here seven or eight minutes after Mary was killed. We can’t find any trace of a shell, or any shotgun except Zeb’s, an’ his won’t do. Lane’s plumbed chimneys, an’ opened panels in the wainscotin’, an’ peered under floors, an’ generally fine toothed the house an’ the surroundin’ scenery. Trees an’ everythin’. No gun. Now if it’d been Jane, she hadn’t time to hide a gun, an’ if she hid it, we’d of found it. But—”
“Did you say shotgun?” Tertius interrupted eagerly. “Was that what did it?”
“A shot gun, an’ deer ball. Why?”
“Asey,” Tertius drew a deep breath, “I should like very much to winter in Florida or California, preferably California. I like the place. And I’ll promise you on my word of honor never to breathe a word to anyone about this mess until you say so. And I can prove every bit of what I can tell you. Isn’t it worth a winter in California to find out who killed Mary Randall?”
Asey looked at Tertius. The fellow seemed in earnest, but that meant little.
“What makes you think you know?”
“If it was a twelve gauge gun – was it?”
Asey sat down again on the chest. Lane had weighed one of the balls. It was an ounce ball, a standard load for a twelve gauge gun. But only he and Lane knew. Perhaps Tertius was making a stab, but—
“Well,” Tertius said, “was it?” And what about California?”
“You’re half tanned already,” Asey said. “Go on.”
“Oh, it’s Jane, all right,” Tertius said. “You see, Jane bought a twelve gauge shotgun just about six weeks ago.”
Chapter 8
Tertius paused for a moment to let the information sink in, and then he surveyed Asey with a certain amount of irritation.
“Well, doesn’t that please you?”
“It’d please me a lot more,” Asey said, “if you could only prove it.”
“I can prove it. She bought that gun from a mail order house. I have the cancelled check that paid for it. How’s that?”
“Whose check? Yours?”
Tertius nodded.
“In that case,” Asey said, “how about you bought it yourself? An’ if she did buy it, how come it’s your check? Nope, you’ll never bask in any orange groves on the strength of that!”
“Listen. In June, she came to me and asked if I’d write a check for her. She wanted to order something, and had only cash. So—”
“Why didn’t she use a money order? Why’d she come to you, of all people?”
“Jane Warren,” Tertius said, “probably doesn’t know what a money order is. She comes from a different social scale. There’s only one way of sending money that she understands. That’s by check. She always sent checks, and not having any checking account at the moment, she gets checks from someone who has ’em. She’s done it before. Once when she bought some present for Mary and didn’t want to give the show away by asking Mary to write the check for her. See?”
Asey nodded.
“Anyway,” Tertius continued, “I asked who was the present for this time, and she laughed and said it was none of my business. She had an order blank with her, but I didn’t get a peek at it. But I found out when the check came back the next month – say, undo me, will you?”
“How’d you find out?”
“Oh, well. Well, there was a catalogue number written on the back, so I got out a catalogue and looked it up. What she ordered and what my check paid for, and what she got, was a twelve gauge anniversary special shotgun. And you can prove that, by the check, and by her order and by your store records. By the post office. Anything you want. There you are. Mary’s killed by a twelve gauge gun. Jane bought one. Jane has a motive.”
“That’s all true.”
“And if you haven’t been able to find any gun,” Tertius went on, “what about Mike Slade? Suppose Mike did the shooting. Or suppose that Jane did, and then gave the gun to him to cart away. Now, what about California – do I hear a car in the drive?”
“It’s Hamilton.” Asey drew a folding check book from his pocket. “Got a pen, Konrad?”
“Hamilton,” Tertius said. “He’s the one who got my license taken away.
Speeding. That’s why Eloise was driving me last night, and why I had to hitch hike over here from the hall tonight. I’m a marked man – hi, Hamilton.”
“Hullo yourself. What are you tied up for?”
“Undo him, Konrad,” Asey said. “Ham, come here.”
After a lengthy whispered conversation, Hamilton grinned and Asey walked over to Tertius.
“Here you are,” he said. “Ham’s going to take you to your house to get that check for Jane’s gun, an’ then he’s drivin’ you to Boston. Are you goin’ to play ball?”
Tertius’ eyes bulged at the sum Asey had given him.
“My God! Really, this is very decent of you. Really, I mean, you could arrest me, and—”
“Ham’ll see to things. You pop along. Konrad, you hang around an’ keep your eyes open from now on. I’m leavin’ in a few minutes, but first I want to paw around this desk—”
He sighed wearily after they left, and then he smiled to himself. Hamilton would put Tertius on a train, but at Tertius’ side there would be a plainclothes- man for some time to come. He was taking no chances on the Prettyman family.
He pulled out his pipe and sat down at the desk. It was odd that Mary Randall should have made no mention of Jane and Zeb and Mike Slade in her diary, but on the other hand it was an impersonal sort of diary that could be published on any front page without causing any consternation to anyone. She had mentioned several times that she hoped Zeb and Jane would get things settled, but that was all. That was—
A noise in the shed beyond brought him to his feet.
He reached for his gun. There were plenty of rats in the barn, but rats didn’t say “Damn” in clearly audible tones.
Before his hand could lift the door latch, someone on the other side touched it.
A girl with red hair and freckles smiled at him and walked past into the barn.
“I
caught on a nail,” she said pleasantly.
Asey didn’t need to ask who she was. He knew. This was Sara Leach’s girl reporter. And it was only too clear that she had been making the most of an orchestra seat.
“That shed door lock,” she went on, “is no earthly use. My nail file almost cut it in two.” She stretched and wriggled her shoulders. “And whoever thought up that glued-to-a-keyhole idea was a master of the apt phrase. I’ve got sciatica or something in every limb. Look, I’m not going to bite, or break into little pieces or anything—”
“What brought you here?” Asey demanded.
“That shot. I heard it as I drove by. So I came in. Frankly, I’m a sucker for the sound of a shot. I can’t seem to resist them – do I really discourage you as much as you look?”
“Miss Thayer,” Asey said, “you do. You—”
“How’d you know my name?”
“Sheer detectin’,” Asey told her.
He foresaw that it was going to be uphill work, disliking this girl. He wanted to, but he couldn’t seem to get started. She wasn’t hardboiled, like some of the lady reporters who had been sent to interview him at one time or another. She wasn’t mushy or soppy, like that Viola Someone who’d knit him socks and mourned that he had to live all by himself in that great big house of his. She wasn’t at all cocksure or arrogant, as she had every right to be when you considered what she had stumbled into. She was just matter of fact.
“Sheer detectin’,” Asey repeated. “Miss Thayer, what do you want? Or puttin’ it another way, what do you want more’n you want this story?”
Kay Thayer sat down, lighted a cigarette and looked thoughtfully around the room before answering.
“It’s going to slay you,” she said at last, “but I don’t want anything. Not even a trip to California. I want the story, but I don’t want it now.”
“What?”
“You heard. At first I was all worked up to find you were hiding a murder. Then it occurred to me that you couldn’t be hiding it. If the state cops knew, then various and sundry other authorities would know. And then, after a period of deep thought, I began to grasp it. If Billingsgate had a murder now, well – poof—”
Figure Away Page 9
