The Paw in The Bottle

by James Hadley Chase

  Theo was dead by the time the ambulance arrived.

  VII

  They were bringing Harry Gleb down in the lift as Dawson re-entered the lobby of Park Way. Harry was handcuffed to a burly plain-clothes man. Another detective walked just behind him.

  Harry’s face was livid. When he saw Dawson, the automatic pistol in his hand, he made a dive towards him, only to be roughly jerked back by his escort.

  “I didn’t do it, Dawson!” he cried in a cracked, despairing voice. “It’s not my gun. I’ve never had a gun. You know me; I wouldn’t do a thing like that. For God’s sake, Dawson, don’t pin this on me. I didn’t do it!”

  Dawson’s hard blue eyes surveyed Harry up and down.

  “Don’t give me that stuff, Gleb,” he said roughly. “Your little pal, Theo, gave you away. I’ve got a signed statement from him swearing the gun’s yours. You’ve pulled one job too many, Harry. This is your last little effort.”

  “He’s lying !” Harry shouted. “Bring him here ! I’ll make the rat speak the truth! Bring him here !”

  “He’s dead,” Dawson said brutally, then, turning to the escort, he went on, “Take him away.”

  “Dead?” Harry cried, then as the escort began to hustle him to the door he started to struggle like a madman, and it was all the two detectives could do to get him out of the lobby and into the waiting police car.

  Newspaper reporters with a battery of cameras were waiting outside and the darkness was split open by the flash-bulbs exploding as they photographed his struggling exit. His wailing, protesting voice could be heard even as the car drove rapidly away.

  Garson, Dawson’s assistant, came up to Dawson.

  “Mr. Wesley’s arrived,” he said in a low voice. “He’s up there now.”

  Dawson nodded.

  “What I want to know is how the devil she got through the cordon?” he said, rubbing his heavy jaw. “And why did she come back on her own like that?”

  “I didn’t question Mr. Wesley,” Garson said. “He’s a bit knocked over. I thought I’d give him a moment or so to recover. Will you question him, sir, or shall I?”

  “I’ll see him,” Dawson said grimly. “There’s going to be a hell of a row about this, Garson. We had the place surrounded and we knew what Gleb was up to and we calmly let him shoot her. She’s a well-known figure, too. Just wait until the papers know what’s happened. They’re already asking how it is we were on the spot before the robbery. What’s happened to the girl, Holland?”

  “She’s still up there. The M.O.”s having a look at her.” Dawson walked over to the lift. Garson followed him. Theo’s dead,” Dawson said. “Broke his back. The little horror had it coming to him. Jackson’s looking after the remains.”

  They rode up in the lift.

  “How did Wesley take it?” Dawson asked abruptly.

  “Seemed knocked right out. He came in quietly. I didn’t notice him at first. There was a lot going on. The body hadn’t been moved and he practically stepped on it. Then he bent down and touched her just as I reached him. It gave him a pretty horrible jolt. I took him along to his study and left him I thought I’d let him get over it.”

  “Well, I don’t think there was much love lost between those two,” Dawson said. “He was planning to make Holland his mistress. From what I’ve heard Blanche Wesley was a bit of a bitch. But all the same it isn’t funny to come home and fall over the dead body of your wife, is it?”

  He stepped from the lift and walked in through the front door of Wesley’s flat.

  Blanche’s body still lay where it had fallen. Police photo-graphers were busy taking photographs and finger-print men were working in the hall.

  Dawson didn’t stop, but went immediately to Wesley’s study.

  Wesley was sitting in an arm-chair, his hands folded in his lap, his face white and set. He turned his head as Dawson came in. The black-lensed glasses emphasized his pallor.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Dawson. Bad business, sir. I can’t say how sorry I am.” Wesley nodded.

  “Yes.” His voice sounded flat. “Couldn’t your men have stopped her coming in?”

  “They had no instructions to stop anyone entering the building, only to prevent anyone leaving,” Dawson reminded him. “None of my men saw Mrs. Wesley come in. If they had and had known who she was they would have stopped her. We had no idea she was in the fiat. Why did she return?”

  Wesley made a little gesture. It revealed a controlled despair.

  “We quarrelled,” he said. “To tell the truth, Inspector, we didn’t get on well together. In many ways my wife was very difficult to live with. She had no patience with my blindness, and I suppose I’m not particularly easy myself.” He hesitated, went on. “She drank a bit, and when she was like that she had a pretty violent temper. She had been drinking rather heavily before we started for the theatre. In the cab we got into one of those interminable arguments that always seem to be cropping up between us. It developed into a heated quarrel, and as I was paying off the driver she left me. I had no idea she had gone until I had got into the theatre. It is very difficult, as you can imagine, for a blind man to be left suddenly high and dry in the middle of a crush of people, all moving to their seats. I left her ticket with the programme seller, thinking she might have gone to the bar or the ladies’ room. But after the curtain had gone up, and she hadn’t come to claim her seat, I guessed she didn’t intend to see the show. I decided to go to my club. Then it occurred to me that she might have returned here and I became alarmed. I had some difficulty in getting a taxi. At last someone took pity on me and stopped one for me. When I arrived here I learned she—she——” He broke off and turned away.

  “But how did she get in? No one saw her. Can you explain that?”

  “I think so. I suppose she told the taxi driver to drop her at the garage entrance. The garage of this building is below ground and has a separate entrance. You can take the lift from the garage to our flat without entering the hall. She often does that.”

  “But no taxis were allowed through after Gleb was in the flat.”

  “Perhaps she walked. I don’t know. I’m just making suggestions.”

  Dawson stared at him.

  “Oh, yes, I understand that. I didn’t know about the garage. I’d better find out if anyone saw her in there. Well, we’ve got the man who did it. He won’t get away with it.”

  Wesley seemed to turn a shade paler.

  “If there’s nothing more, Inspector, perhaps you wouldn’t mind leaving me? This has been a bit of a shock.”

  “Of course,” Dawson returned, suddenly feeling sorry for him. “We’ll try not to bother you. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “If you see Gerridge—he’s my secretary—tell him to come to me,” Wesley said. “He should be in in a little while.”

  “I’ll do that,” Dawson said, turned to the door.

  “Oh, Inspector, is Miss Holland all right?” Wesley asked guardedly.

  “Yes . . . a bit shocked, but she’s all right. I’m going to see her now.”

  “Did she see anything?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  Dawson went quietly from the room, closed the door. He stood for a moment or so thinking, then went into the lounge where Garson was waiting.

  “Go down to the garage and find out if anyone saw Mrs. Wesley come in that way,” he said. “The garage is in the basement and was the one place we didn’t guard. Wesley says he thinks that was how she got in.”

  “Yes, sir,” Garson said, made to move off but Dawson stopped him.

  “Where’s the Holland girl?”

  “In her room; end of the passage, sir.”

  Dawson nodded and went with a heavy tread down the passage. He rapped on the door, pushed it open and went in.

  Julie was lying on the bed. Her tear-stained face blanched when she saw who it was.

  “Where were you when
the shooting took place?” Dawson demanded. He had no intention of wasting any time with Julie.

  “In Mrs. Wesley’s room.”

  “What happened?”

  “I—I don’t know. I—I didn’t see any of it.”

  Dawson surveyed her; his mouth tightening.

  “Now look here, young woman, you’ve been on the fringe of trouble for some time. Now you’re mixed up in a murder case. You and Gleb were the only two in the flat. You’d better be a bit more helpful or you’ll be getting into trouble.”

  “But I don’t know,” Julie cried, struggling up on the bed. “I didn’t see anything.”

  “You heard something, didn’t you?”

  “I heard Mrs. Wesley scream. Then there was a shot. I ran out. Harry was bending over Mrs. Wesley. He’d just come from the kitchen.”

  “That’s all you saw? You didn’t see him shoot her?”

  “But he didn’t shoot her. He was in the kitchen!” Julie cried, wringing her hands. “He didn’t do it. He hadn’t a gun. Harry wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

  “It’s no use trying to get him out of his trouble. I know you’ve been in love with him, but it won’t do,” Dawson said harshly. “If he didn’t do it, who did? Did you do it? Only you and Gleb were in the flat.”

  “Oh, no!” Julie exclaimed, terrified at once. “I—I didn’t do it.”

  Dawson smiled grimly.

  “I didn’t think you did,” he said. “But I wanted to show you lying might make things difficult for you.”

  “But—but I’m sure Harry didn’t do it,” Julie said, clenching her fists. “The front door was open. Someone could have shot her through the front door.”

  The invisible man? I had a man at either end of the passage. No one could have come up or down the stairs without being seen. As soon as the shot was fired both my men came into the passage. There was no one in sight.”

  Julie stared at him, going cold.

  “Did Gleb have the gun in his hand?” Dawson asked.

  “No. It was lying on the floor by Mrs. Wesley; just by the door.”

  “All right. Well, this let’s you out. Theo’s dead. Gleb’s nabbed and we’re roping the Frenches in now. You’d better watch your step from now on.” He turned to the door, looked over his shoulder. “You’ll be a witness, remember,” he reminded her. “This trial is going to cause a lot of noise. Be careful what you do between now and the trial, won’t you?” He ran into Garson as he left Julie’s room.

  “No one in the garage, sir,” Garson reported. “The staff leave at seven.”

  “You’d better try and trace the taxi that brought her here,” Dawson said, frowning. “There’s something very odd about the way she sneaked back here. I’ve got a feeling it’ll pay us to put some work in on this angle.”

  Garson looked a little startled.

  “But Gleb shot her, didn’t he? There’s no doubt about that, is there?”

  “There’s always a doubt until the trial’s over,” Dawson said acidly. “I’m not going to have my case shot from under me for the lack of a little hard work. I’ve wanted to lay my hands on Gleb for a long time. Now I’ve got him, I don’t intend to let him slip through my fingers. Find out what Mrs. Wesley did from the time she left Wesley to the time she was shot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Neither of them noticed that the door of Wesley’s study had opened an inch or so. When Garson hurried away, the door silently closed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN the police finally left there came over the flat a strange quiet. Julie had hoped that Dawson would have come in and seen her again. She longed for an assurance that Harry would be all right; that they didn’t really believe he had killed Blanche, but Dawson didn’t come. She heard his deep voice as he stood in the passage outside her door giving instructions to his men, and she had waited, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, hoping he would remember her. But it seemed either she had gone completely from his mind or else he didn’t consider her to be of any further use to him, for she heard him say good night to Wesley and go off, his heavy tread resounding through the flat.

  Then later she heard Gerridge leave. Even he had apparently forgotten her, and when the final policeman had gone she went quickly to the door and peered into the passage. She looked fearfully for bloodstains but someone had scrubbed the carpet clean. There was still a big damp patch on it, and on the white part of the pattern she could make out a faint brown stain.

  Silence hung in the passage like the silence in an empty church. The two passage lights, shaded by green parchment shades, threw an eerie light on the pattern of the carpet.

  She was frightened of the passage, feeling that Blanche was still in the flat, that she might suddenly materialize before her, and with a little shudder she closed the door and leaned against it.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of spending another hour in the flat. Her one thought now was to get away from it as quickly as she could. She had the key to the flat in Vigo Street and she decided to go there. There was no point in staying in this ghastly atmosphere a moment longer, and she immediately set about packing a bag.

  Later, she was staring at the contents of the bag, wondering if she had forgotten anything. when a slight sound in the passage made her stiffen and she felt a cold tingle run up her spine.

  Blanche?

  She told herself not to be ridiculous. Blanche was dead. Then Wesley? Was he coming to her?

  She waited and listened, and the sound, no louder than the scratching of mice at the wainscoting, was repeated. She crept to the door and opened it by degrees until it was just wide enough for her to peer into the passage.

  Wesley was standing by the front door, looking down at the damp patch of carpet. He stood there for several minutes, his pale face expressionless, and then suddenly he passed his foot gently over the patch of damp. He did this several times, and said softly: “She wasn’t fit to go on living.”

  Julie felt suddenly tired and ill, and walked unsteadily to her bed and sat down. She put her head between her hands and closed her eyes. She remained like that for some time, waiting for the feeling of faintness to pass.

  She did not hear Wesley come into the room, and when he spoke she started, her body recoiling in a convulsive little leap that seemed to startle him almost as much as he had startled her.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said gently. “I should have knocked. I wasn’t thinking.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “It’s very quiet now, isn’t it?” he went on, moving softly about the room, not looking at her. “I didn’t come to see you before, because of the police. They told me you were all right. It must have been a horrible shock for you.”

  Still she could think of nothing to say.

  “Dawson was odd. Didn’t you think so?” He paused for a moment to look at her, but almost immediately began again his soft pacing to-and-fro. “He seemed suspicious. Why does it matter how Blanche got into the flat? Why does he try to make a mystery of it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There’s no doubt Gleb shot her. I don’t understand what Dawson is trying to establish.”

  “He didn’t do it!” Julie exclaimed, starting up. “I know he didn’t!”

  Wesley turned quickly. Into his eyes came an alert watchfulness that Julie was too strung-up to notice.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Harry didn’t do it. I know he didn’t.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “Oh, I know he was bad, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t carry a gun. Mrs. French once asked him if he had a gun. He said he never carried one and never would. He was speaking the truth then, and he was speaking the truth to-night when he said he didn’t shoot her.”

  “Have you told the police this?” There was the faintest tremor in Wesley’s voice.

  “Dawson doesn’t believe me. He said only Harry and I were in the flat. If he didn’t shoot her, then I m
ust have.”

  “The fool!” Wesley was suddenly angry. “He didn’t mean it?”

  “No, he was trying to frighten me. But he didn’t. I told him the front door was open ——”

  “What ! What do you mean?”

  “The front door was open. When Mrs. Wesley came in she forgot to close it.”

  Wesley suddenly caught hold of Julie’s wrist, pulled her to him and stared at her fixedly. “What’s the door to do with it? What are you hinting at?”

  There was something in the glittering eyes that chilled her. “Answer me!”

  “I only suggested someone in the passage could have shot her,” Julie said, trying to free her wrist. “Please let go. You’re hurting me.”

  He continued to stare at her for a long moment, then re-leased her and turned away.

  “I’m sorry. And what did Dawson say to that?”

  “He said something about the invisible man,” Julie sat down. Her legs felt shaky. “He said the police were watching the passage and no one could have come up or down.”

  “The invisible man! Fancy Dawson saying that.” There was a feverish look in Wesley’s eyes, but he was smiling, suddenly at ease. “And you meant to be helpful, Julie. But you do see no one could have shot her through the doorway? If the police were there—well, is it likely that anyone could have done that?”

  “No,” she said, wondering at the change in him “I suppose not, but I’m sure Harry didn’t do it.”

  “I find your faith in Gleb a little touching. After all, he’s a thief. He had no mercy on you. You have no proof at all that he didn’t shoot Blanche. You don’t love him anymore, do you?”

  “No, I don’t love him, but that doesn’t make any difference. I just feel in my bones he didn’t do it.”

  “It isn’t a very convincing argument. I doubt if a jury would be impressed. Well, we’ll see.”

  Will they hang him?” Julie asked, wide-eyed.

  “I don’t know. It’s better not to think about it. They haven’t tried him yet.” Wesley fumbled in his pocket for his cigarette-case, lit up, and again began to move about the room. “I don’t think I could stand a night here, could you, Julie?”