ALM06 Who Killed the Husband?

by Hulbert Footner

  "That's all, Miss Eliza," said Lee. "And thank you very much."

  Eliza went back into the dressing room holding her handkerchief to her face.

  "So you see," said Agnes, "there cannot be the slightest doubt that Al Yohe is guilty."

  "I have no doubt," said Lee.

  "Will you have a drink?"

  "No, thank you. I mustn't wait for that."

  Lee walked home. The act of walking supplies a gentle stimulus to the brain, and he saw things in a clearer light. He had spoken truly when he told Agnes he had no doubt. He believed that he at last knew what had happened. When a liar repudiates his lie and tells another, he gives away more than he is aware of. His successive lies point the way to the truth. But Lee had not a scintilla of evidence to take into court. I must have evidence! he said to himself.

  Chapter 17

  Meanwhile Inspector Loasby was working hard on the Robert Hawkins' murder and on the following afternoon, Friday, he telephoned gleefully to Lee that he had built up a complete case against Jocker Stacey. Lee went down to Headquarters to hear his report.

  "The Philadelphia waitress has recovered her nerve," Loasby said to Lee. "Today she picked out Stacey from among six men three times running without any hesitation. That in itself is enough to send him to the chair. But I have also been confronting him with different trainmen and conductors of the Pennsylvania Railroad as they came into New York on their runs, and he has been positively identified by two men as having been on the 2:30 train from New York on Tuesday afternoon. Another trainman swears that he was aboard the 9:38 from West Philadelphia to New York Tuesday night. It's lucky for us that the Jocker is a striking looking fellow. A clerk at the Information Desk in the West Philadelphia Station has identified him as the man who asked how to get to Frankford Tuesday afternoon. It all fits together, you see."

  "Does he know you have secured this evidence against him?"

  "Sure! I told him that he might as well come clean now, but he only laughs. He has engaged Harry Brummel for his attorney."

  "Hm!" said Lee. "Stacey must have been handsomely paid for this murder."

  "You said it, Mr. Mappin. Brummel comes high. The most conspicuous criminal lawyer in New York, and the most unscrupulous. A sinister figure, if you ask me; I hope I may live to see him disbarred. He has the reputation of never having lost a homicide case. The crooks of this city look on him as a superman. But I don't see how even Brummel can get this killer off."

  "The District Attorney had better watch his jury," said Lee dryly. "There are millions available to beat this case."

  Loasby was presently called on the telephone by the celebrated Harry Brummel. The Inspector first looked pleased as he listened to his communication, and afterwards suspicious. He said to him on the wire:

  "All right, I'll have him brought here, Mr. Brummel. You may be present while he makes his statement, but I must warn you not to prompt him nor communicate with him in any way, or I'll have to call the proceedings off."

  When he hung up, Loasby gave an order for Dominick Stacey to be brought from the Tombs to his office. Loasby said to Lee with a scowl: "Brummel says that after consulting with his client and learning the extent of the evidence against him, he has advised him to come clean, and Stacey has agreed...I don't much like the look of it, Mr. Mappin. Brummel is too slick. I suspect there's a trick in it."

  "I am perfectly sure there is a trick in it," said Lee coolly. "Some of the most powerful interests in New York are out to get this man off."

  "How can they hope to get him off?" said Loasby, spreading out his hands, "a cold-blooded, premeditated murder and six witnesses ready to swear that Stacey is the man!"

  "They're working for a verdict of manslaughter," said Lee dryly. "Stacey would be glad to take a sentence of ten years, wouldn't he, with a third off for good behavior, and a million, say, waiting for him when he came out?"

  Loasby whistled softly.

  The effulgent Mr. Harry Brummel was presently brought in, a man in his forties who didn't look his age, very sure of himself, very beautifully dressed--too beautifully dressed for Lee's taste. Lee disliked him intensely, but concealed it pretty well; Loasby less successfully. Brummel, slick and obsequious as he was, nevertheless managed to convey that he didn't give a damn what anybody thought of him. He had a thick skin. His client was brought in between two officers. Jocker Stacey, tall, hard and insolent, looked pleased with himself, too.

  "I understand you are ready to make a statement," said Loasby.

  "That's right," said the prisoner with an impudent grin. "My lawyer tells me I'll get off easier if I come clean."

  "Sure; Judge, Prosecutor, jury, will be more lenient with you if you assist in bringing the principal criminal to justice. But you understand, nobody is making any bargain with you in advance for clemency."

  "I get you, Inspector."

  "You can sit down if your statement is going to run to any length. I must warn you that whatever you say here can be introduced as evidence at your trial."

  "I know it."

  The prisoner sat down and Loasby's secretary was brought in to take his statement. Jocker asked for a cigarette and it was given him. He said:

  "Last Tuesday, November 11th, I took the 2:30 train on the Pennsylvania to West Philadelphia. I asked in the station how to get to Frankford and was told to take the Elevated. In Frankford I mooched around to get the lay of the land and afterwards went into the Red Lion cafe to wait until six o'clock. I met old Hawkins outside a restaurant. I had never seen him before but he was described to me. I was told to explain to him that the friend he expected had gotten a position that day and had asked me to take his place as he wanted to blow Hawkins to a good feed..."

  "What was this friend's name?" put in Loasby.

  "I couldn't tell you, Inspector; Jack something. I only heard the name once and it has slipped my mind. It was a fellow Hawkins had worked with some place previously."

  "All right. Proceed."

  "Hawkins was suspicious of me at first but I talked him around. We ate dinner and afterwards we went around to Hawkins' room to drink. I had a pint flask of rye and the poison in a little bottle. I read in the papers it was cyanide; I didn't know what it was before. I was just told to give him a few drops in his whisky. We had a few drinks together first and the old man got a little mellow. It was simple to distract his attention for a moment and put the drops in his glass. He swallowed the shot and just give me a look; he couldn't speak; he went out like a light switched off. I fixed the suicide note the way I had been told and left the balance of the whisky and the poison on the bureau and got out. Took the 9:38 from West Philly back to New York. Oh, yes, I forgot to say I was told to look for the letter the old man got that day. So I searched his pockets and I took it."

  "What name was signed to that letter?"

  "I never read it, Inspector. Tore it up and threw the pieces away in a toilet in the railway station."

  "Why did you put the light out in Hawkins' room?" asked Loasby.

  The young man betrayed no emotion beyond a slight annoyance. "You can search me, Inspector. Certainly was a dumb play."

  "You were pretty excited, I take it."

  This touched the killer's pride. "No, sir!" he said quickly. "That old guy was nothing to me."

  "If he was nothing to you, why did you kill him?"

  "It was a job. I got paid for it."

  "Who paid you?"

  All the men in the room were hanging on his answer. Jocker, gratified to find himself the center of so much attention, paused and grinned from one to another. "Al Yohe," he said coolly.

  Muttered imprecations escaped from some of the men. Lee, however, was differently affected. So this is the plot! he thought. My course is clear from now on. I'm on Al Yohe's side.

  Loasby said: "Describe the circumstances under which Yohe got in touch with you."

  "It was the Monday night previous, Inspector. I was playing pool with some fellows in Slater's parlor on Grand Str
eet. There was this guy sitting among a lot of other guys in chairs along the wall. He was disguised and I didn't recognize him; nobody in the place did. After the game was over he come up to me and said: 'You're a good player, Jocker; will you drink with me?' Well, I could see by his clothes that he was a guy from uptown and I thought there might be something in it. So we had a drink there in the back room of Slater's. 'How did you know my name?' I asked him, and he said: 'I heard the men talking about you. Guess you don't know what a famous guy you are around here, Jocker.' Trying to butter me up, see? So I let him buy me all the drinks he wanted and we talked, he all the time hinting there was something pretty good in it for me, something big.

  "So before he come to the point he said: 'We better go to some place where you're not known, Jocker,' and we went out of Slater's and he said: 'How about the Biltmore bar? There's such a crowd there nobody would remember us after.' And I said okay, and we drove uptown to the Biltmore and took a table in the bar and the guy continued to buy, and we got real friendly. So finally it come out: was I willing to take on a job down in Philly? 'What kind of a job?' I ask, and he said, 'Liquidating an old guy who's got one foot in the grave already.' I give him the big laugh and made out I took him for a stool pigeon trying to get something on me. So he said: 'I'm in no position to sing to the police. Look me over good,' he said, and took off his glasses. So then I seen it was Al Yohe and I said, just to kid him, I said: 'What's to prevent me turning you over to the cops? It would square me for life with the cops. I could get away with anything after.' And he said: 'You won't do that.' And I said: `Why won't I?' And he said: 'Look under the table.' And I looked and I seen he had a gun out and pointed at my guts. And I said: Tut away your barker, kid, I ain't doing business with the police.'

  "So I been reading about Al Yohe's case in the papers and I knew what he wanted to rub out the old guy for. He mentioned a grand and I said nothing doing. When I got him up to three grand, half in advance, I seen he wouldn't go no higher, so I said okay, and we shook hands on it. We talked over the details and Al said he would write to the old guy that night. So we made a date to meet in the same place at twelve noon on Tuesday. Al was there waiting for me at noon and it was then he give me my last instructions and the whisky, the bottle of poison, the suicide note and pencil, and the fifteen hundred dollars. Promised to pay the balance in a week. I wasn't worrying about that because he knew that if he didn't come across I could tip off the police by mail or phone."

  "Did you make another date to meet Al Yohe?" asked Loasby.

  "No, Inspector. Al knew where he could find me any time."

  "What did you do with the fifteen hundred?"

  "Gave it to my girl to keep for me. After I talked to Mr. Brummel today I sent word to her to bring it down to Headquarters and hand it to you, Inspector. Mr. Brummel said if I was going to come clean it had to be clean."

  Some of the officers in the room put their hands before their mouths. None dared to grin openly in the powerful lawyer's face. Lee said:

  "May I put a question, Inspector?"

  "Certainly, Mr. Mappin."

  "Jocker," said Lee, "if you're giving up all the money you have, how are you going to pay Mr. Brummel?"

  The prisoner's hard face betrayed not a flicker of expression. "Mr. Brummel, he said he would take his chance of being paid. He wouldn't take the case, he said, unless I gave up the dirty money."

  "Knowing," said Lee dryly, "that there would be plenty more where that came from."

  Brummel jumped up with a great parade of indignation. "Mr. Inspector, I object to such foul insinuations in the presence of the police!"

  Loasby said: "This is not a courtroom, Mr. Brummel. Mr. Mappin's remarks are off the record."

  Having registered a formal protest, Brummel was immediately all smiles and obsequiousness again. He came around to where Lee was sitting and laid a hand on his shoulder. "No hard feelings, I hope, Mr. Map-pin. I certainly would not like you to get a down on me. I look on you as the cleverest brain in New York today."

  His hypocrisy made Lee feel a little sick at his stomach. He offered his snuffbox to Brummel, who hastily drew back. "Clever," said Lee blandly, helping himself to a pinch, "but hardly as clever as all that."

  When the prisoner was taken away and his gaudy lawyer had departed, Lee and Loasby faced each other across the latter's desk. The Inspector said solemnly:

  "This begins to look like a devilish plot, Mr. Mappin."

  "It has the smell of it," agreed Lee.

  "Their stories all fit together so neatly, and there is no evidence on the other side. How the devil are we going to expose it?"

  "I don't know--yet," said Lee, "but I mean to give my whole time to it. I'm for Al Yohe now." He felt a curious lightness in saying it. The conflict between his mind and his feelings was over.

  "I feel a little like that myself," said Loasby, "but it looks bad."

  Lee said: "The name that was signed to the decoy letter would furnish a valuable clue. Jocker was certainly lying when he said he didn't know it. I don't approve of so-called third degree methods but any legitimate pressure that you could bring on Jocker to get that name out of him..."

  "I have it in mind," said Loasby, "but how can we accomplish anything as long as Al Yohe is a fugitive?"

  "You are right. However, if I knew where Al was at this moment, I wouldn't tell you."

  "Why not?"

  "If Al was arrested, the case would be taken out of our hands and perhaps rushed to a fatal conclusion before we could act effectively."

  "You don't know where Al is, by any chance, do you?" demanded Loasby suspiciously.

  "I do not," said Lee smiling, "but I warn you, if I find him I'll keep it to myself."

  Loasby frowned, not quite knowing how to take this. "Well, if I can't find him, I don't guess you can."

  "Probably not," said Lee. "I suppose we can't keep the story of Jocker Stacey's confession out of the newspapers for the moment?"

  Loasby shook his head. "Impossible! If we didn't give it out, Brummel would. It's part of his game to get his side of the case before the public before it can be questioned."

  Chapter 18

  During the past ten days Stan Oberry, at Lee Mappin's order, had been quietly investigating the sales of fresh Beluga caviar. None had been imported since the war. Only one firm in the city, Chandler and Company, had a dwindling stock of the delicacy in cold storage. The price had soared and sales were few, but each sale was found to have a destination above suspicion.

  Late Saturday afternoon, while Lee was in his apartment, Stan called to make a report. "Half an hour ago," he said, "just before Chandler's closed for the day, they received an order for a pound of that Russian stuff I thought you'd like to hear about. The order was from La Sourabaya..."

  "Ah!" said Lee, "Al Yohe's joint! Decidedly interesting!"

  The order was brought by François, an old waiter from the night club, who paid cash for the stuff, which seemed a little strange because La Sourabaya's credit is plenty good at Chandler's. The waiter insisted on having it packed in dry ice because, he said, it was for a customer in the country."

  "Better and better," said Lee. "Go on."

  "My man followed François when he left Chandler's. He took the package to La Sourabaya, right enough, and carried it in with him. I thought you'd like to know that it was a fancy, pasteboard box about a foot square, green in color, with Chandler's label on the top and a broad red stripe around the middle of the box."

  "Excellent!" said Lee. "I'll get dressed and go to La Sourabaya for my dinner."

  The night club opened at six o'clock for the dinner trade and Lee in evening clothes was on hand soon after. A new Captain received him in the foyer. Lee said:

  "I am told you have an excellent waiter here called François. I'd like to have him if he is available."

  "Most certainly, sir."

  Lee was almost the first to sit down in the immense, dimly lighted hall, decorated to represent a night sce
ne in the East Indies. La Sourabaya at the dinner hour had a very different atmosphere from La Sourabaya after midnight. There was no music or floor show; the emphasis was all upon good food and wines. By taking care of the finer details, Al Yohe had succeeded in attracting a small, but very choice clientele for dinner. Among other things he had dug up three or four old waiters of the rare sort that is fast disappearing from the earth. François was one of them. He came to the table bowing. With his pleasant, wrinkled face, curled lock of hair and side whiskers, he looked like a painting by Daumier.

  "Good evening, François," said Lee.

  "Bon soir, M'sieu. You know me, then?"

  "I never saw you before, but you have been recommended to me and I asked for you especially."

  "You are very kind, M'sieu."

  "I am early," said Lee. "Let us take our time over dinner."

  The old man was innocently pleased. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir! So one should dine! But Les Americains are always in a hurry!"

  Lee picked up the menu. "To begin with, I would like a morsel of fresh caviar."

  François' old face made a picture of distress. "I am sorry, sir, there is none. You see it has been removed from the card. We have not had any since...since Mr. Yohe went away."

  "You are sure you could not find me a portion in the pantry?"

  "Not for love nor money, sir. It is still to be had in New York, but when a customer desires it, we must be notified in advance."

  Lee with a shrug appeared to let it go. Studying the menu, and consulting with François, he ordered his dinner. François entered into the choice with enthusiasm.

  During the course of the meal he hovered around the table solicitously. At the moment he had no one else to wait on.

  "François," said Lee, "don't you find it rather trying for a man of your years to work in so popular a restaurant? Such crowds come here every night."

  "I do not serve the late-comers, sir. Younger men are required for that. I am only for dinner. My hours are from five-thirty until nine-thirty."