Murder at Bayside

by Raymond Robins

  I drove on and parked my car in a small alley-way back of the Crystal Palace. Then I walked around in front to buy my ticket. In the act of picking up my change I glanced through the window with a start of feigned surprise, “Why, it is Miss Catherine Small, isn’t it?”

  The girl nodded a grudging assent.

  “Mr. John Patrick Vaile mentioned your name to me. I am his junior partner, working with him, you know. I wonder—I’d like very much to have you tell me what you told him, just so I’d hear it firsthand. Perhaps I could meet you some place when you are through work and we could talk.”

  She looked me over for the barest fraction of a second, and then, seeming to find reassurance in my appearance, said, “I go down the street for my supper at five-thirty. You could meet me there, Miner’s Cafe, it is.”

  “All right,” I replied. “Five-thirty will give me just about time to see the main picture.”

  I walked in and found a seat with difficulty in the darkness. Now I wasn’t particularly interested in the feature and to this day I have never been able to recall what was on the screen. My first business, once my eyes had accustomed themselves to the place, was to find some unobtrusive means of exit, for I was mindful of my chief’s hint that Edwin actually entered the Crystal Palace. After a while, I discerned a curtained alcove which must hide a door, if one there was at all. Getting up, I strolled down the far aisle; no one seemed to observe my action. I entered the alcove, found a door, and walked out into the blinding sunlight. I was not more than a few feet from my own car. This, then, must be exactly what Edwin had done on the afternoon of the tenth.

  Satisfied that I had accomplished my mission, I attempted to return the way I had come. I had not gone more than a few feet up the aisle when the usher came hurrying toward me and seized me by the arm.

  “None of that now,” he hissed in my ear. “Go around and pay your way in like the rest of them.”

  Much amused, I retorted, “I’ve given you my ticket once. It was so close in the theater, I wanted a breath of fresh air and came out here to get it.”

  The man was somewhat mollified but still suspicious. “It is too dark in here for me to recognize you,” he said.

  “Didn’t you see me go out?” I asked for a purpose of my own.

  “Naw. I don’t watch ‘em go down the aisle. I’m supposed to keep anybody from sneaking in.”

  By this time we had reached the back of the theater, and I signified my intention of leaving. I felt I had learned enough to forego whatever delights the Crystal Palace had to offer, and besides I could think of no other way to satisfy the usher.

  The several hours intervening before the scheduled meeting gave me time to review my progress to date. It seemed to me I was getting along beautifully. No longer did I have my doubts of Edwin’s attempt to conceal something from us. He had deliberately misled us in regard to his relations with the brokerage concern, relying on the business man’s natural inclination to protect his client. Then there was the mystery of the money—whence had it come and what had he meant by saying he expected to get his hands on a modest fortune? Also, I noted with satisfaction the possibilities of Edwin’s remark to the colored boy. This was the sort of clue my chief loved. He would turn it over and over in his mind, until he had extracted a pregnant meaning from it. I did not realize, then, that I had another excellent lead for John Patrick—one worth more than all the rest put together, one which was to furnish us with the key to Edwin’s movements. However, I had duly recorded in my notebook, “Lad says he found silver vanity case in the car and gave it to Edwin. E. tipped him a half dollar.”

  Then, since it was going on towards five-thirty, I drove to Miner’s Cafe, finding it a neat and clean eating place. I was a trifle early for my engagement, but Miss Catherine made her appearance with surprising promptness. She was a shortish girl, rather plump, with a nice open face and an air of country breeding only thinly overlaid with a slight sophistication. As soon as she was seated, I inquired as to her preferences and ordered a supper with diligent deference to her somewhat astonishing tastes. By this time, she was rather excited and obviously pleased at the prospect of our proposed discussion. It was not difficult to account to her for my interest in Edwin; she took it for granted that every one got the same thrill she did out of contact with a person so recently celebrated in the newspapers. I knew she had talked over the mystery with her friends and honestly regretted her absence from the post of duty on the fateful afternoon, as much for the lost opportunity of testifying at the inquest as out of any regard for Edwin. I gathered from her that the troopers had taken her sister over to the Coroner’s court without attaching much importance to the ultimate identification.

  “You see,” she told me, “Mr. Lester, who was in town that afternoon—he is one of the troopers, you know—saw Mr. Evans’ car out in back of the movie and knew he was there all right.”

  “Well, why on earth didn’t he say so?” I asked in astonishment. If Edwin’s car was in back of the theater all afternoon, Edwin was probably inside after all, and our whole theory was knocked into a cocked hat.

  “Oh,” the girl blushed, “I wouldn’t tell anybody but you this, Mr. Williams, but you seem so understanding, truly you do. It was this way; Mr. Lester was supposed to be patrolling the road between here and Havre de Grace, but well—it was raining and they didn’t really need any one on the road then—honest, it is awful the way the people expect cops to keep riding up and down these little country roads, when goodness knows they’d never need them if they’d just drive along and mind their own business. Where was I? Oh, my sister came down so I could get off; it isn’t often that Mr. Lester and I can get off at the same time, with me working nights and all, so we went across the street to the garage and stayed there until after five o’clock. The car was still there when we left, but I didn’t think Mr. Lester ought to say so for fear he’d get into trouble. I was sure my sister would remember Mr. Evans when she saw him. I told her all about him and it did seem to me she could recall him to mind when I asked her to. Wasn’t it nice, it didn’t make any difference after all?”

  “Did you see Mr. Evans drive up?” I inquired weakly. This news was too much for me to assimilate all at once.

  “No, I left the theater at three o’clock.”

  Well, it didn’t make any difference; if the car was outside at five o’clock, Edwin couldn’t be fifteen miles away committing a murder. But—“why not?” I asked myself. He might have taken another car. I knew that the gun he had turned over to the police for inspection had not fired the shot. If another gun, why not another car?

  THIRTEEN

  Although it was late when I returned to Bayside, I lost no time in presenting my notes to John Patrick. When we had been over the whole ground, he nodded a gratified approval.

  “You did very much better than I expected, Bob, but I must warn you again that you have been entirely too reckless. That business in the restaurant was bad—and I don’t begin to understand it. Perhaps it wasn’t your fault, but you could have been more careful at the garage. Both the doorman and the boy saw your car, and that little import of yours would serve to identify you to any one curious enough to inquire. You are being foolhardy when you leave such a wide-open trail.”

  “You think we may alarm our quarry?” I asked, much pleased with the idea that we might be so close on his track.

  “My concern is not wholly on that account,” John Patrick replied gravely. “We are dealing with a murderer, a man so dangerous that only a fool would trifle with him. Remember, Bob, he is an outlaw, a murderer—and, well, you would be wise to carry a gun.”

  I laughed a trifle uneasily for, while I could not bring myself to share my chief’s apprehension, his words carried conviction.

  “I’ll never carry a gun,” I answered. “I can’t forget how, when the police suspected me, the first thing they did was to look for my gun. What would they think now if I went to them for a permit?”

  “They’d probably com
mend your judgment, if they knew what you have been up to.” I shook my head decisively. “Well,” sighed John Patrick, “if you won’t, you won’t, and that is all there is to it; but I hope you come to your senses before something happens to convince you of the necessity for more discretion.”

  I gave him my promise to be careful, although I secretly thought he was being unduly nervous. At the time I could not see the ghastly pattern actually before us, nor did I understand the devilish ingenuity of the killer.

  John Patrick realized how far I was from the proper comprehension of the whole affair, but he dropped all mention of the subject and returned to the matter at hand, going on with his discussion of the report I had brought him.

  “Now about Edwin’s movements, you have unquestionably uncovered something important there. I rather doubt if he has been getting this extra money from his uncle, but the first thing to do is to make sure on that point. I’ll look through Cyrus’ personal checking account and, if necessary, I can go up to town and try my hand at eliciting information from the bank.”

  “What do you think of the curious time factor in Edwin’s trading? He entered the market between the fifteenth and twentieth of every month and, if he lost then, he stayed away from the brokers until the like date the next month. Do you think he was consulting an astrologist or fortune-teller of some sort?”

  John Patrick laughed heartily. “You are letting your imagination run away with you,” he said. “No, I think we are about to disclose some very strange facts, but I doubt if it will be anything as bizarre as crystal-gazing. However, apropos of his methodical method of trading, I’ll tell you something Miss Small confided to me. You know you did a whole lot better with her than I did, in spite of my confidence-inspiring white hair, but I did get this one thing she must have forgotten to mention to you. She said that when Edwin first began coming to the theater she noticed his visits were always between the fifteenth and twentieth of the month. So there are our mysterious dates again. She figured him as a traveling salesman who covered the territory on regular dates, but he himself told her who he was and recently, say for the past month or two, his visits have been irregular. Now what can you make out of that?”

  I was very much excited. “Why, if there is any significance at all to the time element in his trading, then his flurries in the market must be connected definitely with his visits to the Crystal Palace, and we know—or at least we think we do—that these visits are in the nature of a blind for some activity he wishes to keep secret. Then it is bigger than we thought it was—he made use of this alibi before the afternoon Cyrus was killed.”

  “What are you going to do about the girl’s story of his car being outside the Crystal Palace, when we are almost certain he himself was elsewhere?”

  “I don’t know,” I said thoughtfully. “It may signify that we are on the wrong track altogether, or else it may mean he has another car.”

  John Patrick smiled slowly. “Once again I think you are underrating your opponent. Just where would you expect his car to be, when he is pretending to be at the movies? So there is your next job cut out for you—return to Belton tomorrow and start looking around in the alley-way back of the theater. Put yourself in Edwin’s place—you want to go somewhere and you want to keep out of sight as much as possible—but remember, Bob, small towns have eyes and ears as well.”

  “Do you think his remark to the colored boy in the garage was significant?” I asked, my mind harking back to what I considered the most interesting information obtained in town.

  “Like his remark about the modest fortune, it interests me as a psychological factor. I would like to know, for instance, if what he said to the urchin was a matter of action and reaction. Did the sight of the vanity case, or whatever it was, cause him to think of one particular girl and that girl, in turn, inspire him immediately to go to the movies. Is some such idea the basic clue of our plot? We don’t dare say it is, for after all the remark may well have been one of those casual things you say when you hand out a tip. I’m inclined to distrust these psychological problems; most of them must be solved by painstaking logic, and then, of course, I am privileged to murmur in a superior way, ‘Yes, yes, I could see it had to be thus-and-so, the psychology of the situation pointed unmistakably in that direction’.”

  “Of course, the girl and the cinema may have had some connection, in fact, had he actually gone to see the picture; but, as long as we have decided he wasn’t there at all, I don’t believe the vanity case has anything to do with it.”

  My chief was thoughtful. “I can’t help but feeling, all the same, as if I would like to know the identity of the owner. Perhaps if we had seen the case we could have told something about her personality and tastes. Do you think you are experienced enough to look into a girl’s compact and tell from the sort of powder she uses if she is a blonde or brunette?”

  “It can’t be done,” I muttered gloomily, wincing as I thought of the amount of brilliant coloring adorning the little debutante I had escorted to the last Bachelor’s Cotillion. “They all use the brightest paint and the whitest powder they can find, regardless of the complexion the good Lord granted them in the beginning.”

  “My, my!” exclaimed John Patrick, “a cynic and at your age, too. You are missing a lot in life. Now, we know there is a feminine influence and so whom would you pick as a candidate for Edwin’s attentions? Edwin is up to something so mysterious that we can’t afford to neglect such clues as come to our hand.”

  Then it dawned on me, the point my chief had been driving at. “Why, of course, Edwin hasn’t been asked anywhere since the bank scandal. Not a hostess would have him on her list, and if some girl is going out with him, she either is not in our circle, or else her family is ignorant of her friendship with him.”

  “I thought you’d see pretty soon why I was so anxious to hear more about the mysterious compact. It can’t be helped now, but do keep your eyes and ears open and see if we get any other trace of the lady. I like that clue very much.”

  I was now as eager as if I had thought of this idea all by myself, instead of having nearly missed it. That must be my next job: to find out something about the unknown.

  The next morning my chief and I went down to breakfast together. As we entered the dining-room I had a strange feeling as if we were interrupting a scene in a play, coming on a stage where we did not belong at all. Tom was sitting at the head of the table, a deep angry scowl on his face. Charles was standing in front of the hearth, his back turned to the fire, and he was repeatedly tossing a small object up in the air and catching it in his palm. Our advent startled him; he missed his catch and stooped hastily to retrieve the object, whatever it was.

  Tom was watching him intently. He gave a harsh laugh as he said, “Here are our two lawyers right now. How about getting the estate settled up so we can all of us get some ready money? Charles has been exhibiting his last cent and he almost lost it.” He laughed again with a shaky sneer in his voice and I wondered what had upset him so.

  Then I looked at Charles curiously, for the sharp ring made when the small piece of metal fell on the hearthstones had not sounded like money to me. John Patrick was replying to Tom’s question smoothly enough, although I knew he was irritated.

  “It is a case where haste makes waste, I’m afraid; if I sell off enough property to settle the legacies in cash right now, I’d be selling stuff worth three times what it will bring, and if I turn over securities to the full value of the legacies, I have to wait until I can inventory the whole estate. Surely, you see that, Tom? It is to your interest, as well as the boys’.”

  Tom removed a small packet of notes from his wallet and passed them over to Charles, who had in the meantime sat down at his place without even wishing us good morning. “Sure, I see it all right,” Tom admitted good-naturedly. “I am willing to be banker while I have the cash, but when I run out I fear you will have to do something.”

  “You don’t want me to put securities on the market?�
�� John Patrick asked in surprise.

  Tom said nothing for a moment and then spoke in a serious tone. “If you don’t mind, let’s talk it over after breakfast. After all, the loss would be mine and mine alone, and I think the time has come for me to get busy about the details of the settlement myself. Suppose I come up to your study, at say ten this morning, and we can go into the matter and decide what securities we can best afford to sacrifice.”

  “Certainly,” answered my chief stiffly. “I should not consider taking any such course without your authority and approval; furthermore, I feel it my duty to warn you against making any drastic move right now. And, by the way, Bob has some business to do for me this morning so, unless you wish it especially, he will not be present.”

  Tom shrugged his shoulders, not caring apparently whether I was to be there or not. So far as I was concerned, I was delighted to be excused from attendance at the financial discussion, since I realized that if Tom was going to press us for a settlement of the estate, it behooved us to find out as much as possible about the other matter while we still had the time and were in the most advantageous position to do so. I momentarily considered the wisdom of taking Tom into our confidence and explaining to him why we were delaying as we were, but, on thinking it over, I decided that any such course was distinctly up to my chief, and I believed he would be loath to adopt it save as a final resort. Tom’s attitude since his acquittal was decidedly laissez-faire as regarded the apprehension of the criminal—at least it was in sharp contrast to the ardent desire for reprisal kindled in me by my mild brush with the police. The Master of Bayside gave me the impression that he would like to be left alone to enjoy his enviable prosperity and position, without the need of ferreting out the perpetrator of the crime which had so suddenly brought it about.