The Casebook of Sidney Zoom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  There were tears in his eyes as he talked. His voice choked at times, but he talked freely. His words did not seem words alone, but his speech was more the outpouring of a soul, a lonely, terrified soul that had found life too stern for it, yet had recoiled from the black abyss of mystery which comes after life.

  “There’s no way out. It will kill the folks. The officers, are looking for me now. But I didn’t do it. I couldn’t have done it — oh, why won’t they listen?

  “It’s so foolish. Why should I go to all that trouble to steal a diamond necklace? I’d have simply skipped out, not returned with that miserable imitation.”

  He halted for a moment, and the girl nodded, squeezed his hand.

  “Of course,” she said.

  The calm faith of her tone heartened him, and he went on. His tale was more coherent now.

  “I’m at Cremlin’s, you know, the jewelry house. They used me as messenger to take gems out for inspection. There was a Franklin T. Vane at the Westmoreland Hotel who wanted a diamond necklace. I took him two yesterday. Neither satisfied him. Today he telephoned and wanted the same two brought back for a second inspection.

  “I took them. He had two men in his room. One was an expert appraiser. The appraiser examined the necklaces, advised against a purchase, and I had to take them both back.

  “I’d swear they put the same necklaces back in the bag. I know they did. And then — well, then I did the thing that damns me. I didn’t go directly back to the store.

  “There’s a girl. She wanted to see me about something awfully important — we were going to be married — and she’d telephoned. I though it’d be all right to run a little out of the way to see her.

  “I wasn’t there over ten minutes, and only she and I were there. She didn’t even know what I had in the bag. But when I got back to the store — well, the genuine necklaces weren’t in the bag. There were two paste imitations, fairly good imitations, but not perfect.

  “They telephoned for an officer, and they gave me two hours to restore the originals. I told them the whole story, but they wouldn’t believe it.

  “Franklin Vane was awfully bitter. He said I looked nervous when I was in his room at the hotel. And, of course, the others back him up in his statements about returning the originals to me. There was Cohen, the expert appraiser, and there was Purdy, from the bank. The word of those men can’t be doubted.”

  The young man gave a dry, choking sob.

  “She won’t believe me. She won’t even see me again. And the officers are looking for me. I got in a panic, knocked down the chap who was guarding me and bolted through the back door.

  “Think of my folks. My mother’s sick — I can’t go on with it. I’ve got to end it all. Kindness is wasted. Oh, why didn’t he let me go through with it. It’d have all been over by this time.”

  The girl stroked his cold hand.

  “This girl, how long had you known her?”

  “A week, but it was — gee, it was love at first sight.”

  Vera Thurmond nodded, then got to her feet with the easy grace of a trained dancer, walked to the inner door, flung it open.

  “Come in,” she said to Sidney Zoom.

  Sidney Zoom entered the room, the dog at his heels. The hawklike eyes fastened themselves upon the shamed face of the young man, then turned to the girl.

  “Well?”

  In short, simple words she formed crisp sentences that told him the story of the young man. During the recital, the visitor nodded from time to time, watched the expressionless face of Sidney Zoom anxiously.

  When Vera had finished her recital, Sidney Zoom regarded the young man, “Your name?”

  “Otto Shaffer.”

  “What sort of a bag did you carry the diamonds in?”

  “A black hand bag.”

  “Locked?”

  “No, but I held it in my hand all the time.”

  “The girl’s name?”

  “Lois Manly.”

  “What does she do?”

  “Works — I don’t know just where.”

  “Vane? What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing. He gave credit references at the store. He was just a customer.”

  Sidney Zoom made a swift turn or two about the room, then his eyes caught those of his secretary, made a suggestive flicker toward an alcohol lamp upon which sat a teapot.

  The girl sighed, set about brewing tea. Sidney Zoom walked the floor in purposeful concentration.

  At length the tea was made. The girl set out three cups. As she poured the tea into the cup that was placed nearest the hand of Otto Shaffer, she gave a slight flickering motion of her left wrist. A small portion of white powder drifted unnoticed to the cup, was instantly dissolved in the tea.

  They drank, talked for a few minutes. Then, as the eyes of the young man filmed under the influence of the drug, Sidney Zoom walked to a closet, flung it open.

  Within the closet were numerous disguises, wigs, mustaches, spectacles, hats, coats, beards, grease paint, mirror, stains. In the hands of a novice they would have been ludicrous. But Sidney Zoom had been known as the Master of the Disguise when he had served the intelligence departments of three nations.

  The young man tried to say something. His head nodded forward, then his eyes closed in surrender, and he slept.

  “You gave him a strong dose?”

  “Yes. He’ll sleep for twenty-four hours.”

  “He’ll need to. This may prove a difficult case. I think I know what happened, but I can’t tell until I’ve looked up the girl.”

  As he spoke his deft fingers fitted a small mustache to his upper lip. A stick of grease paint slid rapidly over his features, left little lines which suddenly blended into a composite whole. The man had apparently aged twenty years in as many seconds.

  “You’ll be back, when?”

  “Some time before morning. I’ll put that young man to bed.”

  And he stooped, picked up the sleeping form, carried it with effortless ease to a bunk, covered it with a blanket, loosened the clothes.

  “It seems horrible to drug them this way.”

  Sidney Zoom snorted.

  “Getting squeamish? Quit if you are. We’re snatching souls back from black despair. It takes rest. And we can’t soothe their nerves until we’ve relieved their troubles. We can’t do that by a wave of the hand.”

  Her eyes were starry now as she regarded him.

  “But you seem to do it by magic.”

  “Well, it’s hard work.”

  His tone was gruff, the eyes busy surveying a mirrored reflection of his face.

  “It’s a wonderful work!”

  He either did not notice the admiration in her tone, or else chose to disregard it. His hands busied themselves over a selection of garments, finally removed a rather shabby suit of brown worsted, shiny, baggy, frayed.

  “We deal,” he said, “in lost souls, and our methods must be more or less irregular... I’ll be back by ten o’clock in the morning.”

  IV

  But it was noon before the deck planks thudded to the returning steps of Sidney Zoom.

  The girl rushed to meet him. The dog flung himself wearily in the sunshine. Sidney Zoom’s skin showed some trace of graying fatigue, but his eyes were as bright as ever.

  “You’ve found out something?”

  The Master of the Disguise nodded. His voice was sharp, his words rapid.

  “As I suspected. There were altogether too many witnesses to what happened in that room at the Westmoreland Hotel. It was too much of a coincidence that two men who were gem experts and of unimpeachable veracity should have seen those gems returned to the bag, the bag given to Shaffer.

  “That would lead one to believe Franklin T. Vane knew of the impending robbery. So I started with Vane. I’ve traced his record, but it’s been a job. He’s really a fence from Chicago.

  “And the girl, Lois Manly, was an accomplice, of course. Thus it’s not difficult to reconstruct what h
appened.

  “The girl had the messenger in love with her. Vane had a credit at the jewelry store. He ordered gems for inspection. While he had them in his hands he observed sufficient details to enable copies to be made. And he had a copy of the black bag made up.

  “Then he surrounded himself with reputable witnesses, telephoned for the same gems to be sent up again. And Lois Manly, relying on the young man’s love for her, gave him a pleading call for help. He must stop on the way back to the store.

  “The boy called on her, his bag contained two necklaces that had been determined in advance by the real criminal. It only remained for the girl to switch the imitation bag with the duplicate necklaces. No one thought of bag and everything being changed. And, of course, the fact that Shaffer had strayed from the direct route to the store was all that was needed to clinch the case against him.”

  Vera Thurmond nodded brightly.

  “So you’ve notified the police of the real facts?”

  Sidney Zoom flashed her a single glance of cold scorn.

  “Certainly not. Your sex is impulsive, and you seem to share the common fault. The police, indeed! What would they do? What could they do? They’d bungle the case, of course. They wouldn’t move until they’d looked Vane up, and by that time he’d have completely covered up the crime.

  “No, Miss Thurmond, I shall resort to my usual methods. I returned for another disguise. Did you, by any chance, ever hear of Willie the Weeper?”

  “Willie the Weeper? What an odd name!”

  “A rather unfortunate creature of the underworld, Miss Thurmond, who has been famed in song and fable. He is, of course, not a real character, and yet it is a character that has always appealed to me. I rather fancy I shall become Willie the Weeper.”

  She knew him too well to ask for further explanations.

  “I’ve switched on the electric coffee-pot and toaster. Our patient is still sleeping.”

  Sidney Zoom nodded, absently, strode across the deck, entered a cabin and began throwing garments in a suitcase.

  Then he bathed, shaved, and came to coffee and toast as Sidney Zoom, an eccentric, millionaire yacht owner, cruising about for pleasure.

  “Keep the boy asleep until midnight. By that time I hope to have a solution.”

  “Will I hear from you before then?”

  “No.”

  “Will you tell me your plans?”

  “No, Certainly not.”

  She propped her elbows on the table, regarded Sidney Zoom with level eyes, eyes which contained a glint of maternal tenderness, and also a hint of an emotion that was warmer.

  “What a strange creature, what a wonderful man you are!”

  “The coffee,” said Sidney Zoom in measured tones, “is excellent.”

  And the girl’s throaty laughter pealed through the cabin.

  “Thank you so much.”

  And again she laughed.

  “Your amusement comes from...”

  “From your evident fear that I’m going to bite you,” said the girl, arising from the table. “Do you know, I believe your hard-boiled manner with women, amounting at times to rudeness, is caused by... well, guess.”

  Sidney Zoom gulped half a cup of coffee in a single scalding swallow, and scraped back his chair.

  “Is caused by fear,” laughed the girl. “And some day I’m likely to puncture your pose just to hear you go ‘boom.’ ”

  But Sidney Zoom might not have heard the words. In cold dignity that had something of hostility in it, he picked up his suitcase, crossed to the companionway, flung back a single comment over his shoulder.

  “Midnight,” he snapped. “Rip, you’ll stay here and guard the girl.”

  The dog paused, mid-stride, cocked his ears, lowered his tail. For a long moment he gazed after his departing master, hoping against hope for some change in orders.

  There was none. A door banged. Rapid feet crossed the deck. The dog stood, listening, head on one side. And Vera Thurmond, swooping her supple body down and around, caught his head in her hands and implanted a swift kiss upon the shaggy forehead.

  In the after cabin, Otto Shaffer, his nerves relaxed by a sleeping potion that brought a deep, natural sleep, slumbered as peacefully as a child.

  V

  Sidney Zoom strode to the desk at the Madison House and fastened his glittering eyes on the clerk.

  “A suite. The best in the house.”

  The clerk spun the register, glanced at the signature, at the single suitcase.

  “The best in the house will run a hundred and forty dollars a day.”

  Sidney Zoom flipped a roll of currency from his pocket. The outside bill contained a five followed by two ciphers.

  “The rest of my baggage will follow. This will establish my credit.”

  “Yes, Mr. Zoom. Yes, indeed,” purred the deferential clerk.

  “And I wish to purchase some rather expensive diamonds — oh, say around a hundred thousand dollars,” continued Mr. Zoom. “Can you refer me to a good store. I’m somewhat of a stranger here.”

  The clerk’s eyes widened, caught those of the house detective who was loitering near the desk.

  “Cremlin’s is right across the street. They’re rated as the most exclusive in the city. I can ring them up and make an appointment, Mr. Zoom.”

  Sidney Zoom nodded his acquiescence.

  “My sister will join me later. It’s her birthday, and I want to get something appropriate. Diamonds are her birthstone. Please tell Cremlin’s that I will be over there within half an hour.”

  And then Sidney Zoom strolled to the elevator, was shown to his suite, and gave the bell boy a ten-dollar bill in token of appreciation for having a suitcase carried a hundred feet.

  Thirty minutes later he beamed upon the clerk, shook hands with the house detective, strolled across the street and purchased one fifteen-thousand-dollar diamond necklace, one ten-thousand-dollar diamond brooch. And he paid for these articles in cash, upon the distinct understanding, however, that they could be returned at any time within twenty-four hours and the cash refunded.

  Then Sidney Zoom strolled back to his room in the hotel, telephoned for the house detective, opened an excellent bottle of Scotch, and had some ginger ale sent up by a bell boy.

  “Think she’ll like ’em?” asked Sidney Zoom, flipping his hand toward the dresser.

  Harry Colman, the house detective, stared with wide eyes and a mouth that tried to appear sophisticated, yet showed a tendency to sag in a gape.

  “Some ice!”

  “She should like them. She’ll be in during the next two or three hours. I’ve left instructions with the clerk to give her the duplicate key. My sister, you know, the one I’m buying the diamonds for. It’s her birthday.”

  “Yeah,” remarked Harry Colman, pouring himself another drink. “You’ll leave the stones in the safe?”

  “No, I think not. They’ll be safe in the room. No one knows they’re here, and I’d like to have Alberta find them on the dresser when she comes in.”

  Harry Colman sat the whisky bottle back upon the table with such violence that the resulting thump sounded like the stroke of a hammer.

  “You’re going to... leave... those... stones... here!”

  “Certainly.”

  “But there’s a fortune there. The hotel won’t be responsible for them. Why, there’s half a dozen pass-keys out for the rooms on this floor. Good heavens...”

  The cold, passively hostile eyes of Sidney Zoom impaled the startled orbs of the house detectives.

  “And, of course, there being no responsibility on the part of the hotel, it is no concern of yours what I do with them.”

  Harry Colman sighed, averted his gaze.

  “Except as a matter of friendly advice. And, of course, the hotel doesn’t get any benefit from having a burglary pulled in one of the rooms.”

  Sidney Zoom abstracted a cigarette from a gold case, took two deep drags at it, then flipped it into a porcelain cuspidor with
casual fingers.

  “Have some more of that Scotch,” he remarked, as though the matter had been closed.

  Harry Colman poured himself a stiff drink.

  “When’ll your sister be in?”

  “Inside of a couple of hours.”

  “How’ll we know the jane’s your sister?”

  “My sister,” said Sidney Zoom, with that dignified stupidity which can only be safely assumed by millionaires who casually purchase twenty-five thousand dollars in gems and leave them hanging around a hotel bedroom, “wouldn’t lie about it. When she states that she is my sister you may accept her word.”

  Harry Colman drained his second drink and reached for his third.

  “And,” resumed Sidney Zoom, “you’re about the only person who knows the gems are here.”

  “Case of a robbery that’d make it interesting for me,” commented the house detective.

  Zoom waved his hand toward the bottle.

  “Take it with you. If you’ll excuse me, I wish to bathe and change my clothes.”

  The house detective accepted the dismissal, left the bottle on the table.

  “And if you think this room ain’t in for some special watching during the next two hours you got another think coming,” he promised grimly as the door slammed.

  Sidney Zoom rasped the key in the lock, then set to work.

  He dragged the clothes from the bed, even slit the mattress with a sharp knife. He cut the pillows, scattered the feathers about the room. He took the bottle of excellent Scotch, emptied it down the drain, pulled the drawers from the bureau, ripped up a section of the carpet. He opened his suitcase, scattered his things about the feather-strewn floor.

  Then he took the jewels from their ornate caskets, slipped them in the pocket of his coat, tore the paper wrappings into fine bits and threw them in the waste basket.

  When he had completed this work of destruction he took from an inner pocket a grimed, soiled card. Upon this card was scrawled in pencil the number of a room, the name of a hotel and the cryptic words, “Stuff that’s too hot to handle.”