Obelists Fly High

by C. Daly King

  He glanced across the parallel columns lining the page. Somewhere he must find someone who could be brought to admit he had seen her during the crucial period. Pons? No. Bellowes or Didenot? It didn’t look likely, and then he saw something that almost made him jump out of his seat. By God, that was it! That was the one chance, not only of raising reasonable doubt, but of –

  The cockpit door was quietly opened and Lovett’s low voice called down the cabin. ‘Margy, we’re landing. Salt Lake City. See the belts are all right, will you?’

  4250 FEET

  Lord was down the aisle before the transport had come to a full stop. He bent over Isa Mann, who was still awake.

  ‘Something I forgot to ask you. When you went from the ’plane across the field to the house, did you walk right across? I mean, did you stop at all or turn around or drop anything?’

  ‘No, I walked straight across.’

  ‘You didn’t at any time bend down to pick anything up, for instance, from the ground? Please think carefully; you must be absolutely sure.’

  ‘Of course I’m sure,’ said Isa. ‘I walked right across without any stops at all.’

  Lord sighed excitedly and hurried back to the cabin door without another word. Isa, screwing herself around on her chair, watched him with surprise in her face as he unlocked it and jumped to the ground. The senior pilot was already coming back through the cabin.

  The three walked toward the Amalgamated Air Transport building, Lannings, Lord and Marjorie Gavin. Behind them a field attendant stood guard before the locked door of the cabin while mechanics swarmed over the motors and wings, refuelling the ’plane, checking the controls in the glare of the airport lights. Lovett, too, had instructions to let no one leave the cabin. The time was 3.33 a.m.

  A police sergeant lounged in the entrance of the buildings, smoking a cigar whose aroma matched its frayed and unhappy appearance. To him Lord gave a small object wrapped in one of the sheets torn from his notebook. ‘You’ll have to get someone up at the hospital, or rout out one of your own men. It’s important; I must have a report within an hour or so at the most. Bring the report out here to Amalgamated, and they’ll send it to me. Got it?’

  The sergeant put the little package carefully in his pocket. ‘Yes, sir. We’ll get it for you.’ He saluted and strode out to the police car waiting for him beside the main entrance.

  ‘Now,’ said Lord, ‘I want to go to the Control Room.’ Together with Lannings he mounted the stairs and came into the room at the top of the building where the night staff of dispatchers and weather men sat at their desks, the Teletype machines clicking busily away beside them.

  While Lannings scanned the weather maps and looked over the latest reports from farther west, Lord addressed himself to the chief dispatcher. ‘I want to get in touch with the field keeper at Medicine Bow,’ he explained. ‘I have a number of questions to ask him.’

  ‘Telephone’s best, then. I’ll get him for you. Wait a minute.’ The dispatcher reached over and took up one of the ’phones beside him on his desk. After a short interval he extended the instrument to Lord. ‘Here he is. Sounds a little sleepy.’

  ‘Ginty, this is Captain Lord speaking from Salt Lake City. On 90. You remember who I am?’

  …

  ‘Yes, Captain Lord, the detective.’

  …

  ‘You will remember, Ginty, that you went into your room with Lannings, the pilot, when he sent a message off for me on your Teletype. Do you remember that?’

  …

  ‘And while you were there you looked out the window and saw a woman on the field. Now, was that woman good-looking or homely, was she a blonde or a brunette?’

  …

  ‘Well, I didn’t really expect you could tell, through the snow, but she was close enough to the house so that you could see her without any question?’

  …

  ‘Fine. Now tell me this: When you were watching her, was she walking toward the house or was she standing still? Did you see her bend over toward the ground as if she had dropped something or as if she were picking anything up?’

  ‘Now listen here, Ginty, this is far more important then you think. You are certain she was bending over and searching for something on the ground. You will swear to that or make out an affidavit to that effect?’

  …

  ‘That’s all, then, Ginty, and thank you plenty. That evidence is just what I was looking for.’

  Lord got up from the desk, over the side of which he had thrown a leg while talking into the ’phone. His expression, intent and strained at first, had cleared as the conversation progressed. Now, as he handed the instrument back to the dispatcher, his face broke into an elated grin.

  ‘And right there,’ he told the room at large, ‘is one of the best and tightest little alibis that was ever sworn to. No one will break that down. I’m telling you.’ He lit a cigarette and walking across to Lannings, slapped him heartily on the back.

  ‘Well, old boy, how does she look? Are we off to Reno?’

  Part V – Explanation

  7200 FEET

  High above the waters of the Great Salt Lake the transport swung through a sky that still was only partially clear. The highest ranges, the most difficult part of the ocean-to-ocean flight, had been passed, but other great mountains bulged from the desolate land ahead, Pilot Peak, Mount Lewis, Mount Moses, Battle Mountain and Sonoma Peak. Between them the line of airway beacons threaded a sparkling path for the ’plane. From Elko, half-way on the Reno hop, came reports of low temperatures and the likelihood of occasional squalls but the ceilings had been reported satisfactory, at least as far as their next stop.

  Several of the passengers had wakened at Salt Lake City, but now, with the resumption of the flight, they had settled back in their reclining chairs and dim quiet once more pervaded the cabin. Of all of them only Dr Pons had elected not to return to slumber; his short nap had greatly refreshed him and he felt no desire for further sleep. At the rear of the darkened cabin he again sat next to the detective on one of the camp stools. The feeling of motionless isolation crept up once more as they conversed in low voices three thousand feet above the resting earth.

  The psychologist had not failed to remark Lord’s rejuvenated appearance when he had entered the cabin just before the take-off. The detective seemed almost jubilant and his air, as he had mounted the accommodation steps beside the ’plane, suggested jauntiness rather than fatigue. Nor had Pons long to wait to discover the cause of the transformation. No sooner had the transport settled into its steady flight after climbing away from the airport than Lord had confided his new finding.

  Dr Pons was not immediately convinced. He said, ‘That’s all right, but any alibi at such a time and under the conditions that obtained must be largely guesswork. It’s not as if it really could be accurately checked, and the other points are – ’

  ‘No, doctor, you are wrong. Fonda Mann simply cannot have committed the murder. Here, take a look at her schedule and let me show you how it is checked.’ He spread out his chart and directed Pons’ attention to the elements in question. ‘She got up from her seat at 8.32 and left the cabin at 8.33. The – ’

  ‘And right there,’ Pons interrupted, ‘you’re beginning to guess. You don’t actually know that it was 8.33 when she left.’

  ‘I don’t know that it was exactly 8.33,’ Lord admitted freely, ‘but consider the position. If she left later than that, it is entirely in her favour, so the question really is, did she leave earlier? I submit that that is impossible. We know she didn’t jump up the moment the ’plane stopped and as a matter of fact Isa, who didn’t either, will testify that Fonda came down the aisle after her. Moreover, no less than five persons had left the cabin before she did, as the stewardess’s evidence, along with their own, shows. These five were myself, the two pilots, Craven and Tinkham. None of us left together (except the pilots), and most of us were so far separated that we did not even see any of the others. Fonda was the sixth person
to leave and it is obvious that 8.32 or 8.33 was the earliest time she could have done so.

  ‘Now at 8.36 a woman approached the house and was seen by the field keeper through his office window. Originally I put this woman down as Isa, but I have telephoned the keeper from Salt Lake City and he positively identifies her as Fonda. Without going into it, I can tell you that Fonda’s testimony, Isa’s and the keeper’s so match as to make this identification certain; also, it agrees with Fonda’s own story. But if she left the ’plane at 8.33 and was close to the house at 8.36 – and that minute is definitely set by the Teletype machine – it is certain that in those three or four minutes she could not have been around to the port side of the ’plane, hit me down and murdered Cutter. It is true the criminal didn’t need much time for the crime, but two minutes at least must have been used up. That would give her only one minute to reach the house, to say nothing of the trip around the ’plane and back.

  ‘As to her having done the crime after she approached the house, that is out, too. I was hit at 8.34 at the latest, and she was still near the house at 8.37, hunting for her scarf in the snow. She says she then returned to the ’plane, and Marjorie Gavin confirms her return at 8.40, which would be just about right . . . She’s out, doctor; she’s out of this case for good.’

  Pons took the chart and held it close to his face in the meagre light. He grunted as he followed out the minutes of Fonda’s movements and checked them as the detective had done already. Finally he pronounced, ‘Well –ugh — if this really checks — Just the same, Michael, I’m certain about the motive in this case. It is foolish to doubt that Amos Cutter’s jealousy is at the bottom of his death. He’s been asking for it for years. If you let Fonda Mann out, where does that leave you?’

  Lord’s face sobered quickly. ‘It leaves me with about three hours in which to discover who killed Amos Cutter and in which I must also find the proof,’ he observed quietly . . . ‘and the only way to do it is to think. I examined the compartment at Salt Lake City with a floodlight. There is absolutely nothing in it to give any clue to the murderer. I am still hoping for some information from New York, but it hadn’t come in when we left the airport. It may not come in until too late.’

  ‘But nobody else had the motive,’ Pons objected. ‘Nobody, that is, who was with us, at that field. I’ve no doubt that there were others besides Mann with a motive, but certainly none of them had an opportunity. Mann is the only one directly connected with those on the ’plane, and the girl was his natural agent. Who else could be?’

  ‘Some one could be, that’s certain. Some one had this motive, if you’re right about it. Well, let’s see what we have. There are Isa, Craven and Tinkham. Did you know that Craven was a friend of Mann’s and very sympathetic to his cause?’

  ‘No,’ the psychologist admitted, ‘I didn’t. Of course that might make a difference. Still, it’s weak. I haven’t often heard of friends volunteering to do a murder for each other. You’ll have to keep sight of it, naturally, if that’s the case, but I should call it an outside possibility just now.’

  ‘He gave me a phoney theory of the crime. That Mann had killed his brother-in-law by “projection” from Africa.’

  ‘Yes, I heard part of it; but that was before any real crime had been committed. At that point I think both of you were trying to kid each other. You were asking him to point to a criminal when there wasn’t any and he thought it would be fun to give you an outlandish theory for your pains.’

  ‘By golly, I wonder if he had guessed the truth. It’s possible, you know, that he is the one who had an inkling Cutter wasn’t dead then. That would be real indication, for whoever killed him must have reasoned that he still needed killing, and at the field he amended his “projection” theory so as to make it fit the real crime. He rather went out of his way to do it, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘I still don’t see how he could have guessed,’ Pons replied. ‘I didn’t mean that he had, when I said he was fooling with you, but he’s still sticking to that stuff of his, eh? That will make a hot defence in court, if it ever goes so far.’

  ‘It holds me up,’ Lord confessed. I know it’s an important point, the way the criminal found out about my fake attack on Cutter, but I’m positive I hadn’t said a word to Craven that would put him on the track. I can’t think of any other way he could have suspected, either . . . Well, what about Tinkham?’

  ‘I can’t see it,’ Pons shook his head negatively. ‘Both the girls say he had nothing to do with the family, Fonda said she didn’t even think he had ever seen Anne. They’re opposed on enough things; when they’re in agreement, it’s fairly certain they are right. At any rate, it’s all there is to go on, so it will have to be accepted.’

  ‘There’s the chance of professional antagonism. In the research game.’

  ‘A big surgeon and his disciple? I should doubt it, but, of course, I don’t know. On the other hand such a motive is insignificant in comparison with this divorce thing. I’ve seen a good deal of professional rivalry and sometimes it gets pretty fiery, but, except in a most unusual case, the emotions springing from such a source will not be nearly as strong as the love and jealousy ones.’

  ‘All right. The only other person without an alibi is Isa. It has to be one of those three. It’s time I looked over Isa’s movements again, at that. If she wasn’t the woman seen by the keeper through the window, there is no check of any kind for her story.’

  ‘But Isa,’ Pons pointed out, ‘was Cutter’s chief confederate in the family.’

  ‘How do you know she was?’

  ‘Why, that’s the whole set-up as I got it.’

  ‘Sure; and you got it from Isa. So did I, to tell the truth. Now that I think of it, I didn’t get any confirmation from Fonda on that, because I never asked her about it. In view of what you had told me, it seemed to be all fitting together properly; but Isa is no simpleton. What if she has been painting the picture for the very purpose of avoiding any possible suspicions?’

  ‘You can find out any time you want by asking Fonda. From my analysis of her, though, I think she was his ally.’

  ‘Maybe so; but it’s high time to see where the keeper’s evidence puts her.’ Lord bent over his paper again and for a little time there was silence as he followed his notations, not only up and down, but horizontally also, across the chart. When he finally looked up and hitched his chair over closer to the psychologist’s, there was a new note of doubt in his voice.

  ‘See here, doctor,’ he sketched out with his pencil the points of his reasoning as he proceeded, ‘this is beginning to look more than a little funny. That girl’s story is pretty well shot to pieces by what has turned up; I expected it might need a bit of amendment, but there’s nothing left of it now to be amended.’

  ‘That’s interesting, if you’re right.’ Pons bent down in turn and his eyes scanned the sheet on Lord’s knee.

  The detective went on, ‘Just look what she told me. That she got up at 8.29 and was out on the field at 8.30 or 8.31, to start off with. Now that’s simply impossible, because – ’

  Lord’s voice ceased with the approach of the junior pilot. Lovett had quietly opened the cockpit door and was coming down the aisle toward them. As he drew nearer, it was to be seen that he brought a lengthy memorandum with him in his hand. He lost no time in addressing the detective.

  ‘I want to get back to the cockpit,’ he said rapidly. ‘On a night hop both of us should be there all the time, but I thought I had better bring this back to you myself.’

  ‘It’s a pretty long stretch for you boys, isn’t it?’ Lord inquired. ‘I thought you would probably leave us at the last stop.’

  ‘We should have, ordinarily; but when we were forced down at Medicine Bow, they let the relief pilots go and, rather than wait for them, we are going through to Reno.’

  ‘Well, let’s see what you’ve got there. A message for me, I take it?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Lovett confided. ‘It came into Salt L
ake City from New York just after we had taken off. They sent it along over the air. The thing is, it’s in code. I checked it back twice with the Control Room, but I thought I’d better let you see if it looks all right; it’s just a mess to me.’

  Lord ran his eye along the lines of jumbled letters and numerals on the paper the pilot handed him. The signature, although likewise in code, told him that Felix, Dar-row’s secretary, had sent it out; that young man, he thought, is up pretty late. He said, ‘Well, I can’t tell, of course, until I’ve decoded it. So far as I can see now, it’s O.K.. If I get in a jam with it, I suppose we can check it back again with Salt Lake City?’

  ‘Sure. Maybe we can get it out on the tape, if it’s important enough. I’ll get up forward, then. Let me know if you need anything else.’ Lovett left them and the little cockpit door, with its momentary glimpse of the green-dotted instrument panel, closed after him a moment later.

  Lord moved up to a rear seat where he turned on the individual reading light and bent to his task. The dim bulb above the lavatory door was not sufficient for his work of transcribing the coded message. Dr Pons got up and stretched, but apparently decided against returning to his own chair farther forward. He sat down again on his camp stool and presently, to the monotonous drone of the ’plane through the air, commenced to nod.

  Gradually, under the detective’s pencil, the words from New York were taking shape. Several times he hesitated, eventually transposing a letter here or there which almost surely had been changed from its proper place in transmission to the ’plane. At the end of fifteen minutes he had the message before him.

  ‘Your advice Medicine Bow,’ it read. ‘Arrest criminal all costs. G-2 reports Craven British agent Near East during war. Believed resigned 1920. Vivisection: President A.M.S. alleges Cutter strong opponent vivisection extension; planned leading fight convention this year. Draft his address recently missing. Restrained by President from making accusation vivisectionists because scandal lack proof. Tinkham not suspected by Cutter although strong vivisectionist but without comparable influence. Checking further morning. Isa Mann injured girl quarrel Greenwich Village last year. No other items party.’