CHAPTER VIII
Julie Baxter
Richard Bates and the two detectives stood waiting for the alreadysummoned elevator to take them downstairs.
"You see," Gibbs was saying, "in nearly every investigation there'ssomebody who won't tell where he was at the time of the crime."
"I will tell that," exploded Bates, "only I won't tell where I wasthrough the evening, and, you know yourself, that has nothing to do withthe case."
"I know, and, nine times out of ten, it doesn't matter what the peoplewere doing who refuse to tell. But it might make a difference, and it'salways a bother to be worrying about it."
"Why worry?"
"Because it may pay. According to Corson's hunch, two of those choruschicks don't want to tell where they were at the time of the crime----"
"Oh, well, they wouldn't----"
"I know; but it's an uncertainty. Now, take your aunt. She falsifiedabout hearing your front door close just now. I've a full belief thatwas merely because of a piffling vanity about her deafness,--a thingnobody wants to admit,--but, I wish she hadn't, for it proves that sheis not above prevarication."
"I don't think she would fib in any serious matter," vouchsafed Richard.
"You don't think so because you don't want to think so. That can't cutany ice with me, you know."
The elevator stopped and the three went down.
In a business-like way, Gibbs rounded up all the girl employeesavailable and put them through a rigid investigation.
They were a voluble lot, and it was easier to get information than toprevent it.
Daisy Lee was among the most vindictive. Although a frail, pale littlething, she was full of indignation at the late Sir Herbert's ways, andexpressed herself without reserve.
"He was an old nuisance!" she averred; "he was free with his presentsand he was a gentleman,--I'll say that for him,--but he thought he couldpat any girl on her shoulder or even snatch a kiss, without making hermad. He made me so mad I wanted to kill him,--and I told him so, lots oftimes. I didn't, and there's no way I could have done it, so I am notafraid to say that I would have stabbed him myself if I'd had a goodchance!"
"You don't mean that, Miss Lee," said Gibbs, coolly, "and you're onlysaying it to make a sensation."
"Why, what a story!" and Daisy turned on him. "Well, that is, I don'tsuppose I really would have done the actual killing, but I'd have thewill to."
"Quite a different matter," said the detective, "and your will wouldhave fizzled out at the critical moment."
"Of course it would," put in Julie Baxter, the telephone girl. "Daisy'san awful bluffer. None of us girls would kill anybody. But one and allwe are glad to be rid of Sir Herbert, though I can't help being sorryhe's killed."
"You mean you'd have been glad to be rid of him in some more peaceablefashion?"
"That's exactly what I mean. He was insufferable----"
"In what way?"
"Not only, as Daisy says, because he had free manners, but he was silly,beside. Always saying, 'Well, little one, how do you like my newnecktie?' or some foolishness like that."
Richard Bates looked uncomfortable. "Need I stay?" he inquired. "Youmust realize I dislike to hear this talk about my uncle."
"Stay, please," returned Corson, briefly; "and, young ladies, don't giveus any more of your opinions of Sir Herbert, but tell, if you know, ofany circumstance bearing on his death."
Apparently none knew of any such, and the girls looked at each other insilence.
"And now, tell me where you were at two A. M., each of you, and then youmay be excused."
Every one declared that she had been home and in bed at that hour,except Julie Baxter. She, with a fine show of independence, refused todisclose her whereabouts at that time.
"There it is again," said Corson in despair. "Now, Miss Baxter, I don'tthink that your reticence necessarily incriminates you at all, but itleaves room for doubt. Take my word for it, it would be wiser and farbetter for you to tell frankly where you were, even if it calls forcriticism from your mates."
"But I won't tell," and Julie looked very stubborn.
"You'd rather be arrested and held on suspicion?"
"You can't arrest me without a speck of evidence! Nor you can't scare meby such threats."
"It isn't an idle threat, and you can be held for further inquiry, if Isay so."
"You won't say so, and anyway I won't say where I was last night. But Iwill say I was up to no harm, and had no hand in the death of SirHerbert Binney."
"I don't, as yet, think you did; but let me remark that if you _were_implicated in the matter you would act and speak just as you do now. Youwould, of course, asseverate your innocence----"
"Of course I should. So, now, Mr Smarty-Cat, what are you going to doabout it?"
Julie's eyes snapped with anger that seemed almost vicious, and shetossed her head independently, while the other girls showed little or nosympathy. She was not a favorite with her fellow-workers; they calledher stuck-up, and she not only refused to take them into her confidenceas to her amusements and entertainments, but she often whetted theircuriosity by mysterious hints of grand doings of which she never toldthem definitely.
She lived in herself during her hours on duty, and even in the rest roomshe was never chummy or chatty like the rest.
Wherefore, there were surprised glances and nodding heads in herdirection, and Daisy Lee sniffed openly.
"Huh," she said, "Julie Baxter, you're too smart. You were more friendlywith Sir Binney than any of us. He gave you twice the candy he did anyone else, and I know you've been out to dinner with him!"
"I have not!" declared Julie, but a flush on her cheeks and a quiver ofher eyelids left room for doubt as to her truthfulness.
"Also," and Corson flung this at her, "also, on the paper was written'get B-a-' and _also_, we've been told that the dying man tried toarticulate a name beginning with J!"
"Now, Miss Baxter, do you still deny all implication in the affair?"Gibbs leaned forward and stared into her eyes.
"I do!" she cried, but her voice was hysterical and her manner agitated.Vainly she strove to keep her self-control, but, unable to do so andbroke into a fit of uncontrollable weeping.
"Oh, I say, Corson," said tender-hearted Bates, "you oughtn't to bullyher! That's nothing short of third degree!"
"Well, I'll put it through, if I can get the truth that way. Now, MissBaxter, if you'll tell us, in your own self-defense where you were thatnight, you may go. If not, I think we'll have to ask you to go away withus to----"
"Don't take me away!" moaned Julie, "and don't ask me about last night!I didn't kill him--truly, I didn't!"
"But you know something about it,--you must be detained as a materialwitness----"
"Wait till I talk to somebody--ask somebody's advice----"
"She means Bob Moore," Daisy informed them; "they're engaged, andJulie'll say just what Bob tells her to."
"Oho! You're engaged to Moore, eh?" and Gibbs gazed at her with freshinterest.
And then, stepping from the door of the elevator, came Dorcas Everett,and Richard Bates lost all desire to hear further evidence from thequestioned girls.
With a brief but determined apology, he left the alcove, where they hadbeen talking, and hurried to Dorcas' side.
"Have you heard?" he said, as he fell into step and walked with hertoward the door.
"Yes; I can't talk here,--I can't breathe! Can we go for a walk?"
"Of course, why not?"
"I thought you were busy with those--people."
"Perhaps they think so, too, but I don't care! Come on; hasten yoursteps just a little and don't look back."
Apparently carelessly, but really with a feeling of stealth, the pairmade their way to the street, Bates feeling guiltily conscious of thedetectives' disapproval, and Dorcas afraid of her action being reportedto her mother.
"I've been waiting so to see you," she exclaimed, as soon as they wereat a safe distance from The Campanile.
"Do tell me all about it! Mymother has gone to call on your aunt,--and I thought I'd come down andsee if I could run across you. Mother'll be there some time, I've nodoubt, and I took a chance."
"Bless you! But, tell me, how did your mother hear? What do you know? Imean, what's the general report?"
"Nothing definite, but all sorts of rumors,--which mother tried to keepfrom me. But she and Kate were talking, and I found out that thechambermaid told them that woman had killed Sir Herbert. Mother told mehe had died suddenly, but she didn't know I overheard about the murder."
"Yes; it's true. He was murdered and he left a dying statement thatwomen did it. It's a horrible affair, and I wish you needn't know thedetails. Can't you go away or something till it is all past history?"
"Oh, I don't want to. I'm no child to be put to bed like that! ButMother has been urging me to go away,--and yesterday she said she'sgoing to move anyway. If she should send me to Auntie Fayre's--but shewon't----"
"If she should, what?" cried Richard, eagerly; "Do you mean that in thatcase, we might meet now and then?"
"Yes, that's what I meant,--but, we couldn't if this matter is publicproperty, and I suppose it is, or will be?"
"Yes, of course; but it can't last long. You see, dear, there's bound tobe an awful disclosure of some sort. Women don't kill a man without somebig reason,--at least big to them."
"But who did it? What women?"
"We don't know. The probabilities are that it was some girls he hadflirted with. Oh, Dork, don't ask questions; it's a disgraceful affair,I fear. I don't know,--if a man had done it, I should think it merelythe result of Uncle's wild temper. He was awful when in a rage. But thefeminine element makes only unpleasant theories possible. And yet, Unclewas a gentleman and a decent one. I believe it was the work of somewomen who had a fancied grievance and who were jealous or revengeful forsome foolish reason. But, of course, there's no telling what evidencewill turn up. And I must be prepared for embarrassing disclosures."
"You're the heir, aren't you, Rick?"
"So far as I know. Uncle made me that, but he may have changed his mind.His lawyers have his will, and I've made no inquiries as yet. You see,Dork, there's so much to see to. Why, I've got to take care of AuntLetty and Eliza,--I mean, shield them from publicity and reporters andall that. I've no business to sneak off here with you, but I couldn'thelp it!"
"But tell me this; what women are suspected? What ones are possiblesuspects?"
"Some chorus girls and the house girls, so far."
"House girls? You mean the elevator girls----"
"Yes, and telephone operators and perhaps chambermaids,--oh, Dorrie,Uncle Bin was the sort of a man who is jolly with any woman. I'm willingto bet there was never a really wrong idea in his head, but he was socarelessly gay and chummy with them all, that a vicious or wicked womancould play the devil with him!"
"Poor Sir Herbert,--I rather liked him."
"He liked you,--he said so. And he was in favor of our marriage, whichis more than we can say for any of our nearer relatives."
"Yes, indeed! Mother gets more and more wrathy about Miss Letty everyday of her life,--and I expect this matter will just about finish her!"
"I suppose so. Now, we must get back, for my reasons and your own good.When can I see you again?"
"Oh, I don't know. It all depends on the outcome of the present meetingof the two. If your aunt seems to want sympathy or help I daresay Motherwould feel kindly toward her in this trouble. But if Miss Letty isuppish and reserved,--as I fear she will be,--then Mother will go forher! I'm only imagining all this; I've no idea what will really happen."
Poor little Dorcas, it was well for her present peace of mind that shehadn't!
The two walked slowly back to The Campanile, almost forgetting thetragedy that had come so close to them, in the content of beingtogether.
Corson met them at the door.
"Been looking for you," he said to Bates. "And, Miss Everett, yourmother is inquiring where you are. She left word for you to go to herthe moment you appeared."
"Yes," Dorcas returned, and then, shyly, "Please don't say I was with MrBates, will you?"
Corson looked at her, with interest. Pretty Dorcas, her shy, brown eyesfalling at the idea of asking for secrecy, but her judgment, alreadytrained in diplomacy, telling her it was necessary.
"I won't," and Corson smiled at her, "if, you'll answer a question ortwo. Where were you last night at two o'clock?"
"In bed and asleep," said the girl simply.
"Thank goodness you don't refuse to tell! And at what time did youretire?"
"About eleven."
"And where had you spent the evening?"
"Oh, I say, Corson," and Bates interrupted, "that's in the class withyour grilling of me. You know Miss Everett isn't implicated, you knowyou're asking her that because you've got the habit. Run along, Dorcas,you don't have to be quizzed any more."
Dorcas turned quickly, and just managed to catch an up-bound elevator asits door was about to close.
"Now, you let her alone, Corson," said Bates, sharply. "I don't mindtelling you she's the girl I intend to marry, but we're not reallyengaged. That is, it isn't announced. And I ask you, as man to man, tosay nothing of it, to say nothing to her, and to keep her out of it allyou can. Lord knows, you've no reason to think of her in connection withthe horrible affair!"
"No; except as she's interested in you, and you're the heir."
"Forget it. Who told you I was the heir?"
"Everybody knows it,--it's in all the papers."
"I haven't looked at a paper! Lord, I don't think I can!"
"Better not; they're not pretty reading."
"What do you mean? Any aspersions against my uncle's character?"
"No, not that. But when the word women occurs in connection with themurder of a rich and influential man, there's bound to be surmise,--atleast."
"Oh, I suppose so. Well, do you want me down here? I'd like to go up tosee my aunt."
"Wait a minute. Have you ever thought, Mr Bates, that the feud betweenyour aunt and Mrs Everett is a mighty queer affair?"
"I've often thought that, but,--pardon me,--don't get outside your ownproper boundaries!"
"Oh, I'm not. Now, a queer thing, like that feud, has to be taken intoconsideration."
"Not in connection with the murder of my Uncle Binney."
"Maybe not in direct connection, but as a side light. You know the feudhas a decided bearing on your affair with Miss Everett."
"I object to your use of the word 'affair.' My friendship with MissEverett is in spite of, even in defiance of, the feud between her motherand my aunt. I make no secret of it to you, but as I advise you, thematter is confidential. I'm treating you as a fellow-man, Corson, and Idon't want you to abuse my confidence in your fellowship, oryour--manliness."
Corson fidgeted a little and returned, "I've got to do my duty, MrBates, and part of my duty seems to me to be to tell you that I'm notallowed to observe confidences if they affect my orders."
"They don't! How can your investigations of this murder case be affectedby my friendship for Miss Everett?"
"They can,--in a way. You see, I know a lot about this feud business. Iknow how inimical, how full of vicious hatred those two women are, andhave been for years. And I know how your recent special interest in MissEverett has roused the renewed anger of not only your aunt, but hermother----"
"Phew! You do know it all, don't you?"
"I do. Therefore, I felt I must inform you of the extent of myknowledge, so you and I can understand each other. Now, drop the subjectfor the moment, for I've other matters to speak of. Where do you supposethe weapon is?"
"I've not the slightest idea! How could I have?"
"Do you know what the weapon was?"
"Only what the doctor said, a very sharp knife of some sort."
"Yes; now did you know that the doctor has also said that the strokedelivered by that same sharp knife was so well planted, so skillfullydr
iven home, that it implies the work of some one with a knowledge ofanatomy?"
"A doctor?"
"Not necessarily,--unless a woman doctor. But, what other idea suggestsitself?"
"Oh, I don't know. Don't ask me riddles."
"A nurse, then. Can't you see the reasonableness of suspecting a trainednurse, after Dr Pagett's opinions?"
"All right; where's your trained nurse in Sir Herbert's bright galaxy ofbeauty?"
"That's a point to be looked up. But, I may tell you that Julie Baxterstudied nursing before she took up telephone work."
"H'm. Might be coincidence."
"Of course it _might_. But we have to investigate coincidences. Youdon't know of any nurse or ex-nurse in your uncle's circle of friends?"
"Friends seems to me an inappropriate word."
"Look here, Mr Bates, you let my choice of words alone, and answer myquestions."
"All right, I will. I don't know of any nurse at all and I shouldn'ttell you if I did!"
"Not a very wise remark on your part, Mr Bates," and Corson looked athim meaningly.
"I don't care whether it's wise or not. You make me disgusted withdetective work! Why do you go around sneaking up on any woman you canhear of? Why don't you go about it from the other side? Find a motivefor the murder and then find the criminal who had the motive! Don'tsuspect this one because she studied nursing and that one because theold gentleman kissed her! It isn't a unique case, my uncle's fancy forchorus girls,--but it by no means indicates the result of murder! Getthe weapon, then find its owner. Get a clue,--a real, material clue, andthen trace the criminal. Get some evidence,--actual, spoken orcircumstantial,--and deduce your facts from it. For heaven's sake, dosome real detective work, and not just dance around questioning anykiddy-girl you happen to see!"
"Your words are not without reason," and Corson gave Bates a peculiarsmile. "Indeed, I had some idea of doing just what you suggest. But oneof the first things to do in the hunt for evidence is to find out whereyour uncle was last night between twelve and two. You see, the people atthe Magnifique say he sent the girls home by themselves and then soonafter went off himself in the neighborhood of midnight. Next he's heardof at two A. M. dying on the floor of the onyx lobby! Where was he inthe meantime?"
"That's truly a most important question to be answered," said Richard,very seriously. "On that depends far more than on the frightenedadmissions or denials of a lot of excited young women."
"I quite agree with you," said the detective.
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