The Casebook of Sidney Zoom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  “And I thought it was strange at the time, sir, and went so far as to mention the matter to the housekeeper, sir. She told me that they had a secret arrangement by which she was to share in the commission in the event a sale was made.

  “The book agent was back here three times after that, sir. The last time was this afternoon. But I don’t think he saw Mr. Goldfinch, sir, not this afternoon. I know he was talking with Mrs. Barker. Of course, sir, you will understand that us servants sometimes have our little commissions, sir, so I thought nothing of the matter.”

  Brazer grunted.

  “This the first time you’ve told any one about that guy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why,” asked Jack Hargrave, “did you not say anything about it before?”

  “Because it slipped my mind, sirs.”

  Brazer cleared his throat.

  “What sort of a looking chap was this book agent?”

  “Five feet nine, a hundred and eighty-five pounds, about forty-one or two years of age, dressed in a pin-striped suit. He had gray eyes, and a funny way of talking out of one side of his mouth, sir. He had a funny habit of reaching up with his right hand and rubbing the lobe of his right ear, I remember that well, sir.”

  Brazer whistled. “Whew,” he said, “that’s the description of Shorty Relavan. I remember now the dope that came out on him. He had that habit of tugging at his ear when he was excited. Gosh, what a break! We’ve got the higher up located right at the start. And we’ve got the housekeeper. This ties her in so tight she won’t never get out. All the slick lawyers in the world won’t never pry her loose.”

  Jack Hargrave glanced at Sidney Zoom. His eyes were glittering with concentration. Sidney Zoom’s lips twisted, just a trifle.

  “Where else,” asked Sidney Zoom, “did you find the latents of this Relavan?”

  “In the kitchen, on some of the knives. Not on the murder knife,” said Hargrave.

  Brazer thrust out his chest.

  “Well,” he said, “I’m in charge of the case. I’m goin’ to telephone headquarters and tell ’em of the new developments.”

  Jack Hargrave grinned at Brazer.

  “How much credit do I get?” he asked.

  Brazer grunted. “I’m in charge.”

  Hargrave nodded, wordlessly.

  “I,” remarked Sidney Zoom, “would like to check up on this dodger of Robert Reelen. Do you suppose, Mr. Hargrave, you could drive me to headquarters and go over the records? And it might be well to take Mr. Madison, the butler, with us, so that we can have him check over the photographs of Shorty Relavan.”

  The eyes of Sidney Zoom met with those of Jack Hargrave and locked there for one long moment.

  Hargrave smiled. “Okay,” he said.

  Phil Brazer scratched his head meditatively.

  “Yeah. I’m in charge here. You guys get out and let me think this thing out. It’s red hot, all right.”

  The butler dressed, in company with Zoom and Hargrave they drove to police headquarters in utter silence. Hargrave led them to the presence of Sergeant Huntington.

  “Understand Brazer’s in charge of the Goldfinch case.”

  “Yes. Orders came through. Sergeant Gilfillan was working on it. You were under him. They switched it to the special duty department and ordered Gilfillan to lay off.”

  Hargrave nodded, “Is that notification official?”

  Sergeant Huntington studied him long and earnestly.

  “No,” he said, “it’s not official.”

  Hargrave turned to the man at his side.

  “Shorty Relavan, alias Arthur Madison, I arrest you for the murder of Jacob Goldfinch, and warn you that anything you may say will be used against you.”

  Sidney Zoom heaved a sigh.

  “I was hoping,” he said, “that you would do that.”

  Chapter VI

  The Butler’s Confession

  The man who had acted as butler, his face the color of chalk, made two efforts to speak, but only succeeded in making weird throat noises.

  Sergeant Huntington whistled softly, under his breath.

  The butler cleared his throat.

  “All right, you got me. I went after the sparklers. I got the job with Goldfinch hoping to find out where he kept ’em. I couldn’t get the lay so I asked the housekeeper if she knew. She told me to get a market for the stones and she’d produce ’em.

  “I told her the name of a fence. Then she crossed me. She went ahead on her own, pulled the thing without my knowing anything about it, and the old man caught her. They had a struggle. She had taken a butcher knife from the kitchen, and she croaked him. She admitted it to me right after the crime.”

  Sergeant Huntington looked at Jack Hargrave, a light of admiration in his eyes.

  “Jack,” he said softly, “where did you leave Phil Brazer?”

  Hargrave grinned. “Out at the house, waiting for something to turn up.”

  “How did you know this was Relavan?”

  “Simple. His finger-prints were all over the job. A man like Relavan wouldn’t have left any prints unless he couldn’t have helped himself. If he’d been going there once, or even twice or three times he’d have worn gloves.

  “Then, again, when this man suddenly recollected how the book agent had pulled the lobe of his ear, I knew we had him. An old-timer like Relavan would have changed a habit like pulling at an ear as soon as he knew the police were using it as something to twig him by.”

  Relavan shrugged his shoulders.

  “Right,” he said, with a grimace. “Boy, they must have been gettin’ a new class of dicks since I got out of stir!”

  Hargrave turned on him. “What did you go to Goldfinch for, the diamonds?”

  “No,” said Relavan, “I didn’t. I don’t know that I was going straight, but I wanted to lay low. I applied for half a dozen jobs, all on forged references. This guy, Slacker, that runs things for Goldfinch, took a shine to me. He’s a square shooter, too. He knew my references were forged, found that out before he hired me; but he hired me anyway. That is, he got Goldfinch to do it. Goldfinch’d do everything Slacker told him to.”

  Sergeant Huntington jabbed an accusing forefinger at Relavan.

  “We’re going to search your room out there at the house. You’ve got diamonds in it?”

  Relavan shrugged. “Four or five small ones the housekeeper overlooked when she cleaned up the place.”

  The sergeant nodded. “Thought so. Book him, Jack”

  The detective escorted his prisoner from the room. The first trickle of drab dawn percolated through the window. The sergeant grinned at Sidney Zoom.

  That individual produced the dodger, describing Robert Reelen, alias Sid Whalen, alias Charles Gillen. “Can you find me his record?” he asked.

  Sergeant Huntington took the dodger carelessly, jabbed his forefinger on a button. A man thrust his head into the room, caught the sergeant’s beckoning finger and entered.

  “Take this up to the Identification Bureau. Get me the dope on it right away.”

  The man vanished.

  “Could we talk with the housekeeper?” asked Zoom.

  Sergeant Huntington stared at him.

  “What’s the matter? Think this case isn’t solved yet?”

  Zoom took a cigarette from his pocket case, lit it deliberately.

  “Your men arrested a girl in a pawnshop. I’m interested in her. I don’t think she’s guilty.”

  The grin on Sergeant Huntington’s face was wide.

  “Oh, her! Myrtle Crane her name was. Booked already, bail fixed at ten thousand cash, twenty thousand bond. Maybe she’s telling the truth. I’ll let you talk to the housekeeper.”

  He jabbed the button once more, gave orders that Sally Barker was to be awakened, brought in. There followed an interval of silence. After it had lasted for minutes Jack Hargrave came back. He was grinning.

  “Notified Phil Brazer over the phone. You should have heard him.”


  Sergeant Huntington chuckled.

  There was a knock at the door. A man walking swiftly upon rubber heels came to Sergeant Huntington’s desk. He bent over, whispered. There was a rustle of paper, a grunt of wonder from Sergeant Huntington.

  “Listen, you fellows,” he said. “This dodger is a fake. It was printed on a hand press somewhere. The boys can’t find anything on this guy or his record, nor did we get any such dodger.”

  Hargrave pulled his forehead into a frown.

  “Well,” he said, “what’s the answer?”

  Sergeant Huntington looked at Sidney Zoom.

  At that moment there was another knock and the door swung open. A heavy set matron, dad in black, her face expressionless, led a slender woman with deep, lackluster black eyes into the room.

  “Sit down, Mrs. Barker,” said Sergeant Huntington.

  The woman folded herself into angular compliance, arranged her skirts so that they were smooth across the knees, raised her black, lackluster eyes and spoke in a drab tone of utter listlessness.

  “I can’t tell you nothing more. You don’t believe me, anyway.”

  Sergeant Huntington cleared his throat, leaned forward until the old swivel chair creaked under his shifting weight.

  “All right. This’ll jar you loose from some conversation. Arthur Madison, the butler, was Shortly Relavan, the noted gem thief and ex-convict. He’s confessed. How do you feel about that?”

  The woman’s face remained a drab mask. The thin hand with the blue veins and raised tendons, showed just a trace of nervousness as it smoothed over the skirt once more. But the voice was the same as ever, a monotone of comment.

  “Fancy me working with an ex-convict!”

  Jack Hargrave slammed a remark at her.

  “Ain’t you interested in what he said?”

  Her voice was in the same even, uninterested tone.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said you killed Goldfinch.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “How did you get the diamonds?”

  “I’ve told you. You won’t believe me. Mr. Goldfinch told me he’d tom up his will. He gave me those stones in case anything should happen to him. I was to pawn them and get the money.”

  Sergeant Huntington squirmed forward to the very edge of his chair. His big fist banged on the desk. His expression showed that he was going to make one last determined effort to browbeat the truth from the woman.

  Sidney Zoom stepped forward, his long arm picked up the dodger which had been left on the desk, the one containing the picture of Robert Reelen. He whirled, extended the paper toward the woman.

  “Know him?” he asked.

  The lackluster eyes flickered to the paper. For a swift instant there was an expression of surprise. Then it vanished.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Well?” asked Sidney Zoom.

  “He used to come to the house. I think he sold diamonds. His name was Charles Gillen. He hadn’t come for a while. I thought he was a smuggler, maybe.”

  Sergeant Huntington brushed aside the matter of the dodger.

  “I want,” he said slowly and impressively, banging his fist upon the desk as he spoke each word, “to get the rest of those diamonds. Tell — me — where — they — are!”

  The woman’s hand, sliding over the smooth surface of her skirt, gave a convulsive clutch at the cloth. It was but a momentary tightening of the fingers. Then the hand relaxed and the lackluster eyes were raised to the glittering eyes of the sergeant.

  “I’ve told you all I know.”

  Sidney Zoom got to his feet.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I’ve work to do.”

  His long legs gained the door in four strides.

  The two men watched him with eyes that were wide with surprise. Sidney Zoom’s hand tightened upon the knob of the door, spun it. He pulled it open and vanished into the corridor without so much as a backward glance.

  The door slammed shut and the two men looked at each other. Then they looked at the slender figure in the chair. She raised her deep-set, unsparkling eyes, lowered them almost at once. The fingers of her right hand clutched at the cloth of her dress.

  Chapter VII

  Zoom Visits an Office

  Sidney Zoom paused before a door on the seventh floor of a down town office building. Rip, his police dog, stood at his side, tail waving softly to and fro.

  Sidney Zoom tried the lock with a key, failed, tried again. The third key clicked back the catch and Sidney Zoom entered the office.

  Dawn had tinged the skyline of the city with a ruddy glow. Already the streets were commencing to rumble with the first signs of traffic, yet it would be some time before the office workers would throng into the business district.

  The office air was stale after the freshness of the dawn. It assailed the nostrils as some foul poison, and Sidney Zoom’s lip curled with disgust as he inhaled. But he mastered his disgust and set to work.

  The office was a single room affair, and it was a litter of odds and ends. Dusty papers were piled in confusion. A desk was grimed with dust, covered with old correspondence. A pile of newspapers was in one comer of the room. A closet offered storage space for some old coats, a dust covered hat, an umbrella and a box filled with an assortment of letters.

  Sidney Zoom set to work.

  He uncovered the typewriter which stood upon a little stand, took a sheet of paper and began to write. His words were purely specimen words. Then he struck off the letters of the alphabet, writing each one several times.

  When he had finished with that sheet he took another and did the same thing. Then he left the typewriter uncovered, left the sheets beside it.

  Next Sidney Zoom did a strange thing.

  He took from a hand bag he had brought with him, a large package of cheesecloth and a can of floor polish. He stooped to the linoleum and began to scrub the liquid polish upon the linoleum, working slowly, painstakingly.

  The dog watched him from a corner, head on paws, eyes alone moving.

  It took Sidney Zoom three-quarters of an hour to finish his task. Then he motioned to the dog, indicated the closet.

  Slowly, questioningly, the dog entered the closet.

  “Stay there, Rip,” commanded Sidney Zoom.

  Then he stepped to the outer doorway.

  The corridor of the office building was of a white marble effect. Upon it, in front of the door of the office, Sidney Zoom sprinkled some white powder. It was virtually invisible against the white of the corridor.

  “Wait there, Rip,” he called to the dog who had crawled back into the corner of the closet at the command of his master, and closed the closet door until it was open but a half an inch.

  The dog whined, but remained where he had been placed.

  Sidney Zoom left the office. The latch on the outer door clicked as he pulled it shut.

  Then Sidney Zoom took up a vigil before the entrance of the office building. There was in his posture something of the grim efficiency of a lion waiting by a water hole.

  The traffic of the street increased. Early office workers began to straggle into the building. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the stream increased. Abruptly it reached its crest. Young women, expressionless of face, bright of eye, shouldered their way into elevators, thronged the corridors.

  Then almost at once, the stream thinned. Late comers sprinted for elevators, glancing anxiously at the clock. Business men bustled into the corridors, portly, important.

  Sidney Zoom surveyed the whole stream of civilization’s flotsam as it slid past. His scornful eyes showed his hatred for the entire affair, but they missed no face.

  It was nine twenty that a pasty face showed at the doorway of the lobby. A fat man walked with swift, jerky steps, so nervously rapid that they jiggled the pasty balls of flesh which clung to his flabby face.

  “Ah,” said Sidney Zoom, “Mr. Jed Slacker.”

  The man jerked himself to an abrupt stop.

&nbs
p; “Huh? Who? What?”

  The words were explosive.

  Sidney Zoom smiled, a cold, frosty smile.

  “It’s a wonder you wouldn’t come to your office in the morning! I’ve been waiting an hour.”

  The flabby face twisted into a sudden smile that pushed the balls of fat about into a strange distortion.

  “Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes! Zoom! Mr. Sidney Zoom. Met you out at Goldfinch’s place. Sure had me worried last night. Or was it this morning? Guess it was this morning. Slept late. Seemed good to get to sleep. First sleep I’ve had for a long time — seems like a long time. Tried to get to sleep but simply couldn’t. Worrying... What d’yuh want?”

  “Just wanted to talk with you. Thought maybe Hargrave had seen you.”

  “Hargrave? Hargrave? Hargrave? Oh, yes, Jack Hargrave. Detective. Young fellow. Nice chap that. Why should he see me? Looking for me?”

  “I suppose so. He had the key to your office, I noticed.”

  The flabby face seemed for an instant to become more pallid. The skin took on a waxy luster of dead white.

  “Key? Key? Key? Key to my office? Must be mistaken, Zoom. Nobody has a key to my office, only me.”

  Zoom’s smile was patronizing.

  “Well,” he said, “you must have shut that detective up in the office all night then. When I went up to your office to see if you were in I met him coming out He had a sheet of typewriting in his hand, and some sort of a legal looking document.

  “I spoke to him and he didn’t seem glad to see me in particular. Don’t think he knew who I was. He figured I was some other tenant of an office on the same floor, I guess. But, even so, he wasn’t at all cordial. Didn’t seem to want to be seen. Hope I have not said anything I shouldn’t.”

  The fat man suddenly broke into an explosive laugh.

  “Say anything you shouldn’t! Hell, no! Remember now. Hargrave asked me if I had a duplicate key. Said he wanted to try out my typewriter. Seemed like he wanted to trace the writing on that declaration of trust I found. Don’t know why he wanted to do that, though.