Death Points a Finger

by Will Levinrew

  Chapter V

  At the police station, where the investigators and the reporterswere sent by Dr. Simpson, they were told that Detective Brasher,who had the case in hand, was still at the home of Morris Miller,finishing his examination.

  They had no difficulty finding the Morris home. He had built,years before, a house which was called by the natives for milesaround, "Miller's Folly," to resemble a medieval castle. Millerhad gone to the extent of building a draw bridge in front of thehouse, which was let down and drawn up regularly morning andnight.

  The rear of the house was on a high point facing the western shoreof Lake Memphremagog, with only a narrow strip of land separatingit from the waters of the lake. The blankness of the entire rearfacade of the structure was broken only by one window, built intoa deep embrasure. Above the window was a small circular openingabout the size of a porthole.

  Detective Brasher was cordial to the visitors. He had beennotified of their coming.

  He led the way to the room on the third floor where the body hadbeen found that morning.

  "Nothin' to it, Professor," said Brasher, "nothin' to it. Mr.Miller used this room to write and read in and the next room forsleeping. You see it is a sort of suite, with a bath room andeverything.

  "This room is just as we found it this mornin' when we broke in.Mr. Miller was lyin' on the couch there, the bed in the next roomis made up like the maid left it; it hadn't been slept in. He waslyin' on his back with a hole in his temple--oh, you saw that. Allright.

  "Well, his arm hung down over the edge of the couch, and therevolver was on the floor where he dropped it. There was hisfinger marks on it all right and no one else's. The gun is there,"pointing to a table, among miscellaneous odds and ends, "andnobody touched it. The door was locked from inside and so was thewindow of the bedroom. They tell me he always slept with the doorand window locked."

  "How did he get air during the night?" asked McCall.

  "Through that." Brasher was standing on the threshold separatingboth rooms and was pointing to the porthole in which was fixed acircular fan. Brasher continued:

  "We came here about eight o'clock, or mebbe a quarter after. Mr.Miller used to get up very early. When he wasn't down forbreakfast this mornin' and the people down stairs knowin' he hadan appointment with Judge Higginbotham, they came up and called.When there was no answer to their callin' and knockin' they calledus up.

  "Me and another man from headquarters, we broke the door open andwe found him like I tell you. Doc Simpson says he was dead aboutfive or six hours when we found him. That makes it about threeo'clock when he kills himself. You see the servants had all goneafter dinner; gone to a movie. A shot fired in this room couldn'tbe heard down stairs. I tried it.

  "No, there's nothin' to it, Professor. It's a dead open and shutcase. Mr. Miller committed suicide, don't need any scientificsharps to tell that."

  Professor Brierly nodded absently. He was gazing about the room.Then he walked to the library table, on which lay the revolver. Hestooped over it and turned to the detective.

  "May I examine this weapon, Mr. Brasher?"

  "Sure, help yourself."

  "It is certain, Mr. Brasher, that there are no finger prints onthis weapon other than those of Mr. Miller?"

  "That's certain. Our finger print man hasn't had the experience ofthe big city men, but he's a good man, just the same, and knowswhat he's talkin' about."

  "And he said what, about the finger prints?"

  "He said that there were Mr. Miller's finger prints all over thegun, that part of Mr. Miller's thumb print, his right thumb was onthe trigger, showin' that that's the way he must have pulled thetrigger, with his thumb, understand?"

  "We will take this for granted, Mr. Brasher. Now, did any onedisturb the barrel of the weapon, remove the shells or--"

  "No, Professor, nothin' like that was done, the gun is there justas we found it. We know a little about guns but we ain't expert,get me, and we thought we'd leave it till--"

  Professor Brierly was not listening. He gingerly picked up theweapon from the table, using his handkerchief, and removed thecylinder, which held one empty shell and five loaded ones.

  With a deftness and a certainty of movement, remarkable in a manof his age, he removed one of the bullets from a shell, using hisknife for the purpose. He first examined the bullet and comparedit with one he took from his vest pocket. Then he spilled thepowder into the palm of his hand, examined and sniffed that. Helooked up.

  Brasher was beginning to show a little impatience. He said:

  "Like I said, there's nothin' to it, Professor, nothin' at all.Miller committed suicide."

  Professor Brierly shook his head gently.

  "I am afraid you are wrong, Mr. Brasher. There is a great deal toit. One thing, seems certain. If Mr. Miller killed himself, it isreasonably certain that it was an accident; that he did not intendto do so. And, off hand, although I am not prone to giving snapjudgment, I should say that the chances are enormously against hiseither having shot himself by accident or design."

  "But, Professor, there was Mr. Miller on the couch, his gun nearhis hand, where he dropped it. The door and window were locked,not only locked, but bolted, from inside; Mr. Miller was a verysuspicious man; that's why he built this tower.

  "In addition to this, he had a burglar alarm on the door, hedidn't need one on the window.

  If you look out the window in the next room you'll see that itwould take a bird, or anyhow, something that can fly, to get atit. A monkey couldn't get at the window, to say nothing of gettingin.

  "When we came this morning, the door was bolted and the alarm wason. The window was as you see it, bolted from inside. As for thatventilating thing, a baby couldn't get in. There were powder marksaround the bullet hole. So, how--"

  Professor Brierly was not listening. He walked into the bedroom,followed by the others. He examined the walls and floors. He wentto the window, submitting each pane to a careful scrutiny. Helooked carefully at the sill. Then he went to the door, with itsjagged scars showing from the recent assault upon it by thepolice. He returned once more to the window. He opened it--it swungoutward on a hinge--and looked out a long time.

  When he withdrew his head from his long scrutiny, even Matthews,who knew him best, could not tell from his demeanor if he had whathe was seeking. For that matter, Matthews was completely in thedark as to what his mentor and foster father was looking for.

  Professor Brierly turned to Brasher, who had followed him into theroom and was following his movements with cynical amusement.

  "Who takes care of these rooms, Mr. Brasher; I mean who cleansthem?"

  "I don't know, but there's a sort of housekeeper. I'll get her uphere."

  "Do so, please."

  A thin, middle-aged woman, dressed in somber black, appeared. Shelooked from one to the other of the group of men. There was noemotion visible on her thin features, except for a tinge ofdefiance. She was introduced as Mrs. Horsnall.

  "Mrs. Horsnall," asked Professor Brierly, "who cleans theserooms?"

  "The maid, Ella."

  "When did she clean these rooms last?"

  "Yesterday afternoon."

  "Are you sure she cleaned them properly?"

  "She did that, or she would have heard from me. I looked at therooms myself after she was through. I always look after the workof the help around here."

  No one present doubted that she did a thorough job of lookingafter things.

  "Have any repairs been done in these rooms recently, Mrs.Horsnall?"

  "Repairs, how do you mean?"

  "Well, such things as locks, hinges, lights, windows, and soforth."

  "No. We've got a man of all work who takes care of such things. Hehasn't been in these rooms since last spring; he replaced that fanin the hole there." She pointed to the ventilator.

  "How is it there is no screen on the window? There are mosquitoesaround here, are there not?"

  "Yes, sometimes. But Mr. Miller never opened the window
, except atnight sometimes, when there wasn't any light in the room and thatonly for a short time. You see, he was queer that way. He wasafraid of being shot at."

  "Did Mr. Morris have any revolvers, Mrs. Horsnall?"

  "Yes, he had three or four."

  "Is that one of them?"

  "I don't know. I wouldn't know one from the other. I never touchedthem; I was afraid of them."

  "And you are quite certain, Mrs. Horsnall, that no repairs weremade in the rooms since last spring and that no one except you,the maid, Ella, and Mr. Miller himself were in these rooms sincelast spring?"

  "I'm sure of that, sir."

  "Will you send the maid, Ella, up here, Mrs. Horsnall, and, thankyou."

  Ella, a sulky young woman of Irish extraction, came and verifiedeverything Mrs. Horsnall had said. Professor Brierly took her overpractically the same ground as he had the older woman.

  Professor Brierly dismissed her and went back to the window, whichhe submitted once more to a careful scrutiny. He absently pickedat the outer edges of the panes with his fingers. He turned toDetective Brasher, saying, apologetically:

  "I came up to this beautiful country for a rest and a vacation; Idid not think I should have any need for any revolvers. Can youtell me where I can get one like this and shells like these?" Hepointed to the table.

  Brasher looked at him suspiciously.

  "Sure, Professor, you can get them at Hinkle's sporting goodsstore, in town. Hinkle carries everything, but," belligerently,"what about your sayin' that Miller didn't kill himself?"

  "If you mean by 'killing himself,' that he committed suicide, Ican safely say, even now, with the incomplete information I have,that he did not kill himself. There is a possibility that he washandling the weapon and accidentally discharged it. But thesurrounding circumstances make that highly improbable."

  He paused for a moment and asked, abruptly: "Is there anyobjection to my looking about the grounds?"

  "None at all, Professor, but do you mind telling me what you wanta gun like this for?"

  "Certainly not. I should like to make some tests with it."

  "Professor, I've heard a lot about you. I'd like to work with you.I'm a rough neck, a man without education, just a hard workingdetective, but I do the best I can. I'd like to--"

  Brasher paused, floundered and reddened. There was a soft gleam inthe deeply sunken bright blue eyes of the old scientist. Henodded.

  "Of course, I'll be happy to have your help. I will just lookabout--"

  "I'll go with you, Professor, and there's no reason why you can'thave this gun, if it will help you."

  "That will be fine, Mr. Brasher. It is just the thing I need." Hewaited while the weapon and the shells were wrapped in a paper.Matthews took the parcel and the five men went outside.