by Lionel White
I nodded, sat back in the chair and tried to relax.
“As you probably heard over the air, Charles Merriweather was found early this morning standing outside of his car, off the Parkway just south of Greenwich. State Police discovered the body of a dead man in the trunk of his sedan, after an emergency tow car driver opened it with a skeleton key. The man had been shot. Merriweather has denied any knowledge of who the man was, how he was killed or why and how the body happened to be in his sedan.
“Connecticut police, after checking his driver’s and owner’s licenses, contacted us. We went immediately to the Merriweather home. Mrs. Merriweather was there and at first we didn’t tell her what had happened but asked to mspect the garage and the premises. She consented, somewhat reluctantly.”
This time I interrupted.
“But why check—”
“The people up in Connecticut rather doubted that the murder had actually taken place in their territory. Merriweather couldn’t have been driving for more than a few minutes at the most in Connecticut itself, assuming he had left his home as he said, to start up to New England. They assumed that it was very probable that the dead man had been placed in the trunk of the car in New York State. And continuing along that line of reasoning, they also assumed that he might very well have been murderedinNew York State. Merriweather told them that he had left his home before seven o’clock this morning. A quick examination of the body showed that the man had been dead for somewhere between three and seven hours. Of course, later on an autopsy will probably narrow that down a bit. But in any case, it would appear that if Merriweather is telling the truth, the man was murdered in New York and very possibly in Nassau County. And so we entered the case, as the crime may have been committed within this jurisdiction. We went to the Merriweather home. Mrs. Merriweather verified her husband’s story, saying that he had left the house around seven. We checked that; the neighbor next door saw him drive away in the sedan.
“When I returned here to the office, Mrs. Merriweather accompanied me. I wanted to ask her several questions. At first she was reticent about saying anything and so we told her what had happened. Beyond denying any knowledge of the presence of the body in the trunk of her husband’s car, she has refused to talk.”
He hesitated a moment and then looked up at me from under his eyebrows and smiled.
“I imagine that you advised her not to answer questions.”
“I certainly did,” I said. “Until I know what this is all
about—”
“Right at the moment,” the lieutenant said, “you know almost as much as we do. Except for one additional fact. We are now confident that the case does fall within our jurisdiction. That the dead man was murdered in—”
“But how can you know that? ” I interrupted quickly. “How-”
Lieutenant Giddeon shook his head.
“Unfortunately, Counselor,” he said, “I am not prepared to divulge that information just yet.”
I stood up.
“Where is Merriweather being held?” I asked.
“I honestly couldn’t say at the moment. But if you wish to accompany us to Connecticut, we will probably know when we get there.”
“You mean that the police up there are holding him incommunicado?”
He stood up and again stopped me, smiling almost tolerantly.
“Now, please, Counselor,” he said. “Please. It’s nothing like that. I can assure you that you will be able to see Mr. Merriweather. He is not being misused or anything of the sort. After all, Merriweather is, ostensibly, a reputable citizen and a taxpayer. He hasn’t been proved guilty of 61
anything yet, as far as I know. And the Connecticut State Police aren’t exactly the Gestapo.”
We drove to Connecticut in a black unmarked police sedan driven by a uniformed police chauffeur. The three of us sat in the back, Lieutenant Giddeon on one side, Ann Merriweather in the center and myself on the other side. They had let me talk with her for several minutes before we left.
I think the thing that surprised me most when I first walked into that room and found her sitting there, smoking a cigarette and staring thoughtfully at the rug, was her complete sense of self-control. I could see at once that she was still in a state of mild shock, but there was no hysteria, no tears or dramatics.
She got up the second I entered the room, came over quickly and took me by the arms, looking up into my face.
“Thank the Lord you’re here, Howard,” she said.
“Ann,” I began, “Ann, what in the world is this all about? What—”
“I only wish I knew. It’s crazy, Howard, completely crazy. I just don’t understand. I—”
“Ann,” I interrupted her. “Ann, we have only a few moments at the most. Please sit down. I must ask you some questions.”
She nodded and went back to her chair.
“First,” I said, “were both you and Charles home last evening? ”
She shook her head.
“I was home all evening. I had a bad headache and I hadn’t been sleeping well. Around nine o’clock, Charles gave me two Nembutals and I went to bed. I am not used to sleeping pills, but since that other thing happened—” she hesitated, looking up at me and I nodded her encouragement “—since then I have been so nervous that I haven’t been able to get much sleep. And so I had these pills and I took two of them. I went to bed and I didn’t wake up until around six-thirty, when the alarm went off. Actually, I didn’t hear the alarm, but Charles did and he had to shake me awake. He didn’t want to start out on his week’s trip without having a cup of coffee with me and saying goodby.”
“And Charles? Was Charles—”
“Charles went down to the country club to play bridge. He didn’t want to go, knowing I wasn’t feeling well, but I insisted. I know how much he enjoys those games. I have no idea what time he returned. The sleeping tablets really hit me and I was out absolutely cold. I wouldn’t have heard him come in, nothing could have awakened me. I imagine, however, that he probably got home sometime around midnight. He usually does, especially if he has to get up for an early morning start on the road. But until I see him, I won’t know.”
“But at least he was with people who did see him and know where he was? ”
“I am sure he must have been.”
“Well, if he was at the country club,” I said, “and he can prove it, I don’t think he has a thing to worry about. He probably left the car in the parking lot and someone must have come along and dumped—”
THE MERRIWEATHER FILE
Ann was shaking her head.
“That’s the thing that makes it all so horribly strange,” she said. “You see, Charles didn’t have the sedan last night. He always takes it for his trips and it was in the garage. He had already put his suitcases in the trunk on Sunday afternoon. He probably didn’t want to bother about taking the sedan out just to go to the country club and so he took the convertible, which was in the driveway.”
“Then you mean Charles’s sedan was in the garage all night?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know. All I know is that Charles took the convertible and that the sedan was in the garage when I went to bed. It was there in the morning when we woke up and the convertible was pulled up behind it and parked. When Charles left early this morning, I went out with him and backed it out of the way so that he could get his car out.”
I started to ask another question but there was a knock on the door and Lieutenant Giddeon put his head in and said that he was ready to leave. He asked us to make it as short as possible. I waited for the door to close again.
Ann’s face paled and she spoke quickly.
“They want me to go up and look at that dead man,” she said. “Do I have to, Howard?”
“Ann, I don’t honestly know. Maybe they can force you to, and maybe not. But I think you should. I know it will be unpleasant—horrible for you. But it might help Charles—”
“Of course I’ll do it,
if it will help Charles,” Ann said.
“Good girl,” I said. “And I will be with you. Later, we’ll see Charles and see what we can do to—”
“I want you to promise me that you will represent him, Howard,” she said. “Promise that you will—”
“But Ann, if Charles is really, seriously in trouble, don’t you think that a regular criminal lawyer—”
She shook her head violently.
“Charles doesn’t need a criminal lawyer,” she said quickly. “Charles is no criminal. This thing is all some ghastly mistake. I want you there. Want you to do anything that has to be done.”
“I’ll do anything you ask,” I said quickly. “Anything, Ann. And now—”
There was another knock on the door and this time we did end the conversation.
And so the three of us drove up together and we were met at the Connecticut Line by a state trooper on a motorcycle who must have been expecting us. He piloted us through traffic at a high speed and we were taken to the police barracks outside Stamford.
I was allowed to accompany Ann down into the basement. The body was lying on a stretcherlike arrangement that rested on two trestles. There was a sheet over it and I am afraid I blanched and hesitated as we entered the room. I had to admire Ann. The ordeal was a hundred times more difficult for her than it was for me, but she didn’t hesitate. She followed Lieutenant Giddeon and the Connecticut officer and stood next to the table. They pulled the sheet back.
Even now I shudder to think of that long, dead white O'
face beneath the coarse black hair. Thank God the eyes were closed. It was the first time in my life that I had ever viewed the body of anyone who had met death violently.
I could feel Ann starting to sag and my arm went around her. I turned quickly to her, but she was not going to faint. She made a terrific effort, and straightened up. She looked for several moments at the dead man’s face, not trying to take her eyes away from that grim sight.
“Have you ever seen this man—”
Her own clear, low voice cut off the question.
“I have not,” she said.
“And you have no idea who he is?”
“None.”
The whole thing took less than three minutes.
CHAPTER FIVE
It wasn’t until midafternoon that I was able to talk to Charles Merriweather. The police were holding him over in Greenwich—it seems that they had lodged a temporary charge against him of transporting a body without a permit and that, inasmuch as he had been picked up within the town limits, they were keeping him in the local jail.
We were driven to Greenwich by Lieutenant Gid-deon’s chauffeur and Giddeon of course accompanied us. Ann Merriweather was taken in to see her husband first and an officer stood by as they talked. While she was gone, Lieutenant Giddeon asked to have a few words with me. We spoke in a private office.
“Howard,” he said, and by his use of my first name I realized it was to be one of those so-called, off-the-record conversations. “Howard, I take it that you will be representing Mr. Merriweather?”
I nodded, though still hesitant to commit myself until I had talked with Charles himself.
“In that case,” the lieutenant said, “let me say something. First, I may tell you this. We have very good reason to believe that the dead man was acutally killed on the Merriweather premises. Now—” he waved me quiet as I started to speak up, “now I am not questioning your experience as an attorney in this sort of case, but I can assure you that we have sufficient evidence to hold Merriweather °n a more or less open charge. Say as a material witness.
We also have enough evidence to ask for and get an extradition so that we may remove him from Connecticut. You can, of course, fight this. On the other hand, you can advise your client to submit to extradition and it will merely save time and trouble all the way around. Connecticut can continue to hold him for several days, on technical charges. Sooner or later he’ll probably be able to make bail in this state. But by that time we would be prepared to rearrest him.
“If he cooperates, we’ll see that he is released on minimum bail here and we’ll return him to New York. Until such a time as we might wish to make a formal charge of murder, assuming that we ever do, he will without doubt be able to get out on bail in New York.”
I thanked the lieutenant for his advice. I knew that he was being sincere that he was trying to make it as easy as possible for both of us.
Ann was with her husband for not more than ten minutes and then I was taken in and allowed to talk with him. This time, because I was his attorney, we were left alone in a small private room. I knew that there would be a policeman outside the door guarding it, but at least no one would be able to overhear our conversation.
The first thing he did was thank me for coming and for being at xnn’s side. And then he asked me, almost formally, if I would agree to represent him.
“Certainly, Charles,” I assured him. “Ann has already asked me to. But I must tell you what I told her. This may be very serious. Perhaps a man better qualified, a man with experience—”
He waved it aside.
“Howard,” he said, “for God’s sake, this entire thing is some horrible farce. I have no idea how that body got into the trunk of my car. No idea even who the man is. I don’t need a criminal lawyer—it would be like calling in a brain surgeon to open a boil. What I want is a friend—a man just to handle the routine things that—”
“All right, Charles. And now—”
I explained to him about my conversation with Lieutenant Giddeon and after I was through, he quickly agreed that not fighting extradition would be the best policy.
“Hell, I want to get out on bail,” he said, “as soon as possible. Anyway, once the police have checked my alibi, they’ll understand how completely impossible it would have been for me to be involved in this thing.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I was going to ask you about that,” I said. “According to what the police now believe, the man was killed sometime between midnight Sunday and six o’clock Monday morning. Ann tells me that you went to the club to play bridge. I suppose that you have witnesses.”
“Sure. I played with George McCann, Bill Hollings and Marshall Kitteridge. Marshall was my partner. I was never away from the table for more than five minutes at a time and then only when as dummy I went over to the bar to get drinks.”
“What time did you leave?”
He hesitated for several moments.
“Well, sometime around midnight. Maybe one. Somewhere around then.”
“Did you go directly home?”
This time he took a long time before answering.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t. I went over to a bar in Hunting-ton and stayed until they closed. It must have been around three o’clock.”
“And there were people there who knew you and saw you? ”
“The bartender. Probably others.”
“Anyone in particular? Were you with anyone or drinking with anyone?”
He looked at me and his face reddened.
“Well. Well, Howard,” he said, “please don’t misunderstand about this, but I was. I was with a girl I sort of picked up there; we just sat in a booth and drank. But I would prefer that nothing came out about this unless it is absolutely necessary. Ann—”
I nodded. I was a little surprised, a little shocked, but this was no time to show it.
“I understand,” I said, although frankly I didn’t. “However I must know one thing. If it proves necessary to find her, do you know who this girl is and how to get a hold of her.”
“Yes, I know.”
He didn’t volunteer any more information and I didn’t press him.
“All right. And then you left the bar at three, let us say. It would have taken you about twenty minutes to get to Fairlawn from Huntington. That leaves the hours between three-twenty and six. Now, was Ann aware of when you—”
“She was sleeping li
ke a dead tired child. Didn’t stir when I finally got in. I had to wake her to say goodby, in the morning.”
“But you did get home at three-twenty or thereabouts. Now if it can only be proved that this man was killed before then—”
“And if it can’t? If he could have been killed after three-twenty—” I could see the worry in his eyes and I would have liked to have said something to reassure him. But the truth was that after three-twenty, unless he could prove where he was—
He seemed to realize what I was thinking.
“Howard,” he said. “Howard, I want you to promise me something?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to promise me that what I am going to say now you will keep in absolute confidence, will never mention to a soul, to Ann or anyone, unless I give you permission to do so.”
I looked at him, considerably surprised.
“Why—why, certainly, Charles. You know that I will.”
“Good,” he said. “Then let me tell you this. If it turns out that it is absolutely necessary to do so, if it is, as they say, a case of life or death, I can prove that I couldn’t have gotten home until at least a quarter after six on Monday morning.”
This time I really did stare at him.
“Until after six?” I said.
He nodded.
“I can produce a witness, if, as I have said, it actually comes to that point.”
I felt sudden embarrassment and had to turn my eyes away. The thought of Charles Merriweather spending the night with some cheap little floosie. . . .
But he didn’t give me a chance to continue with these speculations and, God knows, I didn’t want to. I found it extremely painful to believe that Charles Merriweather could have been so venal.
“And so you see, Howard,” he said. “There just isn’t any chance of my being guilty. Now you better run along and see what can be done about getting bail money and whatever else has to be done. And one other thing. Ann seems to be taking this pretty well, but I would appreciate your kind of keeping an eye on her. There are bound to be reporters out there when she gets back.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” I said, and I am afraid I found it just the slightest bit difficult to keep a certain note of coldness out of my voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll see to things.”
