"Have you got a gun, Brian?" he asked.
I shook my head and then realized he couldn't see me. "No," I said. "What would I be doing with a gun?"
My voice, even to me, sounded hoarse and strained. I heard Jack moving.
"The question is," he said, "what's the guy outside doing with one? Anybody after you, pal?"
"N-no," I said. "At least, not--"
I heard a click that told me Jack had found the telephone. He gave a number and added, "Urgent, sister. This is the police." Then his voice changed tone and he said, "Brian, what's the score? Don't you know anything about who or why--"
He got his connection before he could finish the question and his voice changed pitch again.
"Jack Sebastian, Cap," he said. "Forty-five University Lane. Forty-five University Lane. Somebody just took a pot-shot in the window here. Head the squad cars this way from all directions they can come from. Especially the campus--that's the logical way for him to lose himself if he's on foot. Start 'em. I'll hold the line."
Then he was asking me again, "Brian, what can I add? Quick."
"Tell 'em to watch for a tall, slender, young man," I said. "Twenty-one years old, thin face, blond hair."
"The hell," he said. "Alister Cole?"
"Could be," I told him. "It's the only guess I can make. I can be wrong, but--"
"Hold it." Whoever he'd been talking to at the police station was back on the line. Without mentioning the name, Jack gave the description I'd just given to him. He said, "Put that on the radio and come back in."
Again to me, "Anything else?"
"Yes," I said. "Tell 'em to converge those squad cars on Doc Roth's place, Two-ten University Lane. Forget sending them here. Get them there. Quick!"
"Why? You think if it's Alister Cole, he's going for Doc Roth, too?"
"Don't argue. Tell 'em. Hurry!"
I was on my feet by now, trying to grope my way across the pitch black room to the telephone to join him. I stepped on a chessman and it rolled and nearly threw me. I swore and got my lighter out of my pocket and flicked the wheel.
The tiny flame lighted part of the room dimly. The faint wavering light threw long dancing shadows. On the mantel, the Siamese was standing, her back arched and her tail thick. Her blue eyes caught and held the light like blue jewels.
"Put that out, you fool," Jack snapped.
"He isn't standing there at the window," I said impatiently. "He wouldn't stay there after we doused the light. Tell them what I said about Roth's, quick."
"Hello, Cap. Listen, get some of the cars to Two-ten University Lane instead. Two-one-oh. Fast. No, I don't know what this is about either. Just do it. We can find out later. The guy who took a shot here might go there. That's all I know. So long."
He put the receiver back on the hook to end argument. I was there by that time, and had the receiver in my hand.
"Sorry, Jack," I said, and shoved him out of the way. I gave Dr. Roth's number and added, "Keep ringing till they answer."
I held the receiver tight against my ear and waited. I realized I was still holding up the tiny torch of the cigarette lighter and I snapped it shut. The room snapped again into utter darkness.
"You stay in here," Jack said. "I'm going out."
"Don't be a fool. He's got a gun."
There was a sharp knock on the door, and we neither of us moved until the knock came again, louder. Then we heard Professor Winton's high, nervous voice.
"Brian, was that a shot a minute ago? Are you all right?"
Jack muttered something under his breath and groped for the door handle. In the receiver against my ear I could hear Dr. Roth's phone still ringing. He hadn't answered yet. I put my hand over the mouthpiece.
"I'm all right, Dr. Winton," I called out.
By that time, Jack had found the knob and opened the door. Light streamed into the room from the hallway outside, and he stepped through the door quickly and closed it behind him.
"Someone shot through the window, Doctor," I heard him say, "but everything's under control. We've called the police. Better get back inside your room, though, till they get here."
Dr. Winton's voice said something, excitedly, but I didn't hear what, because Jeanette Roth's voice, husky and beautiful, but definitely sleepy, was saying "Hello," in my ear. I forgot Jack and Winton and concentrated my attention on the phone.
I talked fast. "This is Brian Carter, Jeanette," I said. "Listen, this is important. It's maybe life and death. Just do what I say and don't argue. First, be sure all the lights in your house are out, all doors and windows locked tight--bolted, if they've got bolts. Then don't answer the door, unless you're sure it's the police--or me. I'm coming over, too, but the police may get there first."
"Brian, what on earth--?”
"Don't argue, darling," I said. "Do those things, fast. Lights out. Everything locked. And don't answer the door unless it's me or the police!"
I hung up on her. I knew she'd do it faster that way than if I stayed on the line.
I groped my way through the dark room and out into the lighted hallway. The door to Dr. Winton's room, just across from my apartment, was closed, and there was nobody in the hallway. I ran to the front door and out onto the porch.
Out front on the sidewalk, Jack Sebastian was turning around, looking. He had something in his hand. When he turned so light from the street lamp down on the corner shone on it, I could see that it was a long-barreled pistol. I ran out to join him.
"From Winton. It's a target pistol, a twenty-two. But it's better than throwing stones. Look, you sap, get back in there. You got no business out in the open."
I told him I was going to Roth's place, and started down the sidewalk at a trot.
"What's the score?" he called after me. "What makes you think it was that Cole kid and why the excitement about Roth?"
I saved my breath by not answering him. There'd be plenty of time for all that later. I could hear him running behind me. We pounded up the steps onto the porch of Dr. Roth's place.
"It's Brian Carter--and the police!" I called out while I rang the bell.
Maybe Jack Sebastian wasn't exactly the police, in the collective sense, but he was a detective, the youngest full-fledged detective on the force. Anyway, it wasn't the time for nice distinctions. I quit leaning on the bell and hammered on the door, and then yelled again.
The key turned in the lock and I stepped back. The door opened on the chain and Jeanette's white face appeared in the crack. She wasn't taking any chances. Then, when she saw us, she slid back the chain and opened the door.
"Brian, what--" she began.
"Your father, Jeanette. Is he all right?"
"I--I knocked on his door after you phoned, Brian, and he didn't answer! The door's locked. Brian, what's wrong?"
Chapter II
Murder for a Million!
Out front a car swung into the curb with a squealing of brakes and two big men got out of it. They came running up the walk toward us and Jack stepped to the edge of the porch, where light from a street lamp would fall on his face and identify him to the two men. It also gleamed on the gun dangling from his hand.
Jeanette swayed against me and I put my arm around her shoulders. She was trembling.
"Maybe everything's okay, Jeanette," I said. "Maybe your father's just sleeping soundly. Anyway, these are the police coming now, so you're safe."
I heard Jack talking to the two detectives who'd come in the squad car, and then one of them started around the house, on the outside, using a flashlight. Jack and the other one joined us in the doorway.
"Let's go," Jack said. "Where's your father's room, Miss Roth?"
"Just a second, Jack," I said. I snapped on the hall lights and then went into the library and turned on the lights there and looked around to be sure nobody was there.
"You wait in here, Jeanette," I said then. "We'll go up and try your father's door again, and if he still doesn't answer, we'll have to break--"
Footsteps pounded across the porch again and the other detective, the one who'd started around the house, stood in the doorway.
"There's a ladder up the side of the house to a window on the second floor--northwest corner room," he said. "Nobody around unless he's upstairs, in there. Shall I go up the ladder, Sebastian?"
Jack looked at me, and I knew that he and I were thinking the same thing. The killer had come here first, and there wasn't any hurry now.
"I'll go up the ladder," he said. "We won't have to break the door now. Will you two guys search the house from attic to cellar and turn all the lights on and leave them on? And, Brian, you stay here with Miss Roth. Can I borrow your flashlight, Wheeler?"
I noticed that, by tacit consent, Jack was taking charge of the case and of the older detectives. Because, I presumed, he was the first one on the scene and had a better idea what it was all about.
One of the men handed over a flashlight and Jack went outside. I led Jeanette into the library.
"Brian," she asked, "do you think Dad is--that something has happened to Dad?"
"We'll know for sure in a minute, darling. Why make guesses meanwhile? I don't know."
But--what happened that made you call me up?"
"Jack and I were playing chess at my place," I told her. "Someone took a shot through the window. At me, not at Jack. The bullet went into the wall behind me and just over my head. I-- well, I had a sudden hunch who might have shot at me, and if my hunch was right, I thought he'd consider your father his enemy, too. I'm afraid he may be--mad."
"Alister Cole?"
"Have you noticed anything strange about him?" I asked her.
"Yes. He's always scared me, Brian, the way he's acted. And just last night, Dad remarked that--"
She broke off, standing there rigidly. Footsteps were coming down the stairs. That would be Jack, of course. And the fact that he walked so slowly gave us the news in advance of his coming.
Anyway, when he stood in the doorway, Jeanette asked quietly, "Is he dead?" and Jack nodded.
Jeanette sat down on the sofa behind her and dropped her head into her hands, but she didn't cry.
"I'll phone headquarters," Jack said. "But first--you and he were alone in the house tonight, weren't you, Miss Roth?"
She looked up and her eyes were still dry. "Yes" she said. "Mother's staying overnight with my aunt--her sister--in town. This is going to hit her hard. Will you need me here? I--I think it would be best if I were the one to break it to her. I can dress and be there in half an hour. I can be back in an hour and a half. Will it be all right?"
Jack looked at me. "What do you think, Brian? You know this guy Cole and you know what this is all about. Would Miss Roth be in any danger if she left?"
"You could figure that yourself, Jack," I said. "Cole was here, alone in the house with her after he killed Dr. Roth, and he had all the time in the world because there hadn't been an alarm yet. But let me go with her, though, just to be sure."
He snorted. "Just to be sure--of what? He is after you, my fine friend. Until we get Cole under lock and key--and throw away the key--you're not getting out from under my eye."
"All right," I said, "so I'm indispensable. But everybody isn't, and this place will be full of police in a few minutes. If I'm not mistaken, that sounds like another squad car coming now. Why not have one of the boys in it use it to drive Miss Roth over to her aunt's?"
He nodded. "Okay, Miss Roth. I'll stick my neck out--even though Headquarters may cut it off. And Wheeler and Brach have finished looking around upstairs, so it'll be okay for you to go to your room if you want to change that housecoat for a dress."
He went to the front door to let the new arrivals in.
"I'm awfully sorry, Jeanette," I said then. "I know that sounds meaningless, but-- it's all I can think of to say."
She managed a faint smile. "You're a good egg, Brian. I'll be seeing you."
She held out her hand, and I took it. Then she ran up the stairs. Jack looked in at the doorway.
"I told the new arrivals to search the grounds," he said. "Not that they'll find anything, but it'll give 'em something to do. I got to phone Headquarters. You stay right here."
"Just a second, Jack," I said. "How was he killed?"
"A knife. Messy job. It was a psycho, all right."
"You say messy? Is there any chance Jeanette might go into-- ?"
He shook his head. "Wheeler's watching that door. He wouldn't let her go in. Well, I got to phone--"
"Listen, Jack. Tell me one thing. How long, about, has he been dead? I mean, is there any chance Cole could have come here after he shot at me? I might have thought of phoning here, or getting here a minute or two sooner. I'd feel responsible if my slowness in reacting, my dumbness--"
Jack was shaking his head. "I'm no M.E.," he said, "but Roth had been dead more than a few minutes when I found him. I'd say at least half an hour, maybe an hour."
He went to the phone and gave the Headquarters number. I heard his voice droning on, giving them the details of the murder and the attempted murder.
I sat there listening, with my eyes closed, taking in every word of it, but carefully keeping the elation off my face. It had gone perfectly. Everything had worked out. Whether or not they caught Alister Cole--and they would catch him-- nothing could go wrong now. It had come off perfectly.
I would never be suspected, and I stood to gain a million dollars--and Jeanette. . . .
She came down the stairs slowly, as one approaching a reluctant errand. I waited for her at the foot of the staircase, my eyes on her beautiful face. There was shock there, but--as I had expected and was glad to see--not too much grief. Roth had been a cold, austere man. Not a man to be grieved for deeply, or long. She stopped on the second step, her eyes level with mine and only inches away. I wanted to kiss her, but this was not the time. A little while and I would, I thought.
But I could look now, and I could dream. I could imagine my hand stroking that soft blonde hair. I could imagine those soft, misty blue eyes closed and my lips kissing the lids of them, kissing that soft white throat, her yielding lips. Then--
My hand was on the newel post and she put hers over it. It almost seemed to burn.
"I wish I could go with you, darling," I said. "I wish there was something I could do to help you."
"I wish you could come with me too, Brian. But--your friend's right. And didn't you take an awful chance coming over here anyway--out in the open, with a madman out to kill you?"
"Jack was with me," I said.
Jack was calling to me from the library. "Coming," I said, and then I told Jeanette, "It's cool out, darling. Put a coat on over that thin dress."
She nodded absently. "I wish you could come with me, Brian. Mother likes you--"
I knew what she meant, what she was thinking. That things were going to be all right between us now. Her mother did like me. It was her stuffy, snobbish father who had stood in the way. Jack called again impatiently.
"Take care of yourself, Brian," Jeanette whispered quickly. "Don't take any chances, please."
She pressed my hand, then ran past me toward the coat closet. I saw that one of the detectives was waiting for her at the door. I went into the library. Jack was still sitting at the telephone table, jotting things into a notebook. He looked very intent and businesslike.
"Captain Murdock--he's head of Homicide--is on his way here," Jack said. "He'll be in charge of the case. That's why I wanted you to let the girl get out of here first. He might insist on her staying."
"What about you?" I asked him. "Aren't you staying on the case?"
He grinned a little. "I've got my orders. They're to keep you alive until Cole is caught. The Chief told me if anything happens to you, he'll take my badge away and shove it up my ear. From now on, pal, we're Siamese twins."
"Then how about finishing that chess game?" I said. "I think I can set up the men again."
He shook his head. "Life isn't that simple. Not for a wh
ile yet, anyway. We'll have to stick here until Cap Murdock gets here, and then I'm to take you into the Chiefs office. Yeah, the Chiefs going down there at this time of night."
It was after one when Jack took me into Chief Randall's office. Randall, a big, slow-moving man, yawned and shook hands with me across his desk.
"Sit down, Carter," he said, and yawned again.
I took the seat across from him. Jack Sebastian sat down in a chair at the end of the desk and started doodling with the little gold knife he wears on the end of a chain.
"This Roth is a big man," Chief Randall said. "The papers are going to give us plenty if we don't settle this quick."
"Right now, Chief," Jack said, "Alister Cole is a bigger man. He's a homicidal maniac on the loose."
The Chief frowned. "We'll get him," he said. "We've got to. We've got him on the air. We've got his description to every railroad station and airport and bus depot. We're getting out fliers with his picture--as soon as we get one. The state patrolmen are watching for him. We'll have him in hours. We're doing everything."
"That's good," I told him. "But I don't think you'll find him on his way out of town. I think he'll stay here until he gets me--or until you get him."
"He'll know that you're under protection, Brian," Jack said. "Mightn't that make a difference? Wouldn't he figure the smartest thing to do would be to blow town and hide out for a few months, then come back for another try?"
I thought it over. "He might," I said, doubtfully. "But I don't think so. You see, he isn't thinking normally. He's under paranoiac compulsion, and the risks he takes aren't going to weight the balance too strongly on the safety side. He was out to kill Dr. Roth and then me. Now I'm no expert in abnormal psychology, but I think that if he'd missed on his first killing he might do as you suggested--go away and come back later when things had blown over. But he made his first kill. He stepped over the line. He's going to be under terrifically strong compulsion to finish the job right away--at any risk!"
The Collection Page 70
