“There he is! Running out to the street!”
Kemerson and the detective reached the escarpment just in time to see Vanuzzi and a woman disappear around the corner of the court.
“He’s making for Seventh Avenue,” said Cassidy. “He’ll grab a taxi or make for the subway. Get to the street quick, Mr. Kemerson. Maybe you can pick up his trail. I’ll stop at his apartment and ‘phone to the station to have a warning flashed over the city. We’ll have all the railroad stations and bridges and ferries covered.”
Luckily, the night elevator runner was not asleep. The janitor’s signal brought him to the top floor in the second elevator without delay. He said he had answered the bell but a few minutes before and taken Vanuzzi and a woman companion down from the ninth floor, from the apartment below Vanuzzi’s.
Kemerson and Blake reached Seventh Avenue in time to see a red taxi speeding north. Again fortune favored them: a yellow taxi was cruising along the avenue looking for a fare. Kemerson ordered the driver to try to overtake the cab which was speeding northward.
“If it’s the wrong taxi we are just out of luck,” said the actor.
By the time he had reached Twenty-third Street the occupant of the fleeing taxi knew that he was pursued; the driver made a sharp turn to the right towards Sixth Avenue, taking the corner on two wheels.
“It’s Vanuzzi all right,” said Kemerson, with grim satisfaction. “With so little traffic he’s going to have a hard time giving us the slip.” He ordered the driver to follow the red taxi. They saw it turn north on Sixth Avenue, but when they reached that thoroughfare it was nowhere in sight.
“Watch the streets running East,” said Kemerson. “I’ll watch on the West.”
Kemerson saw it on Twenty-fourth Street, speeding back to Seventh Avenue. A minute was lost in stopping their taxi and getting it headed in pursuit. Again on Seventh Avenue, they saw it swing back towards Sixth. Kemerson ordered the chauffeur to sound his siren as a warning to the police. They followed the vehicle on Twenty-eighth Street over to Fifth Avenue, and then back to Broadway on Thirty-second Street. There it swung north and they overtook it at Thirty-fourth Street just as a policeman brought it to a stop by firing a shot into a rear tire.
Vanuzzi got out of the taxi and surrendered without a struggle.
“It’s you again,” he said venomously to Kemerson. “Well, what do you want me for?”
“Is he Giulio Vanuzzi?” asked the policeman on the beat, and at Kemerson’s confirmation, took Vanuzzi’s arm. “You are wanted on suspicion of kidnapping. We just had a flash to be on the lookout for you.”
“A charge of suspicion of kidnapping is good enough to book him on,” said Kemerson. “Take him to the station.”
The policeman accompanied them to the station where Detective Cassidy put in an appearance within half an hour. He was soon followed by detectives from the District Attorney’s office who had the charge changed to that of first degree murder for the killing of Chadwick Morne.
Kemerson spent an hour questioning Vanuzzi, but if the prisoner knew anything of the kidnapping of Edith Vane he successfully concealed it.
“I know nothing about Miss Vane,” he said. “I have not seen her since she left the Silver Lark at Cleveland. Why should I want to kidnap a young woman who is practically a stranger to me? I have nothing against her.”
“Then why did you warn her to keep quiet about her experience on the Silver Lark if she valued her safety?”
“Who says I warned her? What proof have you that I warned her? That she did not make it up out of whole cloth?”
“You ask questions instead of answering them. That in itself is a proof. The ‘phone call has been traced to West Forty-ninth Street.”
“And I live in Greenwich Village.”
“But Kiyoshi Nimura has a room in that neighborhood; Kiyoshi Nimura whom you said was not Morne’s valet, but was Kentaro Kawatami. He told you that Morne had engaged passage on the Silver Lark. I have talked with him, and today he will appear before the District Attorney. You are in a hole, Vanuzzi, out of which you can’t talk yourself. You terrified Miss Vane on board the Silver Lark, had Kiyoshi warn her to keep quiet about what happened on the airplane; kidnapped her when you learned she had already visited the District Attorney; and attempted my life night before last in Chadwick Morne’s apartment.”
The last was a shot in the dark and Kemerson watched the Italian closely, hoping he would betray that it had hit home.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Vanuzzi, blandly.
“You are on the spot, Vanuzzi. The best thing you can do is to tell where Miss Vane is. That may mitigate your punishment.”
Vanuzzi again denied all knowledge of Miss Vane nor could Kemerson shake that denial. At eight o’clock he left the police station and was driven to a Broadway restaurant in the Times Square section where he ordered and ate a hearty breakfast.
As he left the restaurant the headlines in the first edition of the afternoon newspapers caught his eye and he bought a copy of the Evening World. He read the headlines and laughed aloud, startling the news-vendor by the mirthlessness of his laugh.
“TWO ARRESTS IN THE PARACHUTE MURDER CASE,” proclaimed the streamer, while the headline over the story read: “NEW YORK NIGHT CLUB OWNER AND OHIO FARMER ARRESTED FOR THE SAME CRIME.”
CHAPTER XVI — VIDA LATTERBY DECIDES TO TALK
THE newspapers carried scareheads over the arrest of Giulio Vanuzzi for the murder of Chadwick Morne, recounting his history and the fact that the dead actor had been a silent partner in the Happy Hours night club. The District Attorney’s office had evidently given out enough information to the press to justify the arrest of the Italian. Miss Vane’s sudden fright when Vanuzzi confronted her with such an ugly look on the airplane, the threat she had received over the telephone, were recounted publicly for the first time. Mrs. Delano’s account of the kidnapping was repeated.
As a “follow” to the arrest of Vanuzzi, under a Carlstown, O., date line, was an account of the arrest of Rolf Perkin, charged with the murder. Editorially, the newspapers were inclined to poke fun at the small town police. Yet, even though Perkin had stoutly maintained his innocence, a bit of evidence had been discovered which seemed to point to his guilt. A revolver had been found in a pasture not a quarter of a mile from where the body of the actor had landed. It was an army automatic .38, the same calibre as the gun with which Morne had been shot. It had been flung carelessly on the ground where the first chance passer-by would see it.
Kemerson could not make the guilt of Perkin fit in with the evidence he had discovered. The revolver might have been fired by Vanuzzi and hurled through the open door of the airplane. If Perkin had fired the mortal shot and then robbed the body he would have had cunning enough to conceal the gun.
Vanuzzi, if he were not innocent, had cleverly blocked every attempt to glean information” from him. He must have been infatuated with Vida Latterby, Kemerson thought, to have taken her back after she had left him for Morne. An interview with the young woman might throw some light on the quarrel between the two men. He called Mr. Brixton on the telephone.
“The time has come for an interview with Vida Latterby. She was with Vanuzzi last night in his apartment, and it’s possible she knows something about the kidnapping of Miss Vane. I suppose your men know where she can be found?”
“Dugan has interviewed her,” replied the District Attorney, “but he might as well not have questioned her for all the information he got. She is a very self-contained, calculating young woman. I’ll have her here at eleven o’clock if that suits you.”
“I’ll be there. You might have Dugan check up on Vanuzzi’s movements at the Happy Hours night club last night.”
“That has been done. Vanuzzi was there until half past two this morning. Have you any clue as to Miss Vane?”
“None at all. I am in hopes the Latterby woman may be of help to us there. Vanuzzi may have told her enough to give’ us some clu
e to work on—if it is not already too late.”
“The Commissioner has assigned twenty detectives and a large force of uniformed men to search for her. It would be a pity if she has suffered Morne’s fate for merely trying to help the cause of justice. That is the nerve-wracking part of this job, Kirk—to know that an innocent person is in peril and find my hands tied, unable to do a thing to prevent a horrible crime.”
Kemerson knew from Brixton’s words and from his sad voice how much he was worried over the fate of Miss Vane.
At Kemerson’s suggestion, Blake had gone with Detective Cassidy to question Archibald Horner from whose apartment Miss Vane had been kidnapped, the janitor of the building and any of the tenants who might have overheard something. The actor went home to snatch an hour or two of sleep. He had been up all night and it appeared more than likely that he would get no rest during the coming night. Kemerson was able to sleep at any hour of the day or night, an accomplishment he had acquired, he said, when he was a young actor playing the one night stands. No one would have believed from his appearance, when he reached Mr. Brixton’s office, that he had had less than two hours’ sleep.
“The young woman is waiting and in a very bad temper,” said the District Attorney as he shook hands with the actor. “I am afraid we won’t gain much information from her. This telegram may be of more value to us than anything she would say.”
“An anonymous message?”
“It is signed by Arthur Layman.”
“Arthur Layman!” Kemerson sat up with renewed interest. “He was a passenger on the Silver Lark. What does he say?” He leaned forward eagerly, dancing lights in his eyes. Mr. Brixton took up a telegram from his desk.
“It was sent from Chicago at 9:30 this morning. It says: ‘Horribly shocked by kidnapping of Miss Vane. Believe the Italian night club owner should be investigated in this connection. Miss Vane appeared to be in great terror of him after Morne’s disappearance was discovered. Believe she found something in lavatory that implicates Italian in Morne’s death, for when she came back from it she was so white I feared she was going to faint. She started to tell the pilot about something she had observed but was shut up by a murderous look from the Italian. Tried to talk with her as she left the plane at Cleveland, but the Italian kept so close to her I could not succeed. I did search the lavatory and found a few drops of what looked like blood on a towel. Am convinced Vanuzzi is back of her kidnapping. Arthur Layman.”
“I have little doubt but that Vanuzzi kidnapped the girl,” said Kemerson. “Layman’s testimony bears out that of Miss Vane herself, and of Pilot Chase. The only workable theory is that he murdered Morne on the airplane and threw the body overboard.”
“And the open parachute?” asked Mr. Brixton.
“Morne, finding that Vanuzzi knew of his projected publicity leap, may have put it on in the lavatory, ready to jump, when Vanuzzi shot him, and retained consciousness long enough to pull the cord and open the parachute. Vanuzzi knew that Morne had engaged passage on the Silver Lark and intended to jump from it.”
“You are sure of that?”
“Absolutely,” and Kemerson told of the threat Kiyoshi had made against Morne at Kenkichi’s restaurant and the valet’s own admission of having told Vanuzzi that Morne was flying on the Silver Lark and for what purpose. “Kiyoshi agreed to come to your office for questioning today. So that he can’t give us the slip again I have had a detective assigned to watch him.”
“His testimony should strengthen our case against Vanuzzi,” said Brixton. “I will send a man to bring him in before we see Miss Latterby.” He gave the necessary instructions, sent for a stenographer and then had the young woman admitted. Detective Dugan was at her side.
Miss Latterby was a very striking young woman, with very blond hair, and with light blue eyes that were as cold as ice as she gave the District Attorney and the actor a baleful stare. Her figure was trim and lithe as a panther’s underneath the revealing velvet gown of Alice blue which she wore. A toque of the same material and shade gave a piquant touch to her small, well-molded face—a piquancy which was a part of her stock in trade. Blue suede shoes and the sheerest of flesh-colored silk stockings completed her outfit.
“You are Vida Latterby?” asked the District Attorney, impersonally.
“I am,” replied the woman, haughtily. “What do you want of me that you have me brought here by this unmannerly dick like a criminal?” She turned contemptuous eyes upon Dugan.
“Your friend, Giulio Vanuzzi, has been arrested for the murder of Chadwick Morne,” said Brixton. “What do you know about the quarrel between the two men that led to the tragedy?”
“Nothing!” snapped Miss Latterby.
“But you knew they had quarreled?” queried Kemerson, softly.
“Why should I know that?”
“Because you were the cause of the quarrel. Come, Miss Latterby, we know you were Vanuzzi’s ‘girl’ and that Morne got you away from him. That’s what made Vanuzzi so jealous that he booked passage on the Silver Lark and shot Morne.”
“If you know all that, why have you sent for me?”
“To find out from you the cause and extent of Vanuzzi’s hatred for Morne,” said the District Attorney.
“Then you are wasting your time. I know nothing—“ Kemerson interrupted. “I asked the District Attorney to send for you to give you an opportunity of clearing yourself of the charge of being an accessory to the murder of Chadwick Morne.”
The pallor that spread over Miss Latterby’s face was visible beneath her make-up. “Accessory!” she gasped. “You mean I helped him kill Mr. Morne?”
“That you knew beforehand that Vanuzzi had engaged passage on the Silver Lark for the purpose of murdering Morne, and did not inform the police; that you left Vanuzzi for the actor for the purpose of winning his confidence that you might betray him to his enemy. You found out that Morne was going to disappear from the Silver Lark en route to Chicago,” he continued, ignoring the surprised look on Brixton’s face, “and told Vanuzzi that there was his chance to commit the murder without leaving a trace.”
“That’s a lie! A whole pack of lies! “ cried Miss Latterby, her pale blue eyes flashing fire. “I left Giulio because I was sick of him and his stinginess—sick of his beastly...‘love’ he called it, of his acting as though he owned me body and soul—”
“Then why did you return to him after Morne’s murder?”
Miss Latterby looked about her as if seeking a means of escape, or hoping that help would come to her from some unexpected quarter, but met only the sneering smile of Detective Dugan.
“That has an ugly look, girlie,” said the detective. “Going back to the old lover just after the new one has been murdered.”
“That’s a lie!” repeated Miss Latterby, trying to put scorn and outrage into her voice, and not succeeding very well. She twisted her lips and her hands.
“It’s the truth, and you know it, and are afraid,” said Dugan, with a sly look of admiration at Kemerson.
“You were with Vanuzzi last night in his apartment,” continued Kemerson. “I saw you fleeing with him towards Seventh Avenue this morning. The janitor saw you in the building, heard Vanuzzi address you by name——”
“What do you want me to tell you?” asked Miss Latterby. “I did go back to him after Mr. Morne’s death. He was crazy about me—promised me anything I wanted.” Her surrender was complete. “I knew Giulio hated Mr. Morne—had sworn to kill him and me too, but I knew nothing about Mr. Morne’s publicity stunt. He told me he was going to fly to Chicago. I did not even know what airplane he was going to take. I did not see Giulio after I left him except once until two days ago when he begged me to go back to him.”
“You have seen him only once since you left him—when was that?”
“A week after I left him. I was waiting for the traffic light to change at Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street when he saw me and got into my taxicab. He asked me to leave Mr. Morne and go back to him.
When I refused he became abusive and threatened to kill both of us. I told him if he did not get out of the taxi I would. He got out then. ‘You’ve had your warning,’ he said, ‘and you can tell Chadwick Morne that includes him, too.’ I did not see Giulio again until day before yesterday.”
“Did Mr. Morne seem frightened when you told him of Vanuzzi’s threat?”
“He just laughed. He went to Giulio’s night club the next evening though I begged him not to.”
“What did he do there?” asked Mr. Brixton.
“I was afraid to go with him. He said he discussed business matters with Giulio, and that Giulio did not have the nerve to kill anybody.”
“Did Mr. Morne carry a gun after you told him of Vanuzzi’s threat?”
“He never carried a revolver. I don’t believe he ever owned one.”
Kemerson confronted her, drawing up his chair so close that he looked directly into her eyes, not a foot from his own.
“Did Mr. Morne ever say anything to you about a quarrel with his wife? A quarrel about you or anyone else—about a child?”
“Mr. Morne never mentioned his wife to me, nor anything about a child.”
“Did you ever see him show fear of anyone? Or hear him admit that he feared anyone?”
“He never said anything about it, but once I saw him show fear. We had stopped in front of Dalton’s restaurant and he got out and held the door open for me. But instead of helping me out, he got hurriedly back in. He was so pale that I could notice it by the light from a street lamp. I looked out. A large, bronzed man stood in front of the restaurant and stared at him. Mr. Morne ordered the driver to take us to another cafe. When I
asked him why he did not go into Dalton’s he did not answer. I was curious and asked who the big man was that had stared at him so. ‘Just a fellow I knew in France,’ he said——”
“In France?” asked Kemerson, quickly. “Did he mention the man’s name?”
The Parachute Murder Page 14