Extra Kill llm-3

by Dell Shannon

  "Well," said Alison, and returned to dissatisfied inspection of the canvas.

  ***

  What Pennsylvania-specifically, the Chief of Police of Philadelphia-said was that the prints of the corpse identified him in their records as one Robert Trask, particulars as follows-etcetera. Nothing of Trask's antecedents were known beyond the fact that he had come from some place in New England, to the detriment of Philadelphia, some twelve years back. He had been mixed up in various unsavory businesses, but had been charged and convicted only once, seven years ago-contributing to delinquency of minors, a year's sentence. After he got out, he had been on the scene for a couple of years, and twice private citizens had lodged complaints of attempted extortion on him, but he had managed to wriggle out of the legal net. He had then disappeared, and Philadelphia was interested to learn what had subsequently happened to him.

  As for the description appended of a middle-aged couple calling themselves Kingman, it was of course impossible to say definitely without fingerprints to check, but it was likely that they were the same pair known to Philadelphia as Martin and Caroline Sellers. The Sellers had been charged with fraud on a private complaint in the same year that Robert Trask had been put inside, but had got off on some technicality with the aid of a smart lawyer; the case had attracted some local publicity., They had held private seances with all the trappings, Mrs. Sellers being the medium, and been detected in fraud by a local officer of the Society for Psychical Research. Investigation of their background at the time (by the Society, not the police) had turned up the fact that they had at one time been in show business with a mind-reading act, billed as The Telepathic Turners. Turner appeared to be the legal name. Two years previously they had been charged and convicted of fraud-on the same count as the Philadelphia arrest, fake seances-in Chicago, were fined, and had served a year apiece inside. If Los Angeles could oblige with prints of these Kingmans, Philadelphia could say definitely whether they were the Sellers-Turners; but as the latter had disappeared from the scene so far as the police knew about five years back, it was a matter of small doubt.

  "We'll send prints," said Mendoza to Hackett happily, "but it does look like a foregone conclusion. So there's our motive-and I wonder, considering that they were tried the same year Twelvetrees-Trask was, I wonder if that's where he met them. Or saw and remembered them. In a courtroom corridor, somewhere like that. And it's also nice to know that he'd apparently settled on gentlemanly blackmail as an easier racket than what he'd been in-you see how the pattern worked out with Whalen."

  "Yes, he couldn't leave it alone." They had just joined forces outside the Temple. "You're going to spring it on them straight?"

  "Might just give them enough of a jolt to come out with something damaging, yes."

  Boyce asked if there was likely to be a roughhouse about the arrest.

  "Nada, they're con artists, grifters-never any trouble with that kind."

  The entrance to the place was dark, only the discreet sign lighted, and the door locked; but there was a bell push. They waited, and presently a light went on and beyond the glass-paneled double doors Kingman could be seen approaching unhurriedly, neat and respectable in his navy suit and immaculate white shirt, the light shining on his rimless glasses. He looked like a verger about to welcome the congregation. He swung back the right-hand door, and there they were, close, crowding in; he took a couple of steps back, but his genial expression didn't alter.

  "Why, Lieutenant Mendoza-good evening, sir-"

  "Good evening, Mr. Turner," said Mendoza, grinning amiably at him. "Let's go upstairs and include Mrs. Turner in this little gettogether, shall we? And no fair communicating telepathically on the way! My friends and I think it's about time for you to start telling us the truth-about various things, but mainly about your dealings with the late Mr. Robert Trask, and just how you came to murder the poor fellow."

  Kingman took another step back. His round ruddy face lost some of its color. He said dispiritedly, "Oh, hell. Hell and damnation?

  THIRTEEN

  "Oh, dear," said Cara Kingman. "Well, I suppose you'd better come in. I was afraid they would find out, Martin, you know I said at the time, let it go and be thankful it was only the twenty-three hundred. You see what's come of it, not that I'd dream of reproaching you, dear, you only did what you thought best." She looked at Mendoza resignedly.

  Kingman put an arm around her. "Now don't you be frightened, Cara, but it's a bit more than that, they think we did it, you see. I-"

  "Murdered him? Oh, Martin! Well-well, we'd just better tell them the truth-”

  "I'd advise it," said Mendoza, sitting down. "And not the kind of truth you've seen in a crystal ball, Mrs. Turner. Of course there's quite a lot you don't have to tell us. I know that Trask was blackmailing you, and what he had-that last business in Philadelphia. Your present little flock wouldn't like hearing about that, and how well you knew it. A spotless reputation is the chief thing in your business, and it annoyed you considerably when Trask showed up. You had to play ball with him, but that five hundred a month was quite a bite out of your take-"

  Kingman said gloomily, "You couldn't speak a truer word."

  "It was wicked," said his wife. "After all the bad luck we'd had, it's not a very steady living after all-those awful night clubs and so on-horrible places most of them, but I shouldn't be uncharitable, perhaps all this liquor does serve some purpose of destiny. But when everything was going so well, and we'd quite settled down- We're neither of us getting any younger, you know, Lieutenant, and we must try to save toward our old age, and besides it's been so nice here, so peaceful, we'd quite felt we were settled for good until that wicked young man came. He was, truly. Going to all the trouble of sending back East for that copy of the Telegraph-the one where the trial was reported, you know, and our pictures in it too, quite good ones, I'm sorry to say-and he had it, what do I mean, Martin, photo-?"

  "Photostated," sighed Kingman. They sat side by side on the couch, holding hands, looking at the police solemnly; a little of Kingman's precise manner dropped away, but not much-he'd played his part for so many years, he'd grown into it. "Oh, it was awkward, I can't deny it. In a way, the most annoying thing about it was that, well, it wasn't as if we'd been convicted of any wrongdoing-”

  "However, you had been before-in Chicago," said Mendoza, and mentioned the year.

  "That terrible jail," said Madame Cara, and closed her eyes.

  "Now wait just a minute here," said Kingman fussily, adjusting his glasses. "Wait a minute. (Don't fret, my dear.) I do not think of myself as a-a confidence man, Lieutenant, nor do I hold any sort of grudge against the police for doing their duty. That unfortunate affair in Chicago was due to a misunderstanding on my part regarding Illinois law. We have always made an earnest effort to see that we conform to the law-it's only common sense, after all. When you come down to it, Lieutenant, we are only selling a service the public wants and is eager to buy. And I confess I do not see the difference between presenting an-ah-act to amuse an audience, and doing essentially the same thing without the footlights."

  "I always hated all the traveling about," said his wife. She looked about the room sadly. "This is such a nice place, and I did think we were settled down at last. But-but it doesn't really matter, Martin dear, we'll get along as well somewhere else, I daresay, the main thing is to explain to them that of course we didn't kill him. Why, I'm sure such an idea never entered our heads, even when he was being horridest. Really, Lieutenant Mendoza, we're not that kind of people."

  "Boyce, close your mouth," said Mendoza sotto voce, "and try to look more dignified. Now to go on a step further-we'1l hear your side of it in a moment-the annoying Mr. Trask had recently increased his demands, hadn't he? He was asking too much, and it decided you not to be bullied any longer. You had had a few words with him that Friday afternoon, and far from not being sure what mood he was in, you knew he was feeling ugly. A little side racket he'd been planning had fallen through-" He paused, os
tensibly to light a cigarette, watching Kingman: did he know what the side racket had been?-but the other man only nodded glumly. "You had a show to put on here at eight, you couldn't chase after him then, but as soon as you could get away, you drove out to his apartment. You got there about a quarter past ten-"

  "I remember noticing," said the woman, "it was exactly a quarter past by my watch as we drove into that-that court. Oh, please don't hesitate to use that ashtray, Lieutenant, that's what it's for. Really, for the time of night and the traffic-so nerve-wracking-we made excellent time. You see, Martin, how very clever they are to find all this out."

  "My dear, you needn't say I told you so.”

  "But I never would. I do believe in destiny, so it's no use. Do you know, Lieutenant, we'll have been married thirty-one years on the twentieth of this month, and never any serious disagreement between us. I put it down chiefly to the fact that we do always remember to be polite to each other, although it is true that Martin is a very even-tempered man."

  Mendoza grasped grimly at the tail of his last remark. "There was a quarrel, and you hit Trask-with the butt of a pistol which-"

  "Now wait just a minute, please, sir," said Kingman. He leaned forward with a kind of desperate earnestness. "I don't know exactly how we're going to prove it to you, because naturally there were no witnesses present. And I must say I do understand how you came to pick on us, though how you found out we were there that night I don't know. But I do assure you that you have-um-leaped to a wrong conclusion when you accuse me of killing that-that most unpleasant young man. I hope to God I can convince you, sir, that we hadn't any hand in the murder. Never had such a shock in my life as when you turned up and told us-" He whisked out a handkerchief and polished his bald head.

  “Now suppose I just tell you the whole business straight, so to speak, and if I miss out anything you want to know, you ask, because I don't know all the ins and outs of the-um-circumstances of the murder. You've got it right up to that night, sir. Trask… Perhaps I had better explain that that time in Philadelphia he was being held for trial, on a very nasty low charge too, at the same time I was, and that's how he knew me, and knew to send back for that newspaper report. And it wasn't only the money that made the situation awkward and annoying-it was having him around. Any day we'd both have preferred to pay over the money as straight extortion, and never seen him between, but you see, he wanted an open job, as an excuse for not working. I didn't like it, I never liked it, but what could I do? And besides keeping an eye on him, you know, I had what you might call a handle, too. You'll never know how both of us hoped he would make the grade and get into the profession-though he'd nothing to offer but looks, as an old trouper myself I knew that, but still, Hollywood.. . If he only had, perhaps he'd have gone to looking on us as very small stuff, you see, and left us alone-"

  "And also you could then turn the tables and threaten him with his past," said Mendoza. “If he acquired a public reputation to be put in danger."

  "Good God, no," said Kingman, genuinely shocked. "God forbid that we should stoop so low as that. I tell you, we'd have gone on our knees to give thanks if he'd just left us alone! Well, you're not interested in all this background, I'd better-ah-cut the cackle as our English friends say, and come to that Friday. You said a minute ago that he'd had some plan go wrong, well, I couldn't tell you what that was, but I did deduce that for myself, from his manner. Now it's quite true, what I told you, that we exchanged only a few words as I met him leaving. But-um-what actually passed was not exactly casual. He-"

  "Demanded that you raise the ante."

  "Well, no," said Kingman. "Actually, no. He was simply in a vicious temper. He put on a good front, you know-that charming boyish manner-but only with people who mattered, people he thought could do him some good. He never troubled with us. But that day he-er-lashed out at me, at the Temple-sneeringly, you know-more viciously than he'd ever done before. However, it wasn't until just before the-the ceremony that night that I became seriously disturbed. I must explain that I-oh dear, and possibly I should have mentioned it to you when you searched this afternoon, I do apologize-I have a small wall safe built into the robing room downstairs, where the-um-receipts are kept. Now, Trask did not have the combination of this safe, and I can only assume that he must have visited the apartment when we were out, perhaps several times, and hunted until he found the notation in my address book. I should have carried it on me-I have such a bad memory for figures-it was careless-"

  "Now you mustn't blame yourself, dear, it might have happened to anyone.”

  "I do not very often have occasion to go to the safe, that is to take out cash, over a weekend. Naturally, after the service on Saturday night I put the collection into the safe, but I seldom look at what's there or count it. But as it happened, I did have occasion to do so on that Friday night-Cara was going shopping the next morning, and I went to get out some money for her, just before the service. There is no collection for that Friday night service, you see. And I knew there should have been twenty-three hundred dollars in one of the velvet collection bags. You know,"-he took off his glasses, began to polish them slowly with his handkerchief-"on thinking it over since, I can see that he took a gamble on that. In the ordinary way, on Saturday evening I should have simply dropped the collection into that bag and locked it away again-a bag isn't like an envelope, I wouldn't see that it was nearly empty beforehand. He had left some one-dollar bills and a lot of silver, enough to look to the casual glance as if the bag hadn't been touched. You see? If all had gone as he planned, the deficit wouldn't have been discovered, probably, until some time on Monday-when I'd be going to the bank to deposit the month's receipts. But I discovered it then, at seven-thirty that Friday night."

  "Yes, I've grasped that," said Mendoza in a bored tone. "So you went out after the service to ask him how come."

  "Now I'll tell you," said Kingman, "I may be a fool this way and that way, Lieutenant, but I was not fool enough to think that Trask would walk oif with a month's receipts like that if he intended to carry on in the current situation. The moment I made that discovery, I knew he was clearing out for some reason. And I was thankful-I tell you!-and if it had been merely the twenty-three hundred, I'd have said good riddance, cheap at the price."

  "Which was what I said, dear, though I did follow the thought in your mind. He really had no scruples at all."

  "But, well, just put yourself in my position, if you can, Lieutenant. Knowing Trask, I thought it very likely indeed that he would not be satisfied with that amount, but would attempt to withdraw more from the bank on Monday morning-before I had discovered what he'd already done, you see. I don't know why he should have stolen that cash on Friday when-if he did intend to withdraw more-he couldn't very well have planned his-his flight until Monday. When I came to reason it out, it occurred to me that possibly someone was in a position to blackmail him, and he had to have that cash on Friday. That he meant to abandon his-ah-racket here, in the face of that blackmail, and stole the cash to satisfy his enemy over the weekend, trusting to luck that I shouldn't discover it-and then on the Monday meant to take what he could from the bank, you see. However, there it was, and the reason I was anxious to contact him was to inform him in no uncertain terms that I knew of the theft, and would take steps immediately to warn the bank not to allow him to make any withdrawals. That I didn't want-well, naturally not-but it wasn't only the money-I couldn't very well prosecute him for it, could I? Everything coming out in the open then. I tried at once to telephone him, but got no answer-of course it was early. I tried again after the service, with the same result. “ So-"

  "So you drove out. Very well. And when you got there, you found him packing-"

  "It was quite mysterious," said the woman plaintively, "and I hated it-I felt there was something queer about it then. There was no one there at all, Lieutenant. I do hope," her voice quivered a little, "you will believe the truth, I do see as Martin says it's only our word. But it is the truth. The front
door to his apartment was unlocked, after we'd knocked and knocked Martin tried it and the door opened. We knew he was there because there was a light-not in the living room, but the bedroom-you could see it from that silly little front porch. So we went in, and no one was there at all. Yes, you're quite right, he had been packing-there were two suitcases all packed and locked, and another on the bed half full of things-and things standing on the bureau, all i untidy, he'd never have left it like that; he was almost too finicky for a man, you know. And the light on. The kitchen light too. We couldn't see that until we'd gone in, of course. And no one there."

  "That's gospel truth, gentlemen," said Kingman earnestly. "I can't lie to you that I'm a religious man, but I swear by-by everything that's dear to me, that's the gospel truth."

  Mendoza had been leaning back in a bored way, smoking, impassive; Boyce sitting stolid and foursquare, just waiting; Hackett listening and looking intently. Their noncornmittal silence worried Kingman, who had grown progressively more ruddy and earnest. Now suddenly Mendoza sat up and fixed him with a frowning stare.

  "The kitchen light was on?" he said. "Was that trap open?"

  "God, no," said Kingman with a shudder. "And if I didn't have the cold grues about that, when I read in the paper how he'd been-disposed of! It occurred to me then that, my God, whoever it was might have-must have-been down there with him-when we walked in."

  Now he lost all of his ruddiness, and mopped his bald head. "He-they-whoever it was, would have had warning-we knocked and waited, you know. If-if there was a way to close that trap from below… well, you take me. Must have been down there in the dark-with him-waiting for us to leave. God. No, of course we didn't dream, at the time… There were all his things, you could see he was getting ready to clear out, and-I don't know-it looked queer, but as if he might have just run out to get something, you know-some errand. I-"