Charlie Chan [6] The Keeper of the Keys

by Earl Derr Biggers

  “As a matter of fact,” Charlie continued, “this brings you, Mr. Ireland, unexpectedly back into limelight. Though you had not yet arrived on the place, it must be that you, none the less, were one of the last people to see Landini alive.”

  Ireland shifted in his chair. “Maybe I was,” he remarked. “It didn’t strike me before. When I turned in over the house, I looked down and seen some dame waving to me from the balcony. I dropped down to see who it was -“

  “You knew well enough who it was,” flashed his wife.

  “How could I, dearie? I thought maybe it was you. So I got down as near as I dared, and I seen it was Landini -“

  “So then you stunted around, risking your neck to give her a thrill -“

  “Now, dearie, I just circled round a few times, to get my bearings and locate the field -“

  “Did you, then, think the field was on the roof?” Cecile sneered.

  Her husband shrugged. “I knew where it was, and I knew what I was doing. I don’t need no back-seat drivers -“

  “Pardon,” Chan said. “How many times did you circle the house?”

  “Three times.”

  “And three times you beheld Landini on that balcony.”

  “No - only the first. The last two times she’d gone inside.”

  “And could you see - were the windows open?”

  “Well - I couldn’t be sure of that.”

  “Thank you so much.” Charlie walked off to a corner of the room with the sheriff. “Which concludes all those who were in this room when shot was fired,” he said in a low tone. “Now we advance to more important sector of our attack.”

  “But say,” demanded Holt. “Oughtn’t we to be writing all this down in a book?”

  Chan shook his head. “Not my method. Sight of paper and pencil sometimes has deleterious effect on speaker. I keep all this in mind, and at early opportunity, I make slight notes of it.”

  “My gosh - can you do that?” Holt answered. “I’ve forgot it already.”

  Charlie smiled. “Large empty place makes good storehouse,” he remarked, tapping his forehead. “Now we proceed.”

  “Just a minute,” Holt laid his hand on the detective’s arm. “Who’s that girl in the pink dress?”

  “Owner of the pink scarf,” Chan answered. “And I would humbly recall to you for the next few minutes the stern realities of lesson number one.”

  They went back to the other end of the room, and Chan again faced the assembly. “We come now,” he said, “to members of this party who were not in view when death came to unfortunate lady above. One of these has already made at least partial statement. Sing, here, was probably last person to see Landini alive, having been dispatched for blanket, he says, after airplane landed. What you do, Sing, up to that time?”

  “My don’ know,” shrugged Sing.

  “You must know,” replied Chan sternly.

  “Mebbe my min’ own business,” suggested Sing slyly.

  Charlie glared at him. He was finding his own compatriot a bit trying. “Listen to me,” he said. “This is murder case, understand - murder case. You answer my question, or maybe the sheriff here lock you up in big jail.”

  Sing stared at the young man. “Who - him?” he asked, incredulous.

  “That’s right, Sing,” Holt said. “You answer. Understand?”

  “Allight,” agreed Sing. “Why you no say so light away? My jes’ go aloun’ tendin’ to own business.”

  “What was your business? What did you do?” Chan continued patiently.

  “Boss see me in has, say you catch ‘um Cecile. My catch ‘um. Then my go downstair. Go out back step watch landing field. Boss come out, say to me, ‘Sing, Landini want something, you catch ‘um.’”

  “Just a minute.” Chan turned to Dudley Ward.

  “That’s right,” Ward said. “I’d just passed Cecile on the back stairs and I gathered she had no intention of getting that blanket. I was in too much of a hurry about the lights to argue, so I just sent Sing to attend to it.”

  “My go in house,” Sing continued when urged. “Heah lil dog bark in kitchen. Stop lissen. Plitty soon go upstair, membah Missie. Go to room, say, ‘What you want, Missie? She say, ‘Sing, you catch ‘um blanket like go’ boy, covah up dog.’ Dog, dog, dog all time when she ‘lound. My go out -“

  “The airplane had now landed on the field?” Charlie inquired.

  “Yes.”

  “How you know that?”

  “Damn noise quiet now. My go my loom -“

  “On the third floor?”

  “Yes. My catch ‘um blanket. Plitty soon heah noise. Mebbe pistol. So my come down with blanket -“

  “Very slowly, I judge,” remarked Chan.

  “Wha’s th’ mallah?” inquired Sing. “Plenty time. Plitty soon see Missie gits shot. Too bad,” he added, without emotion.

  “Thank you so much,” said Chan, with obvious relief. “That will do, for the present.” He glanced at Holt. “Probably the last person to see Landini alive. I’ll talk with him later, alone.” He turned to the conductor. “Mr. Romano, so sorry to say I have somewhat warm interest in your actions for half-hour preceding this sad event.”

  “Me?” Romano gazed at him with innocent eyes.

  “You, indeed. When I last saw you, airplane was still over lake, and you walked about room with panther tread. What next?”

  “Ah, I recall,” said the musician slowly. “I was engaged in making a list of rules for this young man - a list which, alas, will not now be required. I was no doubt at that moment seeking to determine whether or not I had fully covered the ground. I saw you pass my door on your way downstairs -“

  “And continued with the list, maybe?”

  “No,” Romano answered, “not at all. It comes to me - now Landini must be alone. I hasten to the study, she is writing letter, she puts it in envelope, seals the flap. Now, I say, is come the time to talk about that settlement. I am - what you say - broke. I am - am I right? - flat. Landini addresses the envelope. ‘I am so sorry,’ she say, ‘but, Luis, I am in financial difficulty too. My investments do not pay proper dividends.’

  “Then I say, impassioned, ‘Ellen, you can not afford a new husband at this time. Why not cling to the old? I am still fond of you’ - but, Mr. Chan” - his old voice broke - “need I discuss that scene?”

  “Not at all,” Chan answered, “except to tell me her reply.”

  “It was,” Romano bowed his head, “it was not flattering to me. Imagine, if you can - after all I had done for her - cared for her like a bambino. The airplane was now approaching the house. She leaped to her feet, flung wide the windows. ‘Come and see me in Reno,’ she cried. ‘I will do what I can.’ And she ran on to the balcony.”

  “And you, Mr. Romano?”

  “Me - I was broken-hearted. I stared at her there on the balcony - it was to be my last sight of her alive - though of course I did not know that. Then I returned to my room, closed my door. I sat by the window, staring out at the snow, the dark trees, the sad night. Flung off, like an old coat, I sorrowed. But I was indignant, too. I remembered all I had done -“

  “Ah, yes. And you sat there, brooding, until you heard the shot.”

  “It is true. I heard the shot, and for a time, I wondered. Then, I hear footsteps, voices, and I follow you in here to your sad discovery.”

  “Tell me this.” Chan studied him keenly. “You were still the husband of Ellen Landini - at the least for two weeks more. As such, will you inherit any property she may leave?”

  Romano shook his head. “Alas, no. At the time the settlement was drawn up - the one which she so cruelly ignored - she told me she was making a will, leaving everything she had to her future husband - to Mr. Hugh Beaton here.”

  Surprised, Chan turned to the young man. “Did you know of this, Mr. Beaton?”

  Beaton looked up wearily. “Yes - she told me about it. Naturally, I didn’t want her to do it.”

  “Do you know whether the will
was made or not?”

  “She told me one day it had been drawn up. Signed, too, I suppose. I didn’t ask any questions. I hated the whole idea.”

  Charlie looked at Miss Beaton. “You, too, had heard of the affair?”

  “I had,” said the girl softly. “But I paid no attention. It didn’t matter.”

  Chan turned back to Romano. “What a sad position for you. Wife, money, everything lost. Do you, may I ask, happen to have that list you drew up for Mr. Beaton?”

  “It is in my -” Suddenly he stopped. “It is in my room. I will get it for you.”

  “So sorry.” Chan’s eyes narrowed. “You were about to say, I think, that it is in your pocket.”

  “You are mistaken,” Romano said, but his pale face had suddenly grown paler than ever. “What does it matter, at any rate?”

  “It matters so much,” Chan continued gently, “that unless you empty pockets here and now, I must reluctantly do same for you. Believe me, such a barbarous action would bring me pain.”

  Romano stood for a moment, considering.

  “The story,” he said finally, “of my interview with my wife was not quite complete. I - a man does not willingly speak of such things - but -” He reached into a trousers pocket and took out a roll of crisp new twenty-dollar bills which he handed to Chan. “Just before Ellen rushed on to the balcony she removed these from her bag, flung them on the desk. I - I accepted them. My case - was - desperate.” He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Chan looked down on him with real pity.

  “I am so glad,” the detective said, “that you saw way clear to amending own story. Unfortunately, these must remain with sheriff at present as evidence. But in meantime - we will see - way will be found - do not worry, Mr. Romano.” He turned with sudden grim determination on Doctor Swan. “And now, Doctor, your turn arrives. Where did you go after you left me in path before house?”

  “I haven’t much to tell,” said Swan. “I came in here, had a word or two with Dinsdale and Beaton, and then went upstairs - to the room that had been assigned me before dinner. I was planning to leave at the earliest possible moment.”

  “Ah - and you had left something in that room you wished to obtain?”

  “No - I had nothing up there. My coat and hat were in the closet down here. I had no luggage - it was not my intention to spend the night.”

  “You had nothing up there - then why did you go?”

  Swan hesitated. “The windows of that room faced the back. I figured I could see the plane land - and -“

  Charlie and the sheriff exchanged a look.

  “Well, I’ll be frank with you,” Swan went on. “As a matter of fact, it occurred to me that after Ireland had landed his plane, he’d probably come inside for a moment. I didn’t care to meet him. He knows what I think of him.”

  “And you know what I think of you,” said Ireland sneeringly.

  “No man,” continued Swan, “can look forward to a social meeting with a greasy chauffeur who once made love to his wife behind his back -“

  Ireland was on his feet. “Is that so -“

  “Sit down,” said Don Holt. “Now this is getting to be a case that I can handle. Sit down, Ireland, and shut up.”

  Big as he was, the aviator was not inclined to argue with the sheriff. He sat down, and Holt looked somewhat disappointed.

  “Let us continue,” said Chan, “peacefully. You went upstairs to avoid Mr. Ireland, Doctor Swan?”

  “Yes. I went into that room and closed the door. It was not my intention to come out of there until Ellen and the plane had gone. I watched it land, and I was standing by the window waiting to see it depart before returning downstairs. That is where I was when the shot was fired. It’s not much of an alibi, I know, but -“

  “I’ll say it’s not much of an alibi,” growled Ireland. “A fat chance you’ve got putting that over. Especially when they find out you’ve been blackmailing poor Landini for seven years -“

  “That’s a lie,” cried Swan, trembling with fury.

  “Blackmailing,” remarked Chan. He looked at Dudley Ward.

  “Yeah - blackmailing,” Ireland repeated. “She told me all about it. Two hundred and fifty a month for seven years, and the other day she told me she couldn’t pay any more. I advised her to order this buzzard to scram. Did she tell you, Doctor? I guess she did - from the looks of tonight.”

  “You’d better be careful,” said Swan through his teeth. “You’re not out of the woods yet yourself.”

  “Me?” Ireland said. “Why - I was flying around in the sky, innocent as a bird. I had nothing to do with this -“

  “But - your wife?” cried Swan. “How about your wife - or don’t you care what happens to her? Poor Cecile - wandering about upstairs almost insane with jealousy - and with good reason, too, I imagine. Where was Cecile when that shot was fired - that’s what I want to know.”

  “The proper authorities,” Chan put in, “will resume the inquiry into this case - if you have no objection, Doctor Swan. Cecile - pardon, Mrs. Ireland - we come now, with the doctor’s kind assistance, to you. Courtesy has not ruled us, you will observe. It appears to be a matter of ladies last.”

  “I - I know nothing,” the woman said.

  “As I feared. But let us push questions, none the less. When last I saw you, you had been sent to obtain blanket for dog. You did not busy yourself with such task?”

  Her eyes flashed. “I did not. I had no intention of doing so.”

  “Hot anger was in your heart?”

  “Why not? I had just seen Michael’s plane - I knew that woman had sent for him to take her home in the moonlight. And he, like a fool -“

  “It was my job, I tell you,” Ireland persisted sullenly.

  “And how you hated it, eh? No matter. I thought, ‘Let her find her own blanket for that accursed dog.’ I was on my way down the back stairs, when Mr. Ward hurried down after me. He asked about the blanket - I told him frankly I would not get it. ‘I wonder where Sing is,’ he said, and hastened past.”

  “And you -“

  “Me - I went to the kitchen, where the cook was. I heard Michael risking his life above the house. I waited - I would have a word with him, I thought. The plane landed - and Michael came into the passageway, as I expected. But he was not alone - Mr. Ward and Mr. Chan were with him. I was too unhappy - ‘I will have no scene here,’ I said, so I let him pass. Then I started up the back stairs again - my place was above - and I figured how I would send Sing to bring Michael to me there. But on the stairs -“

  “Ah, yes - on the stairs,” nodded Charlie.

  “I - I paused to weep, Monsieur. I was so very unhappy. I had known from the sound how close Michael had come to the house - reckless, a fool - to impress that woman, with whom he was always infatuated -“

  “Bologny,” interrupted her husband.

  “You were - you know it. But I will say no more of the dead. I wept quietly for a moment, then I dried my eyes and started again up the stairs. It was then I heard the shot - loud, unexpected, clear. That - that is all.”

  Chan turned to Holt. “The little object, please, which you found embedded in study carpet.”

  “Oh - oh, yes.” The sheriff found it and turned it over. Charlie held it out to the woman. “Have you, by any chance, ever seen this pin before?” he inquired.

  She glanced at it. “Never, Monsieur.”

  Chan showed it to her husband, closely studying his face as he did so. “You - Mr. Ireland. Have you seen it before?”

  “Me? No. Why should I?”

  Charlie put it in his pocket. “Long routine business,” he remarked. “But it comes shortly now to a finish. One person alone remains -“

  “I know.” Leslie Beaton got up and stood, facing him. Tall, slender and appealing, she seemed at first glance quite helpless and lost. But - thought Chan - a competent look in those deep eyes of hers. Not for nothing had she cared for a spineless, artistic brother; she had learned, meanwhile
, to take care of herself.

  “I’m awful sorry about this,” Don Holt said. And looked it.

  “Don’t worry,” the girl replied. She flashed him a friendly smile. “These things will happen, I imagine, even to the kindest-looking of sheriffs. You will want to know of my actions here tonight, Mr. Chan. I’ll be as brief as I can -“

  “But you needn’t stand,” Holt protested. He picked up a large chair in one hand, and tossed it casually into position for her.

  “Thank you,” she remarked. “Well, Mr. Chan - when we heard the airplane over the lake, I was the first out of this room. I got my brother’s overcoat, put it on and ran out to the pier. I went to the end and watched the plane approaching. It was a lovely thing - if I hadn’t been - well, like Cecile - a bit unhappy, I could have been terribly thrilled. Doctor Swan appeared presently, and we watched it together. We had - a little chat, and then he went back to the house. I believe he met you just outside. I - I stayed where I was.”

  “Ah, yes,” Chan nodded. “For how long?”

  “I watched the airplane circle over the house -“

  “You saw Landini on the balcony, perhaps?”

  “No - the trees came together there - I couldn’t see the study windows. But I saw Mr. Ireland circling, and then I saw him come down somewhere in the rear. By that time I was thoroughly chilled, so I ran back to the living room. Hugh and Mr. Dinsdale were here together. I imagined we would be starting back to the Tavern as soon as Ellen had gone, so I ran up the stairs to the bedroom where our wraps were.”

  “One of the rooms next to the study where Landini died?” Chan suggested.

  She shivered slightly, but went on. “Yes - of course. I sat down at the dressing-table to powder my nose - rearrange my hair - when suddenly, in that next room, I heard a shot -“

  “One moment,” Chan cut in, “pardon so much. But you heard first - what? A struggle?”

  “No - nothing.”

  “But voices, perhaps?”

  “Nothing at all, Mr. Chan. You see, there is no door connecting the rooms.”

  “Ah, I see,” Chan replied. “Continue, please.”

  “Well - I just heard this shot. And - I sat there. I couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened. Then I heard people running along the hall, crowding into the study. And I followed them. That’s - that’s all.”