Lucy Hamilton had driven Shayne’s car home after they took the half-hysterical and almost incoherent Mona Bayliss to police headquarters, and she was waiting for him with an open cognac bottle on the table just before midnight when a police car dropped him in front of her apartment.
He looked tired and depressed as he strode in, and Lucy quickly poured him a drink and asked wonderingly, “Did anything go wrong, Michael? From the way that Bayliss woman was babbling I thought the whole case was solved.”
“It’s solved, all right,” Shayne took a long swallow of cognac and grimaced, but not over the taste of it. “It’s all such a damned nasty mess,” he exploded. “My God! that bastard is a complete psycho. When he realized that Mona was spilling her guts and the jig was up, he didn’t bother to confess, by God. He boasted about his smartness and what a perfect murder plan he’d worked out. He’s not half as bothered about being executed as he is because things went wrong and he’s afraid people won’t think he’s as smart as he thinks he is. What a character.”
“Who, Michael?”
He lowered his glass slowly and stared at her. “What?”
Lucy Hamilton wet her lips and said, “Who? I’ve got a whole list of questions you’re going to answer before you leave here tonight, and that’s the first one.”
“Who… what?”
“Who did it? Was it Paul Nathan or Eli?”
“My God, I thought you knew. You heard Mona confessing her part.”
“I heard her raving about how she was just an innocent bystander… how she’d been sucked into impersonating Elsa here in order to frame her for a divorce. But all she ever said was ‘he’. I’ve been sitting here for an hour trying to figure it out, and everything I know about it points to Eli just about as much as it does to Paul. Maybe more, with him being the only left-handed one around.”
“It was Paul, of course. That left-handed deal was a good stunt. He’s secretly been practicing using his left hand for a year… writing with it mostly… just to set up that phony Lambert identity and the suicide notes which could never be traced to him by the handwriting. He admits that killing Max Wentworth with a left-handed blow was a sudden inspiration… just to confuse the issue… and hoping it would point to Eli.”
“A year?” Lucy echoed. “Then he planned to murder Elsa all along?”
“Ever since he married her. He never told Mona, of course, but he did tell her he was just marrying Elsa for her money and if she’d play along with him he’d manage a divorce later and a big cash settlement. In the meantime, he used some of Elsa’s money to set Mona up in that apartment where he visited using a mustache and tinted glasses as a disguise.”
“The elevator boy identified Joe Grogan’s picture as her visitor,” Lucy reminded him.
“That’s what really clinched it for me. That’s when I realized that almost any man of medium size and build, wearing that mustache and those glasses, would pass for any other. I knew, then, that Paul had worn the disguise that afternoon when he rented the apartment, and then turned the mustache and glasses over to Joe Grogan to wear up here that evening and let Mona into the apartment… with her wearing a duplicate of Elsa’s hat which Paul had provided.”
“Please start at the beginning, Michael. How did he get Grogan to do it?”
“Same way he got Mona to impersonate Elsa. By telling him it was to get divorce evidence. Grogan came to the apartment and made those phone calls to the Nathan residence…”
“What about those calls? What did he say to Elsa?”
“What did it matter what he said? ‘Let me speak to Helen, please. Oh, sorry, I’ve got the wrong number.’ He could say anything, just so it was on record the calls had been made. And that first evening he made a local call to Mona to tell her it was okay for her to show up.”
“And that passionate love letter in her purse… and her own nightgown and slippers… Paul planted those, too.” Lucy shuddered.
“Sure. It was simple enough. Joe just stayed in the room each Friday night long enough for Mona to settle down and mix herself a drink… then he went out the fire escape and over to his job on the Beach… where his regular hours were from midnight to four as I guessed they might be.”
“But last night… Mona stayed home and Elsa herself came.”
“That’s right. It was the pay-off. Both Mona and Joe understood that the two previous week-ends had been rehearsals to establish Elsa’s guilt. Joe came here last night as usual for Mrs. Conrad to see him, and let Paul come up the fire escape. Then he got into his pajamas and robe because he believed that Elsa was coming and that a detective was to break in and take a picture for evidence. As soon as he was undressed in the bedroom, Paul very efficiently knocked him unconscious with a sap, and then took off his own clothes… which were new and had no cleaner’s or laundry marks… and dressed in Joe’s. His whole plan, you see, was actually dependent on making it impossible to identify the dead man… presumably some person named Robert Lambert.
“Then Paul made the call to his wife last night. He told her some yarn to lure her over to that apartment. He had the suicide notes all written, and that extra clinching love letter in his pocket, and the cyanide ready in two cocktail glasses. When Elsa walked in unsuspectingly, he mixed two of her favorite cocktails and said the others would be along soon, and she drank hers off while he dropped his own on the floor. He had it all figured out, you see. He didn’t miss a bet. He boasted about that. How he figured the police would analyze that spilled cocktail, and it had to be just as deadly as the one Elsa drank if they were to believe the suicide notes.
“She dropped dead in her tracks, and he wiped his prints from his glass, pressed Joe’s fingers onto it, and tossed it there on the rug. Then he dragged Joe into the living room in pajamas and robe, got the shotgun from the closet where he had previously secreted it, and set the scene for suicide. There was no hurry. He had all the time he needed… until the shotgun went off with the muzzle in Joe’s mouth and his own hands convincingly pressed around the barrel in just the right place, and even Joe’s bare toe on the trigger.”
Shayne stopped abruptly and shrugged, tilted his glass up to empty it down his throat. “With the door bolted and the inside chain on, he had plenty of time after the gun-blast to get down the fire escape and be blocks away from here before anybody could break in and find the dead couple.”
Shayne shook his head wonderingly and sighed, and poured out more cognac. “It’s a damned wonder he didn’t get away with it. What a hell of a shock it must have been to the guy the next day when Max called him up to say that he had been on his tail the whole of the previous evening… had watched him go up the fire escape in this building, and come down it later. As soon as Max learned what had happened here last night, he knew he had Paul Nathan dead to rights. Max’s mistake was in underestimating the man. He was marked for death when he made the phone call to Paul. Max was a damned fool. With two down, you can’t expect a murderer to hesitate over a third one.”
Shayne took a long drink and stretched his legs out in front of him and regarded Lucy benignly. “Have I answered all the questions you had saved up for me?”
“Wait a minute. I told you I had a list made up.” She got a sheet of paper from the table beside her, and wrinkled her nose at it.
“What caused Elsa to have the detective check to see if Paul and Mona were seeing each other?”
“Since they’re both dead I don’t suppose we’ll ever know the answer to that one. We know that he was seeing her at that apartment, and we can suppose Elsa got suspicious somehow.”
“All right. What made you suspect that the woman who came to the apartment those two Friday nights wasn’t Elsa… but was someone wearing a hat like hers?”
“Mrs. Conrad practically told me that. The first two visits the woman was very careful not to let Mrs. Conrad see her face, tilting her head the way I had you do tonight. But last night… when it was really Elsa for the first time, she turned at the door and calmly look
ed Mrs. Conrad in the face. You see, she had nothing to conceal at that point.”
“And when you thought it was another woman impersonating Elsa, you thought it might have been Suzie Conroy?”
“I just didn’t know. It seemed a possibility. At that point, you see, there was nothing to indicate that Paul had been seeing Mona. I knew he had been taking Suzie out. And that, Paul admits, was just to becloud the issue. He intentionally and openly made a play for her so if anyone started looking for another woman they would be sidetracked. Okay?”
“I guess. But right now: What about that fifty-thousand agreement with Mr. Armbruster? He hasn’t signed it yet. Do you think he will?”
Shayne grinned and said, “Let’s not be mercenary, Angel.”
“It isn’t being mercenary, Michael. It’s just… you don’t realize how many cases you’ve been taking recently without earning a penny. You can’t stay in business that way.”
Shayne kept the grin on his face and told her with provoking good humor, “I think Eli will pay off. Tell you what… if he does, let’s close up the office and take a long vacation. Hawaii, Tahiti…He waved a big hand. “You name it. Okay?”
“Do you mean it, Michael?” She got up and came over to him. “We haven’t had a vacation for years and years.”
“Sure I mean it.” He put his two big hands on both sides of her face and pulled her down to press a kiss on her lips. “Let’s start collecting travel folders tomorrow, and I’ll brace Eli for his fifty grand on Monday.”
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The Corpse That Never Was ms-45 Page 14
