The Casebook of Sidney Zoom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

“I’m a little confused. What is the idea of all of you men, who seem to be officers, coming here and asking me these questions? I’ve taken nothing — done nothing.”

  Sergeant Gromley nodded, a swift, single shake of the head, belligerent, aggressive.

  “No one accused you of it — yet.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Information.”

  “About what?”

  “About who might have had a motive for murdering Harry Raine.”

  The girl came to her full height. The face paled. The eyes widened until the whites showed upon all sides of the irises. The forehead wrinkled into a suggestion of horror.

  “Murdered?” she asked.

  Her voice was weak, quavering.

  “Murdered!” snapped Sergeant Gromley.

  “I... I don’t know.”

  “Was there bad blood between you?”

  She hesitated, then became regal in her bearing.

  “Yes,” she said, “and I’m glad he’s dead — if he is dead. He was a brute, parsimonious, narrow-minded, bigoted, selfish.”

  Sergeant Gromley nodded casually. The character of the dead man was of no consequence to him. It mattered not how much the man might have deserved to die. It was the fact that the law requires vengeance which mattered to the officer.

  “Who murdered him?”

  “I... I don’t know.”

  “Have you a necklace of strung rubies, or imitation rubies, or red glass beads? Think carefully. Your answer may mean a lot to you — and don’t lie.”

  “What have red beads got to do with it?”

  “Perhaps nothing, perhaps a lot. Have you such a necklace?”

  Her lips clamped tightly.

  “No!”

  “Do you know any one who has such a necklace?”

  “No!”

  These single syllables of negation were explosive in their staccato emphasis.

  Sergeant Gromley remained undisturbed. There was a lot of ground to cover yet, and the veteran investigator feared no lie. The only thing that caused him consternation was a suspect who would not talk. Given one who would answer questions, and he was always certain of ultimate triumph.

  “Where have you been since nine o’clock?”

  “In bed!”

  The answer came as though it had been rehearsed.

  Sergeant Gromley raised his eyebrows.

  “In bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Since nine o’clock?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer was surly this time, defiant, as though she had been trapped into some answer she had not anticipated and intended to stick by her guns.

  “What time did you retire?”

  “At the time I told you, nine o’clock.”

  The sergeant’s smile was sarcastic.

  “You went to bed at nine o’clock?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked over the graceful lines of her figure, the striking beauty of the face.

  “Rather early for a young and attractive widow to retire on a Saturday night, isn’t it?”

  She flushed. “No matter what you are investigating, that is none of your business. You asked me a question, and I answered!”

  Sergeant Gromley’s smile was irritating. His manner was that of a cat who has a mouse safely hooked in its claws, who is willing to play for a while to torture the animal.

  “Rather a coincidence that I was the one who selected the hour of nine o’clock, and you answered so promptly. I am just wondering, Miss Raine, if you hadn’t resolved to give the bed story as an alibi, and when I asked you where you had been since nine o’clock, rather than asked you where you had been during the last hour, you said ‘in bed’ because you had expected the question to be different. Then, having said it the first time, you decided to stick to your story.”

  She was cool, defiant, but her shoulders were commencing to rise and fall with more rapid breathing.

  “Your reasoning is too complicated for my childlike brain. Just confine yourself to necessary questions, please.”

  The sergeant continued to press the point.

  “It is rather a peculiar coincidence that I should have been the one who predicted the exact time of your retirement by asking you the question, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “That, also, is a matter upon which I cannot give you an answer.”

  She swept her eyes momentarily from the boring eyes of the sergeant to the ring of curious faces which watched her, faces which formed a background, semicircled about the door, just inside of the room.

  And, as Sidney Zoom caught her glittering eyes, jet black, shiny with excitement, his long forefinger raised casually to his lips and pressed firmly against them.

  Her eyes had left his face before the significance of the gesture impressed her. Then they darted back with a look of swift questioning in them.

  But Sidney Zoom, taking no chances that his signal might be seen and interpreted by one of the officers, was scratching the side of his nose with slow deliberation.

  The girl returned her eyes to the sergeant, but now there was a look of puzzled uncertainty in them.

  “Do you know what the weather is like?” asked Sergeant Gromley.

  “It’s showering.”

  He smiled again.

  “Really, Miss Raine, you are remarkable. It was quite dear at nine o’clock. The showers started about nine forty-five and continued quite steadily until just before midnight.”

  She bit her lip.

  “And you were asleep?” pursued the sergeant.

  Quick triumph gleamed in her eyes as she swooped down upon the opening he had left her with that eagerness which an amateur always shows in rushing into the trap left by a canny professional.

  “I didn’t say I was asleep.”

  “Oh, then, you weren’t asleep?”

  “No, not all the time.”

  “And that’s the way you knew it was raining?”

  “Yes. The rain beat against the window. I heard it, got up and looked out. There was some lightning, thunder, rain.”

  “And that’s the only way you knew it was raining?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “Yes. Of course!”

  “And you weren’t out of this room after nine o’clock to-night?”

  “Would I be likely to leave it, attired as I am?”

  “Answer the question. Were you out of the room after nine o’clock?”

  This time she shifted her eyes, trying to escape the pinning down of the facts as though she could avoid them by moving her eyes from the steady stare of the inquisitor.

  And her eyes instinctively sought those of Sidney Zoom.

  This time there could be no mistaking the impressive significance of the gesture he made, the forceful pressing of a rigid forefinger against his closed lips.

  “Answer the question,” boomed Sergeant Gromley, suddenly stern, unsmiling.

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t leave the room.”

  But her eyes were hesitant, helpless, and they looked pleadingly at Sidney Zoom. The sergeant swooped, pushed aside a filmy bit of silk, reached a long arm under the edge of the bed, brought out a pair of shoes.

  “These your shoes?”

  And she knew then that she was trapped, for the shoes were soaked with rain water. The knowledge showed In the sudden panic of her eyes, the pallor of her lips.

  She looked at Sidney Zoom, suddenly stiffened.

  “I have answered quite enough of your questions, sir. I will not make any more statements until I have seen a lawyer.”

  He simulated surprise.

  “Why... Why, Miss Raine, what could you possibly want to see a lawyer about? Has any one made any accusations against you?”

  “N-n-n-oooo, I don’t know as...”

  “Then why should you want a lawyer? Do you expect accusations will be made?”

  She sucked in a rapid lungful of breath pr
eparatory to speaking, then raised her eyes once more to Zoom’s face.

  “I have nothing to say,” she said.

  The sergeant snapped out a rapid barrage of words.

  “Is it your custom to put powder on your cheeks, lip stick on your lips, have your hair freshly done up at one o’clock in the morning? Or were you expecting a call from the police, and, womanlike, wanted to look your best?”

  It was plainly a relief to her that she did not need to answer the question. She simply shook her head, but the panic of her eyes was more evident now.

  Sergeant Gromley turned to the men.

  “Frisk the place, boys.”

  Chapter IV

  Jewels in the Mail Box

  He spoke quietly, but the effect of his order was instantaneous. The men scattered like a bevy of quail. Drawers were pulled open, skilled fingers explored the contents. They even went to the bed, felt in the mattress, probed in the pillowcase.

  Sergeant Gromley kept his eyes upon the defiant, but panicky eyes of the young woman.

  “It might be much better for you, later on, if you told the truth now,” he said, gently, trying to make the fatherly tone of his admonition break through the wall of reserve that had sealed her lips.

  He was almost successful. The touch of fatherly sympathy in his voice brought instant moisture to her eyes. Her lips parted, then damped tightly dosed again. She blinked back the tears.

  “I have nothing to say.”

  One of the officers turned from the dresser.

  “Look what’s here,” he said.

  And he held up a fragment of necklace, made of fine red beads, either rubies or colorful imitations, dangling with red splendor in the light.

  “Where was it?”

  “Hidden. Fastened to the back of the mirror with a bit of chewing gum. You can see where the string was broken, then it was tied up at the ends, and fastened to the back of the mirror.”

  Sergeant Gromley grunted.

  “Let’s see the gum.”

  The officer handed him a wad of chewing gum. The outside was barely dry, had not commenced to harden. It was still soft and pliable.

  Sergeant Gromley fastened his eyes upon the young woman once more.

  “Yours?” he asked.

  She glanced swiftly at Sidney Zoom, shook her head.

  “I’ll answer no more questions.”

  Sergeant Gromley sat with his back to Sidney Zoom. He spoke now, quietly, evenly, without raising his voice.

  “Zoom, I’ve heard of you, heard of some of the help you’ve given the department. It’s customary to exclude all civilians from questionings such as these. I let you remain because of your record. Unfortunately you seem to have taken advantage of my generosity.”

  Sidney Zoom’s voice was vibrant.

  “Meaning,” he asked, “exactly what?”

  Sergeant Gromley kept his back turned.

  “Do you think,” he asked, “that I am an utter fool?”

  And Sidney Zoom, rasping out his counter question in a voice that showed he was not accustomed to take orders or criticism, snapped: “Do you want me to leave the room?”

  “Yes,” said Gromley, without turning his head.

  Sidney Zoom gained the door in two strides.

  “Come, Rip.”

  Their feet sounded in the corridor, the man’s pounding along in great strides, the dog’s pattering softly, a rattling of claws sounding upon the uncarpeted strip of floor at the sides of the hallway.

  There was a sardonic smile upon the features of Sidney Zoom as he gained the ground floor of the apartment house.

  Here were a few of the curious inmates who had been aroused by the commotion, asking questions, babbling comments which were vague surmises.

  Sidney Zoom walked to the outer lobby, paused, surveyed the row of brass letter boxes, each fitted with a keyed lock by which the box could be opened.

  Sidney Zoom paused to take from his pocket a pair of gloves. They were thin, flexible gloves, yet they insured against any casual finger-prints being left behind.

  “Fools!” he muttered to himself under his breath.

  Then he took from a pocket a bunch of keys. They were not many in number, but each had been fashioned with cunning care by a man who had made the study of locks the hobby of an adventurous lifetime.

  The third key which he tried clicked back the bolt of the mail box which went with apartment 342.

  Sidney Zoom reached a gloved hand inside the aperture, removed a wadded scarf of silk. Within the scarf were several hard objects which rattled crisply against each other.

  They might have been pebbles, or bits of glassware, but Sidney Zoom wasted no time in looking to see what they were. He simply dropped the entire bundle, scarf and all, into one of the pockets of his spacious coat, and then went out into the night.

  He paused at the nearest available telephone, a small garage where a night man regarded him with sleep swollen eyes, and telephoned to the best criminal attorney in the city.

  “This is Zoom speaking. The police are trying to pin a murder charge on a young woman, a Mrs. Eva Raine, who Eves in apartment 342 at the Matonia Apartments. They’re there now. I’m retaining you to handle the case under the blanket arrangement I have with you. Get out there at once. Tell her to keep quiet. Just tell her to shut up, and see that she does. That’s all.”

  And Sidney Zoom clicked the receiver back on its hook.

  He knew that the attorney would be there in a matter of minutes. Sidney Zoom kept him supplied with various and sundry cases which attracted the interest of the strange individual who had for his hobby the prowling of midnight streets and the matching of wits with both criminals and detectives.

  Then Sidney Zoom summoned a cab and was driven to the palatial yacht upon which he lived.

  Only when he was safely ensconced within his stateroom, did he take out and open the package which he had taken from the mail box.

  It was filled with jewels, strung, for the most part, into necklaces.

  Chapter V

  Zoom Gets in Bad

  It was ten o’clock in the morning.

  The musty air of police headquarters was filled with that stale odor which comes to rooms which are in use twenty-four hours a day.

  Captain Bill Mahoney, a small man in the early fifties, but equipped with a large mind, raised dark, speculative eyes and regarded Sidney Zoom thoughtfully.

  “Sergeant Gromley,” he said, “wants to place a charge against you for aiding and abetting a felon.”

  “The felon being whom?” asked Sidney Zoom.

  “The Raine girl.”

  Sidney Zoom tapped a cigarette impatiently upon the table, rasped a match along the sole of his shoe, lit the cigarette, shot out the match with a single swift motion of his arm.

  “Sergeant Gromley,” he said, “is a dangerous man. He is dangerous to innocent and guilty alike.”

  Captain Mahoney’s voice remained quiet.

  “He’s the best questioner in the department.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And he tells me you interfered with him in the Raine case.”

  “He’s right. I did.”

  “That’s serious, Zoom, We’ve orders to allow you to cooperate because you’ve always had a passion for justice, and you’ve helped us clear up some mighty difficult cases, but you’re going to lose your privileges.”

  Captain Mahoney was never more quiet than when enraged. Zoom had known him for years in a close friendship which was founded upon mutual respect. Yet Captain Mahoney would have been among the first to have admitted that, despite his long intimacy, he knew virtually nothing of that strange, sardonic creature who made a hobby of patrolling the midnight streets and interesting himself in odd crimes.

  Sidney Zoom regarded the smoldering tip of his cigarette.

  “I’m afraid, Zoom, I shall have to ask you to surrender your courtesy star and your commission as a special deputy. I’m sorry, but you knew the rules, and you infring
ed upon them.”

  Sidney Zoom took the articles from his pocket, passed them over, heaved a sigh.

  “I’d anticipated that, and I’m glad. I can do more fighting the police than cooperating with them.”

  He jackknifed his huge form to its full height, strode toward the door. His hand was on the knob when Captain Mahoney’s quiet voice stabbed the tense atmosphere of the room.

  “That,” he said, “disposes of my duty as an officer. Now, Zoom, would you mind telling me, as a friend, why you took advantage of the confidence which the department reposed in you?”

  “Because,” snapped Zoom, “Gromley was about to outwit an innocent woman and pin a murder upon her.”

  “He’s done it anyway.”

  “No. That he hasn’t.”

  Captain Mahoney fished a cigar from his pocket, slowly bit off the end. His dark, luminous eyes regarded Sidney Zoom with curious speculation.

  “Do you know who murdered Harry Raine?” he asked.

  “No. I know who didn’t.”

  Captain Mahoney lit his cigar.

  “I wish I’d been there last night.”

  “I wish you had, captain.”

  Captain Bill Mahoney’s eyes flashed swiftly above the first puff of blue smoke which came from his cigar.

  “Because if I had been, I’d have sensed that your interference was for the primary purpose of getting yourself kicked out. I’d have figured that you wanted most awfully to leave that room without exciting attention, and you took that way of doing it.”

  And Sidney Zoom whirled, strode back to his chair, sat down, and laughed.

  “Bill,” he said, “it’s a good thing you weren’t there. You’re a little too clever.”

  Captain Mahoney had not moved. He twisted the cigar slowly, thoughtfully, flashed his black eyes at Sidney Zoom’s hawk-like face once or twice.

  “And I have an idea you wanted to be relieved of your courtesy commission on the force because you’re figuring on a fast one, and don’t want any sense of ethics to stand in your way.”

  Zoom said nothing. For a few moments they smoked in silence.

  “Bill,” said Sidney Zoom, at length, “you’re human. Do you want to solve that Raine murder?”

  Captain Bill Mahoney spoke cautiously when he answered.

  “Gromley says it’s a perfect case, but that you and your lawyer have interfered with his proof and he may not be able to turn over enough evidence to get a conviction.”