“It didn’t seem very illuminating to me,” I objected. “I thought for a second that Charles was going to confide in us, but when he didn’t he left me as much at sea as ever.”
“He did confide in us. Why should he have given us the key at all? Why didn’t he take it with him? One answer is, he can’t trust his associates. He is up against something he hasn’t quite figured out, upset by something bigger than he expected it to be. Yet, through it all, he turns to us. Well, perhaps it is unethical, an abuse of trust, but I am going to use this key.”
“You are going to do what?” I asked in astonishment.
“I am going through Charles’ rooms,” explained my chief. “Call it an old man’s curiosity, if you will, but I rather think it may be a good idea.”
“What do you expect to find?” I queried.
“Probably nothing,” answered Vaile cheerfully. “I believe Charles told the absolute truth when he said that there was nothing of value in his rooms. But there was last night, or some one believed there was. Then, if they were looking for a large object—where did Charles put it, always supposing he really had it?”
“Why limit yourself to large objects?” I pointed out. “You might as well say, where did he put a small one?”
“Easy. He has it on his person,” my chief retorted quickly.
It was not until after lunch that we had an opportunity to go upstairs. We were alone in the house, Tom having gone up to town immediately after the meal, and Edwin being still absent. Tom, by the way, was resuming his legal practice and many people were remarking on the decided change in the type of his clientele. It was as if his experience on the wrong side of the prisoner’s dock had dampened his ardor for criminal practice. His feet, now, were firmly set on what among my lighter-minded brethren is known as the path to the judge’s seat.
I suppressed a smile at the thought, as I climbed the stair in the wake of my unconventional chief. As long as I followed the example he had been setting me of late, there was small danger of my colleagues accusing me of tempering my actions to gain a seat on the bench.
The key Charles had left us fitted the middle room of the suite, the one we, on the floor below, used as a study. We went in and found the room in wild disorder. Furniture was piled up against the broken window, trash, hastily swept out of the desk drawers, was on the floor, and gray ashes in the grate bore testimony to the burning of some papers.
With a low cry, John Patrick rushed to the door of the room Charles had been sleeping in. He tried the knob; it was locked, but I spied a bunch of keys on the mantelpiece and these I handed to him. He opened the door and hurried over to the bureau and pulled open the drawers, one after another.
“It’s all right,” he said, turning to me, “Charles’ personal belongings are still here. I was afraid I had spoken too hastily when I said that it was odd none of our friends had attempted to leave Bayside. It would be a grave error to let Charles get away, an irremediable error.”
“He’d come back,” I remarked cynically. “Has it occurred to you that, if Edwin is guilty of Cyrus’ murder, his share of the estate goes to his brother?” John Patrick looked at me strangely. “Perhaps he couldn’t come back. There is more in this than we have realized, Bob. I haven’t lived sixty odd years without knowing the hallmark fear imprints on the face of a human being. That is really why I want to search this suite. Right now, Pm not half as interested in knowing what was in here last night as I am in finding out just what is going on around us today.”
I gazed down at the keys I had found on the mantel, the ones John Patrick had used to open the door of the bedroom. “It almost seems as if he expected us to come in here.”
“I have had the same uncomfortable feeling for the past five minutes,” confessed my chief. “That’s bad, for it means he knows we are up to something. But it’s too late for discretion now; I’m going ahead with my search and hope I haven’t led us both into a trap.”
“Why couldn’t he leave whatever he wanted us to find in plain sight?” I asked angrily. I was impatient with Charles’ devious scheming and, if the truth be told, not a little anxious to get out of his suite.
“We are expected to find nothing, I think,” said Vaile soberly, “and we are to draw our own conclusions from the negative result. But I hope to defeat this amiable idea.”
Our search was methodical and inclusive. I even experimented with the drains in the bathroom to ascertain if anything were concealed in them. At the end of an hour, we were no farther forward and we had been over every inch of the suite. However, so thorough was our search that John Patrick, who had spied some few books on Charles’ desk, picked them up one by one, turning their leaves with care. From the last one there fluttered a dirty scrap of paper. My chief immediately seized it and, after scrutinizing it, held it out for me to see. On it were penciled the words, “Load in 11/10/32. Your share same place 5 o’clock sharp.”
“Come on, Bob,” John Patrick said. “Our last cast brought us in a small fish. Let’s take it downstairs with us.”
We locked up carefully and, with a sigh of relief, I found myself safe in our study. “What do you think this means?” I asked, gesturing with the paper which I now held.
“I think it is the paper which makes the appointment Charles was keeping when his uncle was killed.” John Patrick’s face wore a slightly triumphant smile. “He probably never knew that he had thrust it in where we found it. At any rate, it raises the question in my mind at once—just where is the place referred to? The note sounds as if Charles’ share was in payment for the use of the place—in which case, is Charles actually daring to run liquor in at Bayside?”
“It certainly proves that Charles is really engaged in bootlegging,” I observed. “Then why on earth is he so sensitive about it?”
My chief smacked his fist down on the table in front of him. “You’ve got it, boy, that’s the crux of the whole affair. Charles isn’t one of the big shots of the trade—he’s one of the errand boys. The ‘your share’ referred to in the notes probably means a few cases that he gets for disposal among his friends when he acts as minor rum-runner and go-between for the real bootleggers. Perhaps he even has a few choice customers among people in his own set, but all that he, himself, can lay claim to is being an amateur among professionals. If I know Charles at all, such a status must irk him not a little. No, sir, I am beginning to see this in a new light and I’ll wager any amount of money that the liquor cache, where Charles admits he was at the time when his uncle was killed, is right here on the estate.”
“I don’t see how you figure that,” I said. “But, if it is true, it seems to me we could find it by searching along the beach.”
“You forget that it is probably empty right now and we might not know what it was if we did stumble across it. But, as to how I figured it out—I merely tried to see in what way a green youth could make himself valuable to a professional bootlegger. This is the way I read the story; Charles takes the cruiser down to the mouth of the Chesapeake, where he, in common with perhaps a score of pleasure boats, hangs around until the real rum-boat comes up to unload. Then he and perhaps one or more of the little boats unload their cargo around here and later it is picked up by trucks for delivery. If Charles’ pay is a few cases of liquor, then the method is as cheap as it is safe, for no Coast Guard boat is going to intercept a small private cruiser on its run up the Bay.”
I was thinking very hard now. “Suppose Charles was on the estate at five o’clock, or even before, when his uncle was killed,—was he alone? How did he get John Smith to testify for him?”
My chief grinned “You prove the existence of the cache first, and then I think I can answer that question for you.”
“I can forget about Edwin then?” I asked.
“Oh, Lord, no!” John Patrick groaned. “Edwin had slipped my mind entirely, but we mustn’t neglect him. Charles has insinuated himself into things before we were ready to consider him at all. Right now, we have so many suspic
ious persons to investigate that, if this keeps up, we’ll have to swear in some deputies. Get in your car and go over to Belton right now. It will be dark in an hour, or less, and he may have found the handkerchief and attempt to return it this afternoon. I can’t go with you, but I’ll tell you just what to do. Remember this is a trial trip, just a confirmation of our hypothesis. Get a seat in the Crystal Palace where you can watch people as they come in. If you see Edwin, wait until he goes out the side door, then skip out into your car—only for Heaven’s sake, don’t park it where he can see it—and head straight for the intersection of the country roads; there is the logical place for a car to pick him up if there is going to be a car in this picture at all. You’ll have plenty of time to get to it without being observed, if you drive fast enough. Wait there until you are sure you have eliminated the possibility of some one meeting him, and then head back for some point of vantage on the pathway. Remember, you are not to trail him this time, just see if you can spot him on his return trip. If you do, it gives us that much territory we don’t have to cover when we actually follow him on his next visit. Also, keep your eye on your watch; he’ll be back here for dinner, so don’t wait after seven-fifteen yourself.”
I obeyed my instructions, finding myself at the Crystal Palace in no time. I took a seat in the back row, close to the main entrance, so I could observe the face of each newcomer, and there I waited. In the course of the next half hour, there were but few people coming in and I was growing weary of my task, when with a sudden thrill I saw Edwin entering from the brightly lighted foyer. Instinctively I drew back into the shadows of my seat for concealment, keeping my eyes glued on the dark figure proceeding without hesitation down the side aisle and out the side entrance. As soon as the door closed behind him, I was on my feet and after him. At the door, caution overtook me and I paused a few seconds to give my quarry a sufficient start, lest I come upon him too suddenly and defeat my main object before I had a chance to get really started.
Then I pushed open the door and went out. It was already dark outside. I ran across the street to the garage, which had afforded the double advantage of easy concealment and ready access to my car, and in less than five minutes after Edwin had entered the theater I was on my way to the crossroad where I was expected to take up my watch. On my way out of the side exit, I noticed the Chrysler still parked beside the curb—everything was going according to expectations.
When I reached the spot appointed for my post of observation, not another car was in sight. This was a lonely part of the road, seldom used save by those whose business took them to a farmhouse along the way, since the main traffic between the towns was carried on a concrete highway to the west. I expected to find mine the only car traversing the dirt road, unless the motor destined to afford refuge to my quarry should materialize. Therefore, when once I saw the road was clear, I lost no time in hiding myself, lest I should alarm any watchers and so frustrate my plans as well as theirs. I turned off the by-way into a wooded field, fortunately unfenced, and secreted my car in the underbrush, leaving a clear view for myself once my suspicions should be aroused by the sound of a motor.
There I sat, my tiny coupe hidden by the bushes, enjoying the sights and sounds of the clear December night, gazing up out of the side windows at the pale frosty stars so high above the tree-tops. Once I stiffened to attention, as the headlights of a car swept the road, but when the auto rushed by at undiminished speed, I sank back to continue the, by-no-means, unenjoyable vigil. I was dreaming idly, rather liking the cool crispness of the air, the pleasant silence of the early evening, when I came to myself with a start and glanced at my wrist-watch—six-fifteen, forty minutes since I had left the theater. I had idled far too long waiting for Edwin’s hypothetical associates, who all too clearly did not purpose to pick him up in a car. I drove out of the woods, cursing myself for my negligence, for now my luck must be good indeed to get back to the path before Edwin returned.
Parking a block from the garage, I hurried down the street. It was supper hour in most of the houses I passed, and the clear squares of light from the unshaded windows speckled the walks along which I sprinted. Catching glimpses of the people within sitting down to their prosaic family meal, gave me an odd feeling of unreality. Here was I, life on either hand going normally on its everyday trends, yet I, a respectable and I hope respected, young lawyer, running madly through a peaceful village, spying on one whom I suspected of being a ruthless killer. My heart pounded, the blood raced in my veins, and my spine prickled with a delicious joy. I had cut free from the commonplace and was bound on a quest of mystery and excitement.
To my great delight, I saw, when I came close enough, that the Chrysler had not been moved. Then Edwin was still about his mysterious business. Moving cautiously, I hurried down the alley-way and climbed through the board fence. From here on I must proceed with care and as much silence as I could manage. I had the added disadvantage of having traversed the trail but once and that in the daylight.
I had not quite reached what I had mentally picked as the half-way point, when I heard a twig snap not twenty feet away. The night was too dark for me to see clearly, but I stepped off the path and crouched motionless in the grass. A form flitted past silently and I marked my surroundings well, for I was sure the newcomer was Edwin and, therefore, I had succeeded in my object.
Waiting long enough to give him time to get back to his car, I returned and regained my own. As I drove past the Crystal Palace I saw no sign of him, and I realized that his car would make far better time back to Bayside than mine and, since he had remained beyond the time which would put him back before the dinner hour, I was going to be very late indeed.
It was rather a negative triumph I savored as I rode along. I had actually proved our hypothesis; Edwin did leave the theater and go along that curious pathway just as we had surmised. I knew, likewise, that, tonight at least, no roving car had picked him up; but where he had been or what he had done, I was no closer to guessing than before.
As I had expected, Edwin had joined Tom and my chief at dinner sometime before I arrived. I stole a glance at him as I sat down; his glowering ill-humor was so apparent that I became uneasy. Had he guessed our interest in his affairs? Murderer, or no, Edwin would be an unpleasant customer to deal with, once aroused to anger by what would seem to him unwarranted interference in his business.
I made a smooth apology to Tom for my lateness. On the way over from Belton, I had decided that ready equivocation was my best policy, so I explained that my car had been in the garage for the best part of the afternoon, and the work had taken longer than I had expected. Then, if Edwin had by any chance observed the Henley, I could provide a glib explanation of my presence in Belton. My apology called forth no comment, however; Tom and I chatted for a few moments, while Edwin remained blackly silent, and John Patrick watched him like a cat.
Then Edwin reached in his pocket, suddenly whipping out a square of white linen. “Whose tomfoolery is this?” he growled. It was the handkerchief I had placed in his car. Fascinated, I nearly stretched out a hand for it, unconscious of what I was doing. But Edwin, staring at first one and then the other of us, seemed not to be aware of my error. He thrust the handkerchief away, growling, “Probably one of my charming brother’s tricks.”
John Patrick spoke in the casual, soothing tone that so often effected results when inquisitiveness or bullying slammed the door on information. “Anything special about a pretty handkerchief to disturb you so much?”
“Plenty,” growled Edwin, “Eve got enough on my mind right now, without being worried by a fool trick. If I ever find out that it was anything but a trick—“ he let the threat remain unnamed.
During this interchange Tom said not a word, merely glancing at Edwin in slight scorn. Now he spoke, “We are all getting too edgy. I think Charles was right in going away for a few days. Edwin, why don’t you go off for the holidays and get a little rest?”
“Do you mean by that, you’ll advance
me the money to go?” Edwin sneered.
“Willingly,” Tom answered coolly. “If I had the money at hand, I’d advance you your share of the estate. Unfortunately, I haven’t the resources, and Mr. Vaile doesn’t consider it wise to pay off the legacies until the main body of the estate is cleared up.”
“We’ve gone into the question a million times,” said Edwin in disgust. “No, I’m not to be bought off with a few hundred. I’ll stay right here until the last penny of the estate is accounted for.”
“I’ll be glad to advance enough so you can get away for a while,” persisted Tom.
“Thank you, no,” Edwin responded decently enough. “It cannot be so much longer now and I have a hankering to stay on.”
We rose from dinner and, on Tom’s invitation, joined him in the living-room. As if he felt that the dinner table conversation had been too pointed, he politely expressed a feeling that John Patrick and I were working too steadily, and suggested that we should spend the evening in a more leisurely manner than had been our custom.
Edwin vanished promptly after the meal and, though I strained my ears, I heard no sounds of his car going out, so I presumed he remained somewhere in the house. At any rate, for some reason not clear to myself, I doubted that he would risk a second visit to the cinema the same day.
The evening passed quickly and will always remain in my mind as one of the few tranquil spots of our Bayside sojourn. With the removal of Charles’ turbulent personality and the withdrawal of Edwin’s gloomy self, we chatted away in peaceful equanimity. Not once was the subject of the murder touched upon, even by implication. We talked rather of hunting, of politics, of tobacco, of big things and little things that go to make up a stag convention.
It was late when we finally adjourned for the night, and I realized with a start of surprise that I had much to confide to my chief. As soon as we gained our room, I told him of my attendance at the Crystal Palace in the afternoon and its result, confirmative of our theory but disappointingly negative.
Murder at Bayside Page 17
