CHAPTER IV
THE SUSPECT
On reaching the offices, I at once sought an interview with the DistrictAttorney and found him expecting me. He had, of course, learned of thetragedy from police headquarters, and of my presence on the scene.
There was little I could tell him that he did not already know. Theinformation he had received, however, was but a meagre statement offacts and supplied no clue to the criminal.
"I suppose," he said, "it will prove an ordinary case of burglary andincidental murder, and I have no doubt the police will soon run downtheir man."
With this expectation I could not so readily agree, and told him so. Iexplained to him that while the disappearance of the money I knew tohave been on the table seemed to bear out his view, the absence of theulster showed something in the case that would have to be explained.
"Well, Dallas," he said, "I confess I don't see why the ulster shouldnot have been stolen as well as the money, and I doubt if we find thecase in any way unusual, but perhaps you are right. Suppose you takecharge of it for the office and follow it up!"
I could see he thought my connection with the matter, and friendshipwith White, was influencing my judgment, but as I was mainly anxious toobtain the commission he had voluntarily given me, I only replied thatvery likely it would prove so, and withdrew to my own office. Hereleaving other matters neglected, I sat down, and thought the case over.Could it be that the District Attorney was right and that I was tryingto make a mystery out of a commonplace crime; certainly his promptsuggestion that the ulster had also been stolen along with the money wasentirely likely and yet I could not satisfy myself that it was correct.
As I look back now I realize that it was the intuition of youth ratherthan the keen reasoning of an experienced lawyer that directed myjudgment at that stage. The facts as they were apparent at the timefurnished no sufficient ground for my conclusion and I was forced toadmit to myself that I must reserve my judgment, at least from publicexpression, till I had more light on the case.
My interest and impatience, however, would not allow me to await inidleness the Coroner's hearing the next day, and I determined,therefore, to go at once to Inspector Dalton's office, and learn fromthat department all that was known. On entering the Inspector's office,I found him in consultation with Detective Miles.
I knew both men well, having worked with them before, and recognized inthem conscientious officers of experience. The Inspector was a man ofabout sixty and somewhat pompous and dictatorial with the consciousnessof power, which he owed, nevertheless, mainly to "political pull."Miles, on the contrary, was a much younger man, and had attained to hisposition through good work. He was naturally keen and reticent, and wellfitted for his vocation, and he possessed besides a better educationthan the average man of his calling.
The Inspector, however, was little more than a machine, without muchoriginality, and he worked on the lines dictated by experience and withthe means and methods tried and available. In the latter respect ourpolice and detective departments are well equipped; also, they are welldisciplined, and systematized; but what both departments should have andrarely possess, are men of exceptional ability, training, and broadeducation at their heads to plan and direct the work of theirsubordinates.
The consultation in which they were engaged was interrupted upon myentrance and they waited for what I might have to say.
In response to my request for any additional information they mighthave, Miles reported fully on his investigations of the morning andthere were some newly disclosed facts of which I had not before beenaware.
I had been told, as I have said, that White had gone out after we hadleft him, but it now developed from the night-officer's story that Whitehad left the house a little after one o'clock wearing the plaid ulsterand cap and had gone rapidly west on the north side of the street. Hehad returned the salute of the officer who was on the opposite side ofthe street. What further direction White took the officer could not say,as he had not watched him. He did not see White return, but about halfan hour later when he was again approaching the house on his rounds hehad observed a man peering in at one of White's windows, where the shadewas slightly up, who, on finding himself observed, had walked away. Theofficer's suspicions were aroused, however, and he had returned to thescene again in a few minutes, and had then seen what appeared to be thesame man come out of the vestibule of White's house and hurry west,turning up Sixth Avenue.
He had followed him to this point, though no further, but had gotten afair view of him, and thought he could identify him by his clothing andwalk.
"And how about the plaid ulster," I asked; "did the man have it or anylarge bundle with him that might contain it?"
"No," the Inspector answered, "he was dressed in a light overcoat and abrown derby hat, and carried no bundle of any kind."
"Then, where is the ulster," I repeated.
"I don't know," he replied, I thought, somewhat testily.
"We have got to find that coat, nevertheless," I persisted.
"We will find it, sir; I'll promise that," said Miles; "that is, if ithas not been destroyed."
"Have you any idea," I asked, after a moment's reflection, "who was theman the night-officer saw?"
"Yes," said the Inspector, "we have an idea it may have been White'scousin, Winters."
"Henry Winters, do you mean?" I asked, startled.
"Yes," he said, "do you know him?"
I made no answer, but my thoughts went back to the old college days whenWinters was a bright-faced, merry boy, and we had been chums andinseparable companions. Since then he had gone from bad to worse till hehad become a social outcast, and we had drifted altogether apart, buteven thus I could not believe of him this awful charge. There must, Ifelt, be some mistake somewhere, and I asked, doubtfully, why theythought it was Winters.
"Because," the Inspector replied, "the officer had seen him come out ofWhite's house at night on other occasions and the man in this instancewas of about his size and appearance."
I said no more, but thought it looked a little black for poor Winters,whom the police were evidently still hunting.
After I left them I walked slowly uptown, reflecting upon the situationin the light of the Inspector's view of the case.
I was not disposed to altogether condemn police methods, for they weregenerally successful, if illogical, but I saw that in this case theywere pursuing their usual course of first determining who ought to bethe criminal and then securing the evidence to convict him; instead of,as seemed to me proper, developing first the evidence and reservingconclusions till it discovered the offender.
I thought the police method unfortunate, to say the least, for with thebest intentions the exercise of unprejudiced judgment and the fair useof evidence is made difficult where the case is "worked up" upon apreconceived theory that a particular individual has committed thecrime. It is extraordinary how in many such cases evidence is secured,and in good faith, that seems to bear out their theory and many littlethings that in themselves have no importance, when presented in thelight of the theory furnish circumstantial evidence in its support.These same little things are often hard to explain away too, becausethey had no purpose at the time and have no explanation; for each act ofa man deliberately done and with a purpose, there are a hundred thathave no conception, no purpose, and hardly consciousness.
Truly I saw a hard time ahead for poor Winters, who, without friends,money, or character, would have little chance against the machinery ofthe law; and with the warm impulse of youth I was inclined to become myold friend's champion while yet knowing almost nothing of the facts. Ihad condemned the police for premature judgment of the case and now,influenced by sympathy, I was near doing the same myself, unconscious ofthe inconsistency of my mental attitude. I would be more deliberateto-day; time has taught me the wisdom of going slow, but I hope it hasyet to teach me indifference to the troubles of others.
I had walked some distance thus absorbed in thought when I was sudden
lyrecalled to my surroundings by finding myself on Nineteenth Streetopposite White's house--following unconsciously the bent of my thoughts,I had taken that route home. I was about to hurry on, having no desireto linger on the scene, when my attention was attracted to a man leaningdejectedly against the railing of the steps. On a closer look Irecognized Winters and with a pang of regret saw that he wore a lightcoat and derby hat such as described by the night-officer.
After some hesitation, I crossed over and spoke to him. He stared at mefor a moment in a half-dazed way, and then recognized me indifferently.He looked wretched; his clothes were soiled and threadbare, his facehaggard, and his eyes bloodshot with drink and lack of sleep; he seemeda being utterly hopeless and lost to manhood. Before I could collectmyself to speak to him, he had relapsed again into his stupor and hadapparently forgotten my presence.
Anxious, nevertheless, to learn something from him of himself, and tohelp him if possible, I asked him if he knew his cousin was dead. Henodded an assent without looking at me. I then told him that he had beenmurdered, to which he only answered:
"So they say."
"Have you been in to see him?" I continued.
He said, "No," and then added bitterly: "Why should I wish to see him?Have I not troubles enough of my own?"
I abandoned my efforts to talk with him, for it was evidently useless,and as there seemed nothing I could do for him, continued on my way.
As I reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, I recognized a detectivestanding idly by the curb. Already the shadow of trouble was over thewretched man. I could not help him now, however, it must be later, if atall, and I passed on.
A Master Hand: The Story of a Crime Page 4