“As I say, I can’t even guess how much he wanted; but however much or little it was, you realized that your secret was no longer your own. I don’t know whether you bashed him in the head and carried him down cellar or shoved him down first and then bashed him. The result was all the same. You should have left the cellar light on, though. It would have looked much more natural if he had been found with the light on—as if he’d started down for something. Still, I suppose one instinctively leaves a job of that sort in darkness, and you weren’t thinking very clearly just then.
“When you started out of the store you were probably really panicky. But you saw the flatfoot loitering across the street and came to your senses.
You walked a few steps, then turned back and opened the shop door and called something back, presumably to someone within and came out chuckling. It was an excellent bit of play acting and fooled Murphy completely—fooled us all for a while. It was late in the afternoon and the back of the store was dark. With that sort of a business there would probably be no more customers that day. There was a good chance that nothing would be discovered until it was too late to tie you directly to it; but, even so, I imagine you had a bad night. After all, old Adolph was rather a feeble old gentleman, and murder wasn’t exactly a part of your everyday routine—even the murder of a pathetic old amateur blackmailer. But once you start this business, one thing follows another and it’s hard to know just where to draw the line.”
Fenner paused upon this observation and glanced around at his listeners. Borden returned his glance impassively when their eyes met but mostly he stared out of the windows or around the blank walls. Hanley, whose rapt attention had been centered upon Fenner throughout the long discourse, relaxed a little and allowed his glance to sweep furtively over Borden. The uniformed policeman who from the background had listened avidly to the denouement of a larceny mystery such as he was not likely to encounter again in many a year, shifted his weight and settled himself into a more restful position against the wall. Bryce, who had listened to his colleague with ungrudging admiration, now addressed Borden:
“What have you got to say, young man?” he urged. His notebook was open on his knee.
Borden regarded him with ill-concealed disgust.
“I have only this to say—that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. “It’s obvious enough that some sort of a frame-up is being put over and that I’m to be the goat. I’ve got nothing to say until you get Morton down here or take me to him so I can face him. Aside from that I guess I’d better get a lawyer to do my ‘saying’ for me. I know my limitations and they don’t include debating with a bunch of clever sharks and getting myself locked up or worse for something I know nothing about.”
“Well said! Damned well said!” Fenner applauded. “You belong in the ‘Talkies,’ but you’re not kidding me.” He resumed his serious tone. “Furthermore you won’t be able to kid the judge or a jury. Your ‘or worse’ is the more likely.
“Now I’m going ahead from where I left off. Correct me from time to time if anything occurs to you. Last Thursday night and Friday you went about your business in quite the normal way. Friday afternoon I asked you to come to Knoeckler’s. The old man had been found dead. Now here was your first bad slip. Aside from leaving the tag in the level box, of course. Do you remember our interview? Probably not in detail. Well, the point is that you came in and went out of that shop without once demonstrating any normal curiosity as to where or how Mr. Knoeckler had met his end. You acted properly shocked and surprised when we told you he’d met it, but you didn’t bother to ask how or where. At the time I attributed this omission on your part simply to excitement, but I’ve since observed that you’re not the excitable sort. The obvious explanation was that you felt no curiosity about the details of Knoeckler’s death because you already knew all about it. As I say, that was your first bad break. Also, I observed you looking over that bench and desk in the shop with a great deal more than ordinary curiosity. Whether you were seeking anything in particular or just checking over to see that you had made no omissions or left anything incriminating in your wake on the previous evening, I do not know.
“Ever since the theft, but especially since Friday afternoon you have been a watched man, but you guessed that everyone who had been in the vault would be watched, so you weren’t much disturbed. For five or six days you have gone about your business. Our little gesture of arresting Donegan was a quite futile sham so far as you were concerned. It didn’t fool you for a second. How long you would have continued simply to go about your business I do not know. I had nothing but conjecture to go on and would have had to wait however long you decided to make it.
“Wednesday morning you learned that Mr. Morton had in some way become suspicious of you. That altered everything. You had to act and act quickly. You were too closely watched to salvage your loot and make a getaway. There was only one alternative. Morton met with an ‘accident.’ Then you conceived the brilliant idea of laying the ghost forever by planting the tag on him. When it was found, he would be beyond reach of our questions. The mystery would be forever sealed. The first indication that your scheme had miscarried came when Morton was taken away in an ambulance instead of a morgue wagon. Your iron bar had struck him only a glancing blow, but, even so, almost sufficient to do away with him. Since Wednesday you have been keeping posted almost hourly as to his condition.
“Late yesterday the indications were that he had a chance to pull through. You made preparations for a quick exit by telephoning your friend, Lowman, to bring the parcel check with him to the city today so you could get it. To be sure you were not on a tapped wire, you used a pay phone. Then you covered your tracks by making a call to your house. The ruse fooled McFadden. That was the number they gave him when he traced the call. It might have fooled me, too, if you had picked a booth farther from the job and had made the thing look more like an afterthought—something you’d forgotten. But to go right around the corner from your own job telephone—that’s a little too pointed.
“That small piece of bad judgment was probably the factor that spelled the difference between success and failure for your escape, for you were in the clear when you visited Lowman’s place this morning. I had traced the call and was on my way to see him, but perfectly innocent of any pursuit of you, when you barged in. I don’t know how you managed to give McFadden the slip, but you did. The rain was in your favor, and with practically every man on the job decked out in a yellow slicker it shouldn’t have been so terribly difficult. I was in the lobby of the building where Lowman works when you came in. It was pure luck I glimpsed you before you saw me. I went to the street and found neither McFadden nor his partner in sight, so I knew something was wrong and decided my little talk with Lowman had better be postponed. When you came down I followed you to the Hudson Terminal. When you went to the parcel room the whole situation dawned on me.
“As soon as you’re safely incarcerated I’m going back to see Lowman. I expect him to confirm certain details that will make the case a little more airtight. I believe he will, too. His wife was fairly communicative over the telephone while I was tracing up your call this morning. “
With a little nod, almost a bow, Fenner got up, indicating that insofar as he was concerned the meeting was adjourned.
“Inspector, I’ll turn this lad over to you. Between you and the district attorney he ought to get transportation up the river—with a one-way ticket. Too bad!”
Next he turned to Hanley.
“As for this stuff,” Fenner indicated the grip, “I’d like to see old Jeremy when you tell him to check it up, and Jerry too, if we can get him over by that time.”
Hanley pushed a button on his desk.
“You can have that pleasure in a very few moments,” he said. “I’m as anxious as anyone to get this nightmare over with.” He turned to a boy who had unobtrusively responded to his summons. “Ask Mr. Donegan, Sr., to step up here a moment.”
When
the boy had gone Hanley went on: “It’s going to be a gratifying privilege to announce the outcome of this affair at the Board meeting this afternoon. Mr. Fenner, I’m going to insist that you be present to receive the personal congratulations of the directors and whatever other form of appreciation they may decide upon.”
“Thank Bryce as much as me. It’s the steady pressure of the system that really brought this to a head.”
Bryce was busy at the telephone. He was instructing that Jerry Donegan be brought to the bank. Hanley got to his feet. It looked as if the meeting would break up. Only Borden remained seated. Now he spoke up:
“If I’m to be detained I’d like to use your phone to get in touch with Mr. Dickson. There are a number of matters at the job that he will have to attend to.”
“You’re to be detained, all right,” Bryce assured him grimly.
“Well, I’m not sure it will be for long,” Borden countered airily, “though I can see that a lot of explanation is indicated. But Mr. Fenner’s tissue hypothesis is more ingenious than plausible, when you take it apart. For instance, the assertion that I planted that tag on Mr. Morton is ridiculous.
Mr. Hanley himself was by Morton’s side before I reached him after the accident occurred and stayed with him until after he was taken away. I believe he will in ordinary fairness admit Mr. Fenner’s claim is quite impossible. Even if I had been so minded and had possessed a tag, there was never a second when Mr. Morton was not observed by at least two or three people.” He looked to Hanley appealingly.
The bank manager hesitated, apparently recalling the details of the previous afternoon. Finally he said with an air of reluctance: “I can’t say. There may be something in that, Fenner. I remember, now, that Dickson and Quinn and myself were down by Morton before Borden showed up; and after that—well, I don’t see how he could have done it without someone noticing.”
Fenner shrugged his shoulders. “That’s only one item in a long, long chain,” he pointed out. “I can’t pretend to reconstruct every detail. On that particular item we may as well wait for Mr. Morton to recover. In the meantime—” He waited suggestively.
“In the meantime you’re under arrest,” Bryce finished. He seized Borden’s elbow. The policeman moved over to Borden’s other side and they proceeded out. Going out they saw Old Jeremy coming down the corridor toward Hanley’s office. The old gentleman, glum as had been his wont of late, little realized the pleasant surprise in store for him.
When he entered the office Hanley crossed the room to meet him. He took the old man’s arm, saying: “I’ve got a job for you I think you’ll enjoy. I want you to check over the bag there against Jerry’s list. Jerry’s coming over directly. Then I want to have a talk with the two of you.”
“Where did it come from? Is everything all right now?” Jeremy asked dazedly.
“Yes, Jeremy, everything is all right. You two have been first victims of circumstances, then tools we reluctantly but of necessity used in our efforts to catch the thief.”
Jeremy took the canvas sack out of the grip, handling it as a father would a new-born child, and went down to his vault. When he returned a few moments later to announce that the consignment was intact he found his son in the office. Father and son greeted each other with surprising matter-of-factness.
Hanley addressed the two of them.
“You men have been through a lot,” he said. “This bank owes you apologies for what it has imposed on you. You were arrested, Jerry, purely with the object of stimulating the real thief to some sort of action that would betray him to us. Whether or not the ruse was particularly successful or useful is neither here nor there. In any case, the whole mess is over now, and I’m as glad for the sakes of you two as for any other reason.”
He looked at his watch. The afternoon was wearing on. The meeting would be called in an hour. His desk was full of matters requiring attention. To Jerry he said: “I want you to take a month off. Draw your pay in advance. When you come back I’ll have some good word for you. As for you, Jeremy, I’ll see you later.” He nodded significantly, and father and son, accepting the hint, departed. Hanley watched them go out. When the door had closed behind them he turned to the detective.
“If I remember correctly you said you believed Jerry lied about his actions during that noon hour,” he remarked. “You said as much to his father here Monday afternoon. Have you changed your mind about that?”
“No; I haven’t; but I think I can guess why he lied. I believe that at the beginning he wasn’t sure his old man wasn’t trying to pull a fast one. In his confused way Jerry was attempting to take the blame if it later appeared that the old fellow was going to be in trouble. This is only a surmise.” Fenner settled his hat on his head and picked up his umbrella.
“You’re not going?” Hanley asked.
“I am indeed.”
“But the meeting—it’ll be within an hour or less. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable here? Then you won’t have to come back. Look; it’s still raining like the very devil out.”
“Who said anything about coming back?”
“But the Board will want to thank you.”
“Nonsense! The $180,000 involved in this case is considerably less than the bank’s average commission on the smallest security issue they underwrite, or most other deals they put over. It’s chicken feed! Why should they bother?”
“Well, a great deal of human interest attaches to this sort of thing. They’ll all be anxious to see you and glad to meet you.”
Fenner thought a minute, then shook his head slowly as he said: “No. No, for two reasons. In the first place, I abhor obsequies—post mortems of any kind; in the second place I don’t relish the thought of being an object of curiosity, even though my method of making a livelihood is perhaps a little more glamorous than some others. Nope! You give the Board my felicitations and deep regrets.
“Besides, this case is not over yet. You’ve got your money back but Borden is not convicted—which reminds me of something—“ He reached for the telephone and called the hospital and inquired regarding the condition of Mr. Morton. Presently he hung up and smiled at Hanley. “Patient improved and doing nicely,” he quoted sententiously. “That means he probably isn’t any worse. I can’t quite decide whether his recovery will make things harder or easier for Borden. You know, there’s still a lot in this case that doesn’t meet the eye. I’ll be glad when Morton can talk.” He broke off. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I shall pop in on you in a day or two.”
“Very well, if you insist. In the meantime, many thanks until you’re better paid.”
4
From Hanley’s office Fenner went directly to the building where Borden’s friend, Lowman, was employed, and up to his office. A boy at the door obligingly pointed out Lowman to him. Borden’s friend, like a dozen others in the large room, was busy over a drafting board. Fenner crossed the room and stood by the table until the man looked up, a celluloid triangle in one hand, a pencil poised in the other.
“Mr. Lowman, I believe?” Fenner smiled.
“That’s right. What can I do for you?” The question was put abruptly. Lowman obviously had no time for insurance agents or anything of the sort.
“You can tell me if you recall the number on the parcel check you returned to your friend, Philip Borden, just before noon today.”
The triangle dropped from Lowman’s hand, clattering to the table. The pencil he laid down slowly.
“Parcel check? What do you mean?”
“Just what I say—parcel check. Borden came up here and got it just before noon.” Fenner was coolly insistent.
“Why, I—See here; who are you, anyway? What’s the idea of coming in here this way and—”
“I’m from the police,” Fenner interrupted. “Would you rather answer one or two simple questions here or come down to the station and answer under oath?”
Several of the other men working at the adjoining tables were beginning to notice the altercation. Lowm
an glanced around; he whitened a little, taken aback at Fenner’s invitation.
“I’ll answer anything I can,” he said in a moment; “but what’s it all about?”
“You’ll find out in plenty of time. Now about the check—?”
“I’ve never seen any check or anything of the sort,” Lowman responded promptly.
“What was Borden’s errand here this morning?” Lowman looked away and rubbed his hand over his mouth thoughtfully.
“Why, we just talked about our plans for the weekend.”
“With the telephone systems perfected the way they are, Borden came four blocks through a drenching rain just to talk about your plans for the weekend? Remember; he only stayed about thirty seconds. Come again, only a little more plausible this time, please.”
Lowman countered with a question.
“Where is Borden? Why don’t you see him?”
“Borden is in jail without bail and likely to be there for some time. Nothing you can say or fail to say will alter that fact. The best way for you to stay out of trouble is to be perfectly frank with me. The truth always comes out eventually. Might as well have it now. What do you say?”
“I say I’ve never seen such a thing as the parcel check you speak of,” Lowman replied doggedly. “Then why was Borden here this morning?” Lowman hesitated a long moment; finally he cleared his throat and spoke:
“I gave him back a sealed envelope I’d been keeping for him; that’s all. I don’t know what it contained except it was bulky, like about a four or five page letter folded up.”
“Where did you get it and when?”
“Borden mailed it to me a week or so ago.”
“And you’ve no idea what it contained?”
“No; Borden said there were several papers which would be embarrassing if found on him but which he valued highly. He asked me to keep the whole business under my hat. I told him I wouldn’t say anything to anybody.”
“Don’t censure yourself. You’re acting wisely. You might have become an accessory after the fact without realizing it. That’s about all I want to know for now. I may ask you to confirm what I’ve told you at a later date. When I do, I’ll get in touch with you.” Fenner went out leaving Lowman half mystified, half astonished, and with a guilty suspicion that, in spite of himself, he had talked too much.
The Bank Vault Mystery Page 18
