The lattice work was propping it up there, unbelievably, like a weirdly extended, clumsy stilt. Then the lattice swayed further and lost its last hold on the wall with a series of popping reports and began to fall, crumpling in on itself, away from the house.
The black figure mouthed incoherent, terrified sounds, twisting in the air. And directly under it, gleaming like quicksilver, was the slickly sullen surface of Heloise's swimming pool. The lattice hit the edge of the pool, and the water opened up with a resounding boom.
Carstairs raced his shadow across the lawn and skidded on the edge of the pool.
"Carstairs!" Doan shouted. "Stay out of there! Let him drown, and save the state money! Stay out--"
Carstairs dove into the pool.
"Oh, hell's fire!" Doan exclaimed angrily.
He whirled away from the window and ran out of the bedroom. Trent tore down the stairs after him, jerking Melissa along behind with a viselike grip on her wrist. They drummed along the hall and out the front door and around the side of the house.
Doan pulled out ahead of them going down the slope of the lawn. His heels grated on the tiled edge of the pool. The surface of the water was ripped and torn to froth, and then Carstairs' head heaved up out of it. He had a black, chunky, limp arm gripped in his jaws, and he was coughing in half-strangled snorts.
"Let go!" Doan yelled. "Let him drown! Who cares? Come here! Here! Here!"
Carstairs kept his grip and plowed away determinedly at the water. He came agonizingly closer. Doan leaned far out and grabbed the arm.
"All right! So you're a hero! Let go!"
Doan heaved back, and the black, ugly form slithered wetly out on the edge of the pool. Doan kicked it aside.
"Sit on him for a minute," he ordered no one in particular. "Carstairs! Now, come here, stupid! Here!"
Carstairs floundered against the side wall, and Doan got him by the collar. He hauled. Carstairs' forelegs flopped out on the tile. His back legs churned powerfully at the water. He came up and out suddenly, snorting and dripping.
Doan fell over backwards. "Now, watch out! Don't--Ow!"
Carstairs walked right over his prone form. He stepped aside, but not far enough aside, and shook himself.
"Floosh!" Doan sputtered. He sat up, wiping his face. "I'm going to kill you someday. I mean that seriously."
Carstairs stopped shaking and sat down and began to pant victoriously.
Melissa said in a small, stunned voice: "Mr. Doan, this--this--this is Professor Sley-Mynick."
"Yup," said Doan, getting to his feet. "Let's see if he's still working."
He knelt down beside the wet, black form. Professor Sley-Mynick's thin face was bluish and distorted, and little bubbles burst frothily on his lumpy mustache. Doan probed with exploring fingers.
"Cracked his skull," he stated. "Must have hit the bottom of the pool. He'll probably live, though."
"But--but did he..."
"He did," said Doan cheerfully. "He's your little old prowler in person."
"Oh!" Melissa exclaimed. "Then there was something awful and familiar... But what was he doing in my apartment?"
"It's just like I told you. He thought he was in Trent's apartment."
"What did he want in my apartment?" Trent demanded.
"I think he was going to fix up a nice little booby trap for you. That's why he had both the knife and the gun with him. He probably had a strip of rubber inner tubes and some nails with him, too. He was going to fasten the knife to the tube and the tube to the nails in such a way that when you opened the drawer, the tube would stretch and then flip the knife in your face. It's easy to fix up a trap like that if you know how."
"With a knife?" Trent said doubtfully. "That seems sort of uncertain."
"He didn't want to kill you. I mean, he didn't care whether he did or not. He just wanted to remove you from the campus. It didn't matter whether you were removed to the hospital or to the morgue."
"And Frank Ames?" Melissa said.
"There he was turning his car around when Sley-Mynick walked right out into the alley--and into Ames' headlights--busily engaged in peeling off that stocking mask. Ames recognized him at once. He stopped the car and got out to see what in the devil he was up to. You can see the fix that put Sley-Mynick in. There wasn't any story he could dream up that would pacify Ames permanently, because when Ames found out that the prowler had socked Melissa one, Ames was going to sound off like a fire siren. Sley-Mynick is not a man who takes long to make up his mind. He hadn't used his knife yet, and so now he did. He cut Ames' throat and dumped him in that garbage can, hoping to be able to drive in the alley and pick him up and tote him off somewhere and bury him. But he couldn't put that last idea over. Carstairs and I came snooping around after him. He shot at us and then he had to scram."
Melissa said, "And--and Beulah?"
"Remember what I said about how I went into her apartment and listened around? She couldn't have heard you yip if her door had been shut. I think she had her door open a little. I think she was snooping, just like the Aldriches were. I think she wanted to see whether or not Ames came up to your apartment with you."
Melissa nodded slowly. "Beulah was a little like that. She was nosey."
"And this time it was fatal. She saw the prowler. He ran past her door on the way out. I don't think she recognized him positively, or she would have said so. But she saw enough to make her wonder, because she was already wondering. Remember what she said when we were first talking about Sley-Mynick? She said he was a good biochemist--meaning he had been. Physics is sort of close to biochemistry, and Beulah Porter Coveys must have spotted something that Sley-Mynick did or said that made her a little leery. I mean, I suppose she was just sort of wondering about it vaguely, and this was something added. In any event, I'm sure she went around and talked to him the next morning, and he must have told her something that pacified her for the moment."
"What?" Trent demanded.
"I have no idea. He's a slicker. Anyway, Beulah Porter Cowys made a very bad mistake after that. She went to Heloise's place. That cooked her goose. I don't know whether she went there just to get her face fixed or whether she had some other reason. Neither did Sley-Mynick, I suppose. But he couldn't take a chance on her talking to Heloise about him. Carstairs' riot gave him his chance, although he would have managed it by some hook or crook anyway. That sort of wiped things up for Sley-Mynick. He'd had bad luck running into Ames and getting spotted by Beulah Porter Cowys, but now they were cleared away, and he went back after you again. He shied that tile at you. That probably wouldn't have killed you unless it hit you in the head, but it wouldn't have done you much good, either."
Trent said, "But why--"
Carstairs growled. Doan whipped around alertly, jerking the revolver from under his coat.
There was a man walking down the slope of the lawn toward them slowly and portentously, his shadow jigging eerily thin ahead of him.
"It's Morales!" Melissa gasped.
"Not any more," said Doan. "Now it's Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz, the great detective."
"How do you do," said Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz. "I see that, by sheer luck, you have managed to capture my quarry. You probably have no admissible evidence against him, so it is fortunate that I have arrived."
"What evidence have you?" Trent demanded.
"An unassailable case. I always make certain I have an unassailable case before I make an arrest. This man is demonstrably and unmistakably guilty of the murder of Herbert 'Big Tub' Tremaine in a cottage on the outskirts of Piedras Negras, State of Coahuila, Mexico, seven months and eleven days ago!'
"Who?" Trent said sharply.
"What?" said Melissa. "Big Tub Tremaine!" She stared accusingly at Doan. "You told me he had committed suicide!"
"I thought he had," said Doan. He looked at Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz. "Your authorities should file a little clearer reports."
"I suppose they do seem a little complicated to the dull-witted,"
Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz answered indifferently.
Doan said to Melissa: "The report said just what I told you--that Tremaine had heaved himself in the drink in front of a lot of witnesses, and that they'd had a lot of trouble fishing him out again. Well, the trouble was that it took them four days to recover his body, and by that time he was all chewed to pieces."
"But you said--he said--"
"I will explain the matter," said Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz, "because it involves some very brilliant feats of scientific detection. Big Tub Tremaine wished to flee to Mexico because he had embezzled some money from his wife. He had formerly worked in carnivals. He went down to Skid Row--a region in Los Angeles frequented by many vagrants--and located a character, a man he had known formerly in his carnival days, called Bumbershoot Bennie."
"Bumbershoot Bennie," Trent said numbly.
"Yes. Big Tub Tremaine hailed him with great joviality as a dear old pal. Big Tub Tremaine was going on a vacation trip to Mexico, he said, and nothing would do but that his old friend, Bumbershoot Bennie, should accompany him. But first he must buy Bumbershoot Bennie a new outfit of clothes. To show his great generosity and good heart, he would buy Bumbershoot Bennie an outfit as good as he was wearing himself. In fact, he would buy Bumbershoot Bennie an outfit exactly like the one he was wearing. He did."
"Oh," said Trent.
"Then," said Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz, "they started in Big Tub Tremaine's car for Ensenada. Somewhere along the road--as yet I don't know just where--Big Tub Tremaine killed Bumbershoot Bennie by beating him over the head with a tire iron. Then he tied a rope around Bumbershoot Bennie and threw him in the surf where there were some sharp rocks. He let Bumbershoot Bennie grind against the rocks for two days, until he was completely disfigured. Then he pulled the body in and put it in the rumble seat of his car."
"Oooh," said Melissa sickly.
"And then," said Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz, "he drove to Ensenada. He picked an appropriate spot and, secretly and by stealth, threw Bumbershoot Bennie in the ocean again. Next he put on a noisy performance in a bar, threatening loudly and dramatically to drown himself. Then he ran forth into the darkness, pursued by the people in the bar, and dove into the ocean. There was a wind, and the water was rough. It was at night, you remember. He swam under water away from the searchers, came ashore, and went his way. The police kept on searching until they found Bumbershoot Bennie's body, wearing Big Tub Tremaine's ring and his wrist watch, with Big Tub Tremaine's wallet in the pocket of a suit that obviously fitted the body and exactly matched the description of the clothes Big Tub Tremaine was wearing. It is quite understandable that in the circumstances they identified Bumbershoot Bennie's body as that of Big Tub Tremaine."
"And--and what next?" Melissa asked.
"Big Tub Tremaine wandered around, under various aliases, in Mexico for some two years. Finally he came to Piedras Negras, where he fell in with the murderous Sley-Mynick. And you can see what a temptation he offered to Sley-Mynick. He was already supposed to be dead, and in any event he was wanted as a criminal. He still had some of the money he had embezzled. Sley-Mynick murdered him and buried him in the patio of the cottage."
"Oh!" said Melissa. "But what in the world--"
"Pardon me. I am not finished yet. Sley-Mynick came to the university, thinking his murderous secret was safe forever, but he reckoned without Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz. I followed him relentlessly. And all would have been well if you had not appeared."
"Me?" said Trent.
"Yes. Naturally Sley-Mynick's evil conscience bothered him. He thought that Big Tub Tremaine's wife had gotten some inkling of his guilt and had set you to spy on him. He tried to get rid of you as he brushed aside the other fools who got in his way."
"Wait a minute," said Trent. "Why did you break my instruments?"
"I didn't. Sley-Mynick did that in an outburst of rage because he missed you with that tile he threw."
"Why didn't you say he did it--at the time?"
Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz said, "Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz has a reputation. I did not intend to have Sley-Mynick arrested until I was ready to do it myself."
"Sley-Mynick murdered Heloise. You caused her death by not speaking up about him when you should have."
Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz shrugged magnificently. "What of it? She is not Mexican. She was only an American."
"Well, so was Big Tub Tremaine."
"That is an entirely different matter. It must be known to all evildoers that they cannot murder anyone--not even an American--in the State of Coahuila without answering to Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz. Now I have wasted enough time here. You, Doan. Pick up the culprit and carry him to my car. I will go through the formalities and then return him to Mexico to meet his fate."
"He's wanted here for a few murders," Doan said.
"That is immaterial. I have a federal warrant certified and cleared by the state department. It takes precedence over local authority."
"Who is the warrant for?" Doan asked.
"For Sley-Mynick, naturally."
"Then it's no good, because this guy on the ground isn't Sley-Mynick."
"Are you insane?" Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz demanded.
"No. You did all right with your detection, but you didn't look hard enough at matters before you started. Just consider for a moment. On the one hand we have Big Tub Tremaine--a carnival tough guy, an embezzler and a murderer at least once. I think he'd done in several here and there before Bumbershoot Bennie, because you don't learn as much as he knew about murder just overnight. And on the other hand you have Professor Sley-Mynick--a poor beaten-up biochemist on the run from the Gestapo. Sley-Mynick and Big Tub Tremaine met in Piedras Negras, and one did the other in. Which one would be most likely to be the murderer?"
Sebastian Rodriguez y Ruiz said some things to himself in firecracker Spanish.
Doan smiled. "Sure. You slipped because Professor Sley-Mynick turned up and took his job as big as life."
"What are you talking about?" Trent demanded.
"Professor Sley-Mynick didn't kill Big Tub Tremaine. Big Tub Tremaine murdered Sley-Mynick. That's Big Tub Tremaine dying right there."
"Oh!" Melissa gasped. "Oh!"
"Don't you see what a wonderful deal this was for him?" Doan asked. "Big Tub Tremaine wanted to get back to the States. Probably he was fed up with Mexico and tortillas and enchiladas and frijoles and everything else Mexican--even the senoritas. That's the way with most fugitives. Before they commit their crimes they gloat over the dough they're going to grab and the life of luxury they're going to lead in some far away clime, but once they beat it out of the country they get homesick and the thing they want most in the world is to get back."
"I'm beginning to catch on," said Melissa.
"Of course," said Doan.
"Big Tub was afraid if he came back and the cops didn't spot him, his wife would--a fate worse than arrest."
"Exactly," said Doan.
"So he needed some place to hide," Melissa went on. "Also he needed some identity other than his own and a means of occupying himself respectably so that no one would suspect who he actually was."
"Smart girl," Doan told her. "Sley-Mynick's identity was ready-made for Big Tub. It included a job at a good salary and a nice refined, quiet place--the university--to hide as long as he wanted to. It was ideal. The fact that it was quite near, to where his wife had her beauty salon made little or no difference. When people are looking for something they're less likely to find it when it's stuck right under their nose."
"But Big Tub Tremaine wasn't a biochemist," Trent objected. "How could he hope to get away with such a disguise?"
"You forget," said Doan, "he was a onetime medicine show spieler. He could talk the lingo of drugs and chemicals and bell jars and test tubes right out of the pharmacopoeia. Whether or not what he said would make sense is something else again, but who were his undergraduate listeners to question whether the stuff their eminent European pr
ofessor was giving them was straight from the shoulder fact or carnival doubletalk?"
Carstairs moved about restlessly, stopped in front of Doan, looked up and yawned.
"I know," Doan told him, "I bore you. But there are others present and they are interested, so keep still for a minute until I'm finished."
Carstairs lay down, crossed his paws and closed his eyes.
"Sure," said Doan, "for a long while Big Tub's disguise was perfect. He always had the Gestapo to fall back on, remember. Maybe he didn't know quite as much as he should about biochemistry. Well, his mind was confused and had been ever since he left Hungary. The Gestapo had knocked a good part of his knowledge out of him. And suppose he didn't look just exactly like the old Sley-Mynick. The Gestapo had disfigured him. And suppose he dodged people. The Gestapo had made him shy. Any possible slip he made, he could blame on the Gestapo, and no one would question him because his nerves were in such bad shape, poor man."
The Essential Works of Norbert Davis Page 36
