ALM06 Who Killed the Husband?

by Hulbert Footner

  "Yes, sir, Mr. Mappin, sir, this is an honor. Who would you be wishing to see, Mr. Mappin?"

  "What is the name of the old lady, an invalid, who occupies the penthouse?"

  "Mrs. Bradford, sir."

  "I want to send up a note to her."

  There was a desk in an alcove off the hall, and Lee wrote: "Would Mrs. Bradford be good enough to see Mr. Amos Lee Mappin for a few moments? They just exchanged greetings from roof to roof." He enclosed this in an envelope with his card and sent it upstairs.

  The answer was not long in coming down: "Mrs. Bradford would be pleased to see Mr. Mappin."

  Lee was left waiting for some minutes in the pleasant living room of the penthouse. The sun streamed in through a row of tall French windows giving on the terrace. When the old lady was wheeled in by her attendant, he saw the reason for the delay; she had undergone a complete change of costume in preparation for her visitor. She now wore a pretty silk dress with a lace shawl over her shoulders and a silken coverlet over her knees. She had a coquettish black bow in her white hair and a touch of rouge in her withered cheeks; her eyes were bright with anticipation. She carried a tortoise-shell fan--not that she needed a fan, but merely as a becoming stage property. She extended her hand with an air--undoubtedly she had been a great belle in her youth.

  "How do you do, Mr. Mappin. It is an event for me to have a visitor--and especially such a distinguished visitor."

  "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Bradford," Lee said with his best bow.

  When the wheel chair was placed to her satisfaction, she dismissed her attendant. She signed to Lee to seat himself close to her.

  "It was very naughty of you, sir, to wave to me from the roof across the way!" She tapped his wrist with the closed fan and sadly shook her head. "Ah, and it was much naughtier of me to wave back again! It brought back old times for a moment. Do you remember that story of de Maupassant's in which the little Comtesse nodded to a strange gentleman from her window and he came right upstairs? A dreadful story, and so true to life! But you waved first! However, when one is as old as I, there is, unfortunately, no danger!"

  Lee said: "L'esprit never grows old, Mrs. Bradford."

  She shook her fan at him. "You have a beguiling tongue, Mr. Mappin!...Seriously, the old have a thin time of it. People forget that they exist. I am crippled with arthritis, as you see. They carry me from my bed to my chair and from my chair back to my bed again. Is that living? Sunshine is supposed to be beneficial to me. I could go to Florida, but I will not live among other invalids. They have warped minds. So my son took this penthouse with a southern exposure and every fine day they wheel me out on the terrace, and there I sit, doing nothing, seeing nothing. I am too high up to see into the street. Before the weather grew cold, it used to amuse me to watch the servants spooning on the roof opposite, but nobody comes up there any more. So you can imagine how interested I was when you appeared on the roof a while ago. I must apologize for the rude way I stared at you."

  "I was flattered by your interest," said Lee, "and here I am, you see!"

  She tapped his wrist with the fan. Lee let her run on, perfectly willing to play the game of 1890 philandering with her because he could see that she was no fool. She knew that he had an object in coming, and in the end she asked him plainly what it was.

  "It was the binoculars that gave me the idea," said Lee. "You are perhaps in a position to do me a very great service--and a service to others besides me."

  "Tell me what it is, Mr. Mappin! I am consumed with curiosity!"

  "This is Monday," said Lee. "I am thinking of another Monday two weeks ago. The sun was shining as it is today, but it was later than now, say shortly after three o'clock. Can you remember that afternoon?"

  Mrs. Bradford spread out her hands. "All my days are so exactly alike! If there was something to fix that day in my mind...!"

  "Another man on the roof across the way."

  "Why yes, of course!" she cried. "That was the last person who appeared on the roof until I saw you today. He came out of one door, crossed the roof and went through the other door."

  "Can you be sure it was Monday?"

  "Let me see," she said; "even so small a thing makes a big difference in my afternoon...Yes, that was the afternoon I broke a cup. My nurse brings me tea at four and I remember I was telling her about the man I saw when the cup slipped off the saucer and broke. Monday two weeks ago."

  "Did you get a good look at the man?"

  "I did. Through the binoculars."

  "Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

  "I certainly would."

  "Mrs. Bradford," said Lee, "is your condition such that you could appear in court to identify the man?"

  The old lady clapped her hands on the arms of her chair and partly raised herself. Her eyes widened like a child's. "Go to court!" she cried, "Me? How wonderful! What a break in my dull life! I would like to see anybody stop me from going to court if I was wanted!"

  "I would, of course, see that you were taken and brought home in comfort," said Lee.

  "I'll go if they have to carry me on a stretcher, Mr. Mappin!"

  After he had left Mrs. Bradford, Lee spent an hour darting from place to place in taxicabs. First to the Fulton National Bank to have Agnes Gartrey's check certified in case that unstable lady changed her mind; then to his own bank to deposit the check; to Police Headquarters to hand his own check to Inspector Loasby and to give him the great news. To Loasby he said:

  "You and I will go up to Greenwich tomorrow morning and fetch him down together--if a word of this gets out in advance, it will spoil everything."

  "It will not get out through me!" said Loasby.

  Lee then drove up to his own office. Fanny had come in, having satisfactorily performed her errand, and the two girls were having a belated lunch. Lee dictated a letter.

  Dear Johnny:

  Everything is shaping up well. A ten-thousand-dollar reward has been offered for your capture. This naturally will excite the Rennerts. They are poor people and it is not fair to put so heavy a strain on their loyalty. Tell Matt Rennert and his wife immediately (if you can get word to them before they read the papers, so much the better) that you have decided to give yourself up and that they may have the credit for it. Tell them that if they should try to take you in themselves, some smart guy would be sure to horn in on the reward. Inspector Loasby and I are coming up to fetch you at eleven o'clock tomorrow and they can then hand you over and take a receipt for you.

  Tell Charlotte that I have built up a pretty good case and there is no cause to worry.

  Yours,

  Pop.

  Meanwhile, Lee had ordered a car with the driver he had used on the previous day. To the driver he said:

  "This letter must be dropped in the Greenwich post-office before the mail goes out at four. You have a good hour and a half. Should you be delayed and miss the mail, carry the letter direct to Mount Pisgah and give it to somebody at the cottage inside the gate."

  Soon after the man had departed, the extras were out on the streets, announcing the reward for information leading to the capture of Al Yohe. It occurred to Lee that this would afford him an excuse to call again at the Gartrey apartment. Stuffing one of the papers in his pocket, he drove uptown.

  Denman showed a little surprise upon seeing him so soon again. He showed Lee into the salon and went away to consult his mistress. Almost immediately he was back, saying:

  "Mrs. Gartrey will see you, sir. Please follow me." This did not suit Lee's plans at all. "You needn't trouble to show me, Denman," he said offhandedly. "I know the way."

  "Very well, sir. Mrs. Gartrey is in the boudoir." Denman turned back toward the pantry while Lee started through the music room, keeping the tail of an eye on the servant. He lingered for a moment, affecting to examine a picture. The moment the service door swung to behind Denman, Lee ran across the foyer as fast as his short legs would carry him and pushed the door open again. He had pad and pencil read
y. He was in time to hear Denman start dialing. Concentrating all his attention on the job, Lee made lines on his pad to suit...seven lines.

  Denman got his connection at once. There was no greeting; the servant merely said: "Mappin is back again." Lee, waiting to hear no more, slipped back into the foyer. Here he came face to face with Agnes Gartrey, who had come looking for him. Her eyebrows went up to their highest. Lee, having got what he wanted, was not in the least abashed.

  "Denman," he said mysteriously; "I have noticed that whenever I come here he always telephones the news to somebody. I was trying to find out who it was."

  "And did you?" asked Agnes.

  "No. No name was mentioned over the phone." Agnes was disposed to be angry. "I've had enough of this. I will question Denman."

  Lee did not greatly care--now--whether she did or not; however, he said: "It would oblige me if you said nothing to him. Leave Denman to me and I'll catch him out yet."

  "Do you suspect who it was?" she demanded.

  Lee lied in his blandest fashion. "I have no idea."

  Agnes, suspicious, angry, puzzled, scarcely knew how to take Lee. She said in an uncertain voice: "Will you come into the boudoir?"

  "Thanks, no," said Lee. He pulled the newspaper out of his pocket. "I brought you this in order to show you that I had executed your commission."

  Agnes merely glanced at the headline. "I have seen it."

  Lee guessed that she already had reason to regret her precipitancy in offering the reward. "Well, then, we've nothing more to do except to wait for results," he said cheerfully. "Good-by, dear lady."

  Agnes offered him a limp hand. Her glance was baleful.

  In a taxicab, Lee figured out the telephone number from the lines on his pad. It ran thus: 12-6-6689. The first two numbers stood for the first letters of the exchange; the third number was the key number of the exchange; the last four digits represented the actual telephone number. Back in his office he consulted a card listing all the exchanges and their key numbers, and it worked out thus: BEaver 6-6689. Lee smiled.

  Chapter 22

  At half past nine next morning, Lee Mappin and Inspector Loasby, accompanied by two plain-clothes men, were on their way to Greenwich in a discreet limousine which displayed no police insignia. Lee's hired car followed in order to provide Charlotte and the baby with a more private means of transportation back to town. It was a fine, still day, and the four men were in good spirits, particularly Loasby. The case which had threatened to wreck his career was as good as solved. During the long drive the conversation dealt with police work in general; the Al Yohe case was scarcely mentioned. Lee was not acquainted with Loasby's two men and, always fearful of a premature leak to the press, he did not care to expose his hand.

  They were evidently expected at Mount Pisgah; Matt Rennert and his wife hastened to open the tall gates when they drew up before them. Lee's letter had been received in time. So far, so good. The Rennerts, simple, honest workers, were pale and slightly tremulous with excitement; they could scarcely believe in their good luck. They were invited to get into the second car and the two cars drove on through the woods and around the edge of the neglected lawn to the mansion.

  Leaving the cars in the drive, the whole party walked around to the south front and passed through the main garden into the private enclosure. Lee smiled, seeing the baby carriage tucked in the sheltered corner of the cedars: nothing was to be allowed to interfere with young Lester's routine. Charlotte came running up. She was dressed for town but her face was drawn with anxiety.

  "I'm so worried about Al!" she said.

  "Where is he?" asked Lee sharply.

  "Gone out."

  "Gone out?"

  Loasby's face turned grim. Al Yohe had slipped through his fingers so many times!

  "Didn't he get my letter yesterday afternoon?" asked Lee sternly.

  "Yes, Pop, but another letter supposed to be from you came this morning. It countermanded your previous instructions."

  "I wrote no such letter!"

  "I have it here," said Charlotte, opening her palm and revealing a crumpled paper. "Read it! Read it!"

  Lee read the typewritten page:

  Sunday night.

  Dear Al:

  Since I saw you today there have been some awkward developments. I can't stop to explain them now. I'll tell you when I see you. The police have been tipped off to your hide-out and you must make a quick getaway. I have found a new hide-out for you, absolutely safe. You will receive this about nine o'clock. Proceed immediately through the farm gates, past the farm buildings of Mount Pisgah, and along the farm road to the outer pasture. You will find a car waiting for you there. You can trust the chauffeur. I can't come myself because I'll be busy pulling wool over the eyes of the police. There's a gate from the pasture to a little-used public road. The chauffeur will bring you to me. Lose no time and don't worry about Charlotte and the kid. The police have nothing on her. Later on, I'll arrange to have her join you.

  Yours in haste,

  L. M.

  The initialed signature was penciled in a good imitation of Lee's hand.

  "This is a fake!" cried Lee. "I don't address Al in that manner nor do I sign myself like that. Every word smells of deceit!"

  "I know," said Charlotte piteously. "Al thought so, too."

  "Then why did he go?"

  "He thought he might be able to discover the identity of the real criminal and perhaps capture him."

  "Oh, the young fool!" groaned Lee.

  "He was armed," Charlotte continued. "He promised to be careful. He said he'd take a couple of the farm boys with him. I couldn't stop him."

  "How long has he been gone?"

  "More than an hour. I have been so..."

  From far off in the still air came the sound of a shot. Charlotte caught her breath on a gasp. The whole group stood transfixed. There were two louder reports close together, another sharp one, and after a pause two more heavier reports. Charlotte's face turned paper white; she reeled on her feet and Lee caught her.

  "Quick! to the car!" he cried to Loasby. "Follow the drive around the house and straight back to the farm gates!"

  Lee handed the fainting girl over to the care of Mrs. Rennert and ran after the policemen. They piled into the car and let her out, turning the corner of the house on two wheels, speeding straight back between vegetable and fruit gardens. The farm gates stood open and they dashed through at seventy miles an hour. Outside, the well-cared-for fields of Pisgah spread wide before them; there were no humans in sight. They flew past the farm buildings without slackening speed and over a rough farm road beyond, springs leaping, body pounding on the chassis. Lee was grinding his teeth in mixed anger and apprehension. He had not realized before how deeply the scapegrace Al, with his beguiling smile and his gaiety, had crept into his affections--not to speak of Charlotte and the baby.

  They banged across a little wooden bridge and climbed a long rise. Rounding a clump of woods, they came upon three figures walking in the road, and the driver ground to a stop with screaming brakes. Al Yohe, with a sheepish grin, was walking in the middle, a young farm laborer on either side of him. Lee was the first out of the car.

  "Are you hurt?" he shouted.

  "Not a scratch!" said Al.

  Lee, conscious of a sudden weakness, sat down on the running board and wiped his face.

  "Where's the man you came to meet?" demanded Loasby.

  "Vamoosed," said Al, grinning wider.

  After their big scare, the members of the rescue party felt a little sold. "Well...get in and let's go back," said Loasby gruffly.

  The car turned around and they climbed in. The farm workers stood on the running board and dropped off when they came to the barn. Inside, Al told his story.

  "On the way out I stopped off at the barn and persuaded these two fellows to go with me. I had an automatic and they took their shotguns. Not much good for two-legged game. We proceeded cautiously by the farm road. Couldn't see anythi
ng until after we had crossed the brook and climbed the hill beyond. The pasture is the last field on the farm. It's hidden by trees until you come to the fence. When we got there we could see a black sedan standing at the other side of the field, but there wasn't anybody in it, nor anywhere around, so far as we could see. There are woods to the east and the south of the pasture and we thought they might be hidden there, so we made a detour through the middle of the field where nobody could steal up on us. Luckily for me, there is a ditch running through the middle of the pasture.

  "Suddenly we heard the crack of a shot from the car and a bullet pinged through my hat and carried it off. A near thing, that. We dropped flat and the boys let go with their cannons. I held my fire because I couldn't see anything. The bastard must have been crouching behind the engine hood, firing over the top. He fired again and I scrambled for the ditch and rolled into it. It was me he was shooting at. When he saw he couldn't reach me, he climbed in his car and drove across the pasture hell for leather, out through the gate and east on the public road. The boys banged away again, but their pellets wouldn't make a scratch at that distance. Stout fellows, those two. I must remember to give them a present. There was only one man in the car. Whoever he was, he played a lone hand. Damn good shot. What had he to gain by croaking me, Lee?"

  Lee said: "He knows enough to realize that if you are arrested the whole truth is bound to come out and that it will spell his finish."

  Al judged from Lee's expression that it would be wiser not to ask any more questions while there were so many listeners. "Who's got a cigarette?" he asked. "In my excitement, I left mine."

  Lee offered his case. "You got off easier than you deserved," he said dryly.

  There was a joyful reunion when they returned to the mansion. Charlotte, careless of the onlookers, flung herself into Al's arms.

  "Oh, you frightened me so! You frightened me so!" she scolded.

  Al soothed her. "I'm sorry, Charlie!" He glanced at Lee. "Seems like I made a fool of myself all round." The irrepressible grin broke through. "But how could I refuse a dare like that?"