“Five of ‘em,” commented the sheriff. “Well, it could have been worse. It really is only four because I’ve known Ah Sing since I was ten inches tall, and he wouldn’t -“
“Pardon,” said Chan.
Mr. Holt laughed. “I know,” he said. “That’s no way for a sheriff to act. Getting ideas all set in advance - anything can happen, at that. Well, that’s lesson number one. Just deal ‘em out to me as we go. And now, Inspector, you just go ahead and solve this case, and don’t pay any attention to me.”
“Ah, but I must pay attention to you. You are constituted authority in this place, and everything I do must be done with your approval and permission.”
“Granted in advance,” nodded Holt. “What I want is results, and I guess you can get ‘em. You see, I got a sort of family reputation to uphold -“
Chan nodded. “Yes - I have heard of your honorable father. Maybe we also call him in. It has well been said - in time of severe illness summon three doctors. One might be good.”
“Dad was good,” the young man replied softly. “But he’s blind now.”
“A terrible pity,” Charlie said. “But even a blind man, if he has been over the road before, may point out the way. Just now, however, you and I are in charge. You have spoken of lesson number one. May I, with all humility, now proffer the second lesson?”
“Shoot,” said Holt.
“It has been my good fortune to know famous detectives, some from Scotland Yard. All these say, in case of homicide, first duty of detective is to examine position of body as it fell. What does that examination suggest to you?”
The boy considered. “I should say - well, she may have been shot from the balcony. Or at least by some one standing in the window.”
“Precisely. The body is well arranged to present that effect. Let us now examine the room. Kindly come and view this desk. You observe upon it fine particles of - what?”
“Tobacco,” Holt answered.
“Correct. Very fine tobacco, such as is contained in cigarettes. Observe these two boxes, in which cigarettes of two brands are kept. What strikes you?”
“Somebody got twisted and put the wrong lids on them.”
“So it would seem,” Chan nodded. “Somebody was in very great hurry, no doubt. The time for escape was brief, for the shot was heard instantly below. We will open boxes.” He did so, using his handkerchief, which he pulled from under the weapon. “Behold. Cigarettes are not piled in neat order, but are in unsettled state. They were tossed back hurriedly. What shall we say to that? Was there a struggle at this desk? When last I saw Madame Landini she was seated here. Was the struggle here, and was she then dragged to window in hope to make it appear killing was done from balcony? Why else should there be this frantic effort to tidy desk? The time was brief, but there was just enough, perhaps - though great haste was needed, so great that wrong lids got on to boxes. The killer could have so performed, then fled through open window and escaped into another room that opens on balcony. I should have examined those rooms at once - it may be killer lurked there until all were crowded into this study, then moved away - perhaps crowded into study himself. You will perceive that your new assistant has sinking spells of stupidity.”
“Ain’t we all?” grinned Holt. “What you say’s mighty interesting. I take it you think, then, that the lady was shot by some one who was with her in this room, and not from the balcony?”
Chan shrugged. “I am merely putting facts on parade. I find it wise not to draw conclusion too rapidly. We get answer too quick, we may be wrong, like my children who labor with algebra. I leave it open for present. Lady may, in spite of all I say, have been shot from balcony. She may even have been shot on balcony, and taken step back into room before falling. Perhaps doctor can tell us that. We will now travel to balcony, if you please.”
All four stepped through the windows, past the dead Landini, and came into the bracing night air. The lake lay calm and chill under the full moon, the stars here were dim and remote, Chan noted, lacking the friendliness of those in the Hawaiian sky. Charlie took a deep breath.
“I regret there is no snow here,” he said to Ward.
“Unfortunately, no,” his host replied. “I had this balcony cleared off when we first came, and Sing has kept it swept and garnished ever since. Otherwise the snow piles against the windows and chills the rooms.”
Charlie shrugged. “After many years I encounter snow, and the clue of the footstep is denied me. Such, I presume, is life.” He examined the scene. “Two other rooms, I perceive, open on this veranda. This one is -“
“That,” said Ward slowly, “is the room Landini used to have as a sitting-room. I have kept it - just as she left it.”
Charlie tried the window. “Locked from the inside, of course. Naturally, if killer went that way, he - or she - would attend to that. We will study threshold in the morning.” He led the way to the windows on the opposite side of the study. “And this room?” he inquired.
“It’s my bedroom,” Ward told him. “I believe Sing showed the ladies here with their wraps.” He peered through the window into the room, where a dim light was burning. “Yes - there are coats on the bed -“
“And a woman’s scarf,” added Chan, at his side. “A green scarf. The one Landini should have been clutching in her hands. Her own.”
Ward nodded. “I suppose so.” Chan tried this window with the same result as before, and they returned to the study.
“Next step,” said Chan to the sheriff, “fingerprints. Matter about which we hear so much, and from which we get so little.”
“Oh, lord, I suppose so,” the young man answered. “I’ve got a homicide squad, but he’s sick in bed. Fingerprints are in his department - I wonder if he knows it. My Dad never took a fingerprint in his life.”
“Ah, but we are more unfortunate - we live in age of science,” Charlie smiled. “Great marvels happen all times, and world gets less human by minute. Sorry to say I possess utensils to get scientific here and now. I will proceed to examine fatal pistol and discover not a print on it. The suspense will be terrible. Humbly suggest you ease your mind by careful study of room.”
He sat down at the desk and busied himself with his lampblack and brush. Don Holt began a careful survey of the room, as suggested. Dudley Ward picked up a log, and was about to place it on the fire, when a cry from Chan startled him.
“Please,” Charlie called, “just a moment, if you will be so good.”
“Why - er - what -” Ward was puzzled.
“The log, pardon me. Not just now,” Chan explained.
Ward nodded and put the log back in the basket. Presently Charlie stood up.
“Suspense now over,” he announced. “No print on pistol anywhere. Gloves, held in handkerchief, wiped clean - take your honorable choice. Something more suggestive, though - there are also no marks on lids of pretty colored boxes. I think we may go below -“
Holt approached him, holding out his great hand. In it Chan beheld a cheap little gold pin, with semi-precious stones.
“Ah - you make discovery,” Charlie said.
“Bedded deep in the carpet,” the sheriff explained. “Somebody stepped on it, I guess.”
“Plenty ladies around here,” Charlie remarked. “That was not Landini’s - we know that much. It has not the rich look of prima-donna jewelry. Let us carry it below - and I suggest that you now remove pink scarf, so we may take that also. But one thing remains to be done here. Gentlemen - if you will do me the favor to await me one moment -“
He went briskly out, and walked part way down the stairs to a point where he had a clear view of the room below. The silent little party seated there looked up at him with interest. The detective’s eye lighted on one who sat far from the others. “Mr. Ryder,” he said.
For a moment there was no reply. “Yes?” said Ryder finally.
“If you please - will you be so good as to return to the study?”
With annoying slowness, Ryder got to
his feet. Chan waited patiently. When finally the bearded man reached him on the stairs, the Chinese bowed low. “You are quite right,” he said. “He who hurries can not walk with a stately step. Precede me, I beg of you.”
They came again into the room where Landini lay. “I don’t quite know,” Ryder said, “why I should have the honor of a separate inquisition.”
“You will yet learn,” Chan assured him. “Have you met Mr. Don Holt, sheriff of this county?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure,” Ryder replied, shaking hands.
“Mr. Ryder,” Charlie began, “it is not my purpose to keep you here for long time. Before tragic passing of this lady, I visited your room with urgent message from her to you. A message which you belittled. You hurried me out, closing door almost against my back. And then -“
“Then - what?”
“Kindly detail your acts from that moment until lady’s murder.”
“A simple matter,” Ryder said easily. “I sat down and resumed my reading. Shortly afterward I heard the airplane approaching. I went on reading. Then I heard it over the house.”
“You went on reading?”
“Precisely. After a time I thought the airplane must have landed. Ellen Landini, I decided, was leaving by plane. So - I went on reading.”
“An interesting book,” Charlie nodded. “But sooner or later - you put it down.”
“Yes - I went to the door, opened it and listened. Everything was rather quiet - I couldn’t hear Landini’s voice - so I decided she must have gone out on the field. I went to the stairs -“
“One moment, please. From the time I left you, until I saw you again on the stairs, you did not visit any other part of house? This room, for example?”
“I did not.”
“You are certain on that point?”
“Of course I am.”
“Mr. Holt,” said Chan, stepping to the fireplace, “will you come here, please?” The sheriff did so. “Permit that I point out to you certain matters,” Charlie continued. “We have here” - he took up the poker - “the completely consumed ashes of a letter, written, I may tell you, on paper similar to that on desk. And over here, in far corner, we have partly consumed envelope, burned but slightly at top. Will you be so kind as to rescue same?” Holt took it up in his fingers. “What would be address on envelope, Mr. Sheriff?”
The young man examined it. “Why - it says: ‘Mr. John Ryder. Urgent. Private.’ In a big bold hand - but it doesn’t look like a man’s writing, at that.”
“Mr. Ryder will tell you whose writing it is,” Chan suggested.
Ryder glanced at it. “It is the writing,” he said, “of Ellen Landini.”
“Correct,” cried Chan. “It was addressed to you as private and urgent. It was sealed. It was torn open, and the letter removed. Who would do that, Mr. Ryder?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Ryder answered.
“Not many in this house,” Chan continued. “No gentleman, surely - no lady. Such would not tear open the letter of another, marked private. No, it appears to me, Mr. Ryder, there is only one person who could have opened that letter. Yourself.”
Ryder stared at him coldly. “A natural inference, Mr. Chan,” he replied. “However, even if you were correct - and I can tell you at once that you’re not - what of it? Surely you haven’t forgotten that at the moment Landini was killed, I was standing at the foot of the stairs, in the living-room below.”
Charlie turned to the sheriff. “You and I - we have long journey to take together,” he remarked. “Often it will seem matter of upward, no road, downward, no door. But the man with a tongue in his head can always find the way. Let us go downstairs and exercise our tongues.”
Chapter V
DOWNWARD NO DOOR
The five men descended to the living-room at once. A glance at the formidable company that awaited them there caused Charlie’s heart to sink. He looked toward the sheriff. The young man nervously cleared his throat.
“This is sure too bad,” he began. “It’s going to be pretty unpleasant for all of us, I guess. I’m Don Holt, sheriff of the county, and I don’t aim to cause no innocent person any unnecessary trouble. But I got to get to the bottom of this business, and the shorter the route, the better for all of us - well, most of us, anyhow. I’ve asked Inspector Chan, who’s had more experience in this line than I have, to give me a hand here, an’ I want to say right now, that when he asks, you answer. That’s all, I reckon.”
A diversion at the door interrupted the proceedings. Sing admitted a small gray-haired man with a black satchel, who proved to be the doctor from Tahoe Holt had mentioned. The young man took him aside for a brief talk, and then called to Sing, who led the newcomer upstairs.
“I guess we can get goin’ now,” said Holt, looking helplessly at Charlie.
Charlie nodded. “We begin with least important of the gathering,” he announced. “When fatal shot was fired, terminating brilliant career of one who was much beloved, six men were present in this room. One of these, Mr. Ryder, has already made statement. I would learn from remaining five all actions just before they met here, their conduct and locations, and when they last saw Landini. In this way, some light might be thrown. Since hour of the clock is uncertain, we can perhaps fix times by location of airplane overhead. I myself was one of these five. Answering my questions without asking same, I last saw Landini above in study while airplane was still over lake. She had requested I summon to her side Mr. Ryder, and I reported back to her he refused to accede. She was then writing hurriedly at desk. I left her, came down here, and went outside, where I eventually met Mr. Ward and Mr. Ireland at edge of field.” He turned to the aviator. “Mr. Ireland, we can pass over you completely. You can scarcely be involved in this, or have any information of any sort.”
The big Irishman nodded. “All I know is, Landini called me up to come and get her. And I came.” He looked up, and his eyes met those of his wife. “I had to,” he added. “That’s my job. I’m workin’ for others.”
“Exactly,” said Charlie. “Mr. Ward - you last saw Landini -“
“You were with me, Inspector,” Ward replied. “You remember I left the study to turn on the lights at the field, as soon as we saw the plane over the lake. The lights are worked from a small shed in back of the hangar. We keep it closed and locked. I had to get the keys, and the lock stuck - a bit rusty, I fancy. It was a hurry-up job, but I got them on in time.”
Chan turned to Ireland. “When did lights blaze on?” he asked.
“It was while I was circling over the house, I think,” the aviator said. “Thanks a lot,” he added to Ward. “But it wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t made it - the moon was good enough.”
“Leaving two of the five,” Charlie persisted. “Mr. Dinsdale and Mr. Beaton. It is my impression that neither left this room during the evening, until after the shot was fired. Am I correct?”
“In my case, yes,” Dinsdale said. “A good fire and a good drink - all the airplanes in the world landing in the back yard couldn’t rout me out. Yes - I sat here, right from the time I came until we heard the shot and ran upstairs.”
“And Mr. Beaton was with you?”
“Well - not all the time -“
“No - no, I wasn’t, that’s true.” Young Beaton stood up, fragile and pale and evidently very nervous. “You see - I went outside. You remember you went through the room, Mr. Chan, and then we heard you talking with some one out there, and in a minute Doctor Swan came in. He said the airplane was a beautiful sight, or something like that, so I said I guessed I’d have a look at it too. I went out - it was just coming in from over the lake then. I stepped down on to the path, and suddenly I heard a voice up above me.”
“Ah - you heard a voice,” repeated Charlie with sudden interest.
“Yes - it - it was Ellen - I couldn’t mistake that, of course. And I heard her say - she was calling to somebody, really - I heard her call: ‘Oh, it’s you, is it? I’m freezing - get me m
y scarf. It’s on the bed in the next room. The green one.’”
Chan smiled with sudden understanding. “Ah - most interesting. You heard Miss Landini ask for her scarf?”
“Yes, yes,” cried the boy eagerly. His manner was almost pathetically ingenuous. “It’s true, Mr. Chan. It really is. I know it sounds -“
“Let us not trouble how it sounds. Continue, please.”
“I went a little farther along the path, and I saw Landini standing alone on the balcony just over the front door. She was looking up and waving her handkerchief. Then the airplane came down terribly close, and began to circle around the house. I started to cough and realized I didn’t have my hat or overcoat - so I hurried inside. Anyhow - the picture sort of sickened me - Ellen standing there and waving like a mad woman -“
“That’s O.K., Inspector,” Dinsdale said. “He was out there only a few minutes.”
“But long enough,” shrugged Chan, “to hear Landini demand a scarf. Her green scarf. How much better, Mr. Beaton, if you had not added that last.”
The boy’s face contorted. “But it’s the truth,” he cried. “I’m telling it to you just as it happened. Somebody came into that room, and she asked for her scarf. And - and -“
“And the person, intending murder and wishing to incriminate innocent girl, returned with your sister’s scarf. You are asking me to believe that?”
“I’m not asking you to believe anything,” the boy almost screamed. “I’m just telling you what happened. I’m just trying to help you - and you won’t believe me - you won’t believe me -“
“Never mine, Hughie.” His sister got up and patted him on the back. “Please don’t get so upset.”
“It happened, I tell you.”
“I know. I know.”
“Thank you, my boy,” Charlie said gently. “I have not said I do not believe you. As a matter of fact -” He paused, his eyes on the sheriff. Mr. Holt was staring at Leslie Beaton with the most unsheriff-like look Chan ever remembered having seen in his long career. He sighed. A new complication, perhaps.
Charlie Chan [6] The Keeper of the Keys Page 6
