The Black Camel

by The Black Camel [lit]

  "If what?"

  "Nothing."

  "You thought it would be better if my investigation went no further."

  "Oh, not at all."

  "Something came out in that conversation with your ex-wife which you feared this man had overheard. Something you want suppressed."

  "You have a keen imagination, Inspector."

  "Also, I have a custom to discover facts which some people want to hide. Your move has been to this moment successful - but you and I have not finished with each other, Mr. Fyfe."

  "I am at your service at any time, sir."

  "Thank you so much, but I hope the next time we meet your service will be of more value to my humble self." He looked at Smith. "As for you, though I am desolated by acute pain to make so rude a remark, I believe you mix plenty falsehood with your truth."

  The beach-comber shrugged. "There you go - judging a man by his clothes again."

  "Not by your clothes, which are silent, but by your tongue, which speaks," Charlie told him. "Mr. Spencer, will you kindly take this man to station house and make record of his finger-prints."

  "So many attentions," Smith put in. "I only hope they don't turn my head."

  "After which," Chan continued, "you may release him - for time being."

  "All right, Charlie," Spencer said.

  "One other thing. Pause a moment while I introduce to you all people in this room." Gravely he went through that somewhat lengthy ceremony. "You have also seen butler and cook. There is in addition a maid, whom I ask that you pause and make note of on your way out. You will speed from station without delay to Pier Seven, from which the boat Oceanic sails for coast at midnight. No person you have seen in this house is to sail on that boat. You understand?"

  "Sure, Charlie - I'll attend to it," Spencer nodded.

  Jaynes stepped forward. "I'd like to remind you that my luggage is aboard that ship - some of it in the hold -"

  Charlie nodded. "How fortunate you spoke of that. Mr. Spencer, kindly see that all effects in stateroom belonging to Mr. Jaynes are put ashore in your care. Arrange for such as lie in hold to be guarded for the gentleman at San Francisco dock. Explain he is detained by important business and may be in Honolulu for some time. Is that satisfactory, Mr. Jaynes?"

  "It's damned unsatisfactory," the Britisher growled, "but I presume I shall have to make the best of it."

  "All you can do," nodded Charlie. "Kashimo, you will accompany Mr. Spencer down-town. Your passionate labors in this house are ended for the night. You retire in glory - and if you come back through unexpected window, you retire for ever. Keep same in mind."

  The apprentice detective nodded, and went out after Spencer and the beach-comber. Robert Fyfe stepped forward.

  "Is there any necessity for my staying any longer?" he inquired.

  Charlie studied him thoughtfully. "I think not. You may go along. You and I will talk together when I have more leisure."

  "Any time, Inspector." Fyfe went to the curtains, and held them open. "I am stopping at the Waioli Hotel, on Fort Street," he added. "Drop in at your convenience, won't you? Good night." He went into the hall, where Spencer could be heard talking with the maid. The door slammed behind him, and a second later, the two policemen and Smith also departed.

  Charlie stood regarding the tired group in the living-room. "Accept my advice and take heart," he said. "We give Mr. Spencer generous handicap on journey to pier, and then I find great joy releasing this company at last. While we are waiting, there are one or two matters. Since first I spoke with you, it has been found necessary to alter views. Then hour of tragedy was thought certain at two minutes past eight. Now we must advance and say, dreadful event happened some time between twelve minutes past eight and the half-hour. Eighteen minutes there - eighteen important minutes. Each of us must ask himself: What was I doing in those eighteen minutes?"

  He paused. His eyes were bright, his manner quite keen and alive - for him. The Chinese are at their best at night; it is their favorite time. But he was alone in his vigor, the others were exhausted and drooping, the makeup of the women stood out, unnatural and far from pleasing, against the pallor of their weariness.

  "Eighteen important minutes," Chan repeated. "Miss Dixon, Miss Julie and Mr. Bradshaw disported gaily in breakers, visiting beach occasionally. On that beach Mrs. Ballou sat and idly passed time until dinner. For final ten of those minutes, Mr. Ballou wandered about, no one can say where -"

  "I can say where," Ballou cut in. "I came into this room - the butler will verify that. I strolled in here and smoked a cigarette he gave me."

  "He remained with you while you smoked it?"

  "No - he didn't. He lighted it for me, and went out. When he returned, I was sitting in the same chair -"

  "You wish me to note that, eh?" Charlie smiled.

  "I don't care whether you note it or not."

  Charlie took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his brow. The tropic night was beginning to live up to its reputation.

  "I turn now to the four gentlemen whose alibis have been so rudely shattered. I know where they were at two minutes past eight, but after that -"

  "Take me first," said Tarneverro. "You saw me go to join those two people in the lounge of the hotel - they are old friends of mine from Australia. We remained there for a few minutes after you left, and then I suggested that we go out on the lanai that faces the palm court. We did so, and for a time sat and chatted. When I finally looked at my watch, it was precisely eight-thirty. I remarked on the hour and said I was sorry, but I had to go along. We all went inside, I ran up to get my hat, and when I came back to the lobby, I happened on you near the door."

  Charlie studied his face. "Your old friends will be willing to swear to all this?"

  "I can see no reason why they shouldn't. They know it's true."

  Chan smiled. "I congratulate you, Mr. Tarneverro."

  "I congratulate myself, Inspector. You may recall that I told you I had another tree."

  "Mr. Jaynes," said Chan, turning to the Britisher.

  Jaynes shrugged hopelessly. "I have no alibi," he said. "During those eighteen minutes, I was wandering along the beach, alone. Make what you wish of it. I didn't come down here."

  "Mr. Van Horn - you did come down here?" Charlie addressed the picture actor.

  "I did, worse luck," shrugged Van Horn. "The first time in a long and honorable career that I ever got to a party ahead of the hour set. It will be a lesson to me - I can tell you that."

  "It was, I believe, eight-fifteen when Jessop admitted you?"

  "About that time - yes. He told me that the party - or what there was of it - had moved to the beach. I went out on the lawn. I saw a light in a building which Jessop told me was a summer-house, and I thought of going there. I wish to heaven I had. But I heard voices down by the water, so I went there instead. I sat down by Rita Ballou - but you know all that."

  Chan nodded. "Only one remains. Mr. Martino?"

  The director frowned. "Like Huntley and Mr. Jaynes," he said, "I have no alibi worth mentioning. You wrecked me along with them when you smashed that eight-two theory." He took a handkerchief from a side pocket and mopped his forehead. "After Jaynes left me and started down the beach, I sat in one of the hotel swings near the water. I should have been busy getting myself a good alibi, I suppose, but I'm not so clever as Mr. Tarneverro here." He gave the fortune-teller an unfriendly look. "So I just sat alone - the scene looked rather good to me. I wished I could get it into a picture - the purple starry sky, the yellow lamps along the waterfront, the black hulk of Diamond Head. A picture in color - we'll have 'em that way before long. I amused myself thinking up a possible story - you can't depend on authors for anything. Presently I looked at my watch. It was eight-twenty-five, so I went to my room to brush up and get my hat. When I came down I met you and Tarneverro here, and heard the news of Miss Fane's murder."

  Charlie stood looking thoughtfully at the director. Suddenly he was pushed aside a
s Tarneverro strode forward.

  "That's a nasty scratch on your forehead, Martino," the fortune-teller cried.

  Startled, the director put his hand to his brow, and on one finger, as he took it away, he noted a trace of red.

  "By jove," he said, "that's odd -"

  "You'd better turn over to Inspector Chan the handkerchief you just replaced in your pocket."

  "What handkerchief?" Martino produced the one which he had recently passed across his forehead. "Oh, this!"

  "I will take it, please," said Charlie. He spread the white square of silk on a table and brought out his magnifying-glass. For a moment he studied the center of the square, then ran his fingers lightly across it. He looked up.

  "A queer thing, Mr. Martino," he remarked. "There exist, caught in mesh of this cloth, a few thin splinters of glass. How would you explain that?"

  Martino rose quickly, and with a serious face bent over the table. "I can't explain it," he said. "I can't even explain how that handkerchief came to be in my pocket."

  Chan regarded him intently. "It is not your property?" he inquired.

  "It certainly isn't," the director replied. "I carry two handkerchiefs with my evening clothes. One here" - he indicated his breast pocket above which the ends of a handkerchief were showing - "and another in my hip pocket." He produced a second. "Certainly I'd have no use for a third. I just happened to reach into my side pocket, my hand touched this, and I used it. But I never put it there, and it isn't mine."

  "A likely story," Tarneverro sneered.

  "My dear Tarneverro," the director said, "when you've made as many pictures as I have, you'll realize that the truth often sounds less probable than fiction." He picked up the little square of silk and handed it to Charlie. "By the way, there's a laundry mark in one corner of that."

  "I know," Chan nodded. He stood for a moment, looking at the tiny letter B done with black ink on the silk border. He glanced over at Wilkie Ballou. The planter stared back at him, and taking a handkerchief from his own pocket, casually mopped his brow.

  Chapter X

  "SHELAH FROM DENNY"

  Shrugging his broad shoulders, Charlie turned back to Martino. The director's face was even more crimson than usual, and he was breathing hard.

  "Do you wish to make statement," Chan asked, "as to moment when you think this object was placed on your person?"

  Martino considered. "When we were leaving the dining-room a while back," he said, "we were all crowded together round the door. I thought then that I felt a little tug at my pocket."

  "Just who was near you at that instant?"

  "It's hard to say. Everybody was there together. The matter is serious, and I don't like to guess." He paused, and glanced at the fortune-teller. "I do recall that Mr. Tarneverro wasn't far away."

  "Is that an accusation?" asked Tarneverro coldly.

  "Not precisely. I can't be sure -"

  "You'd like nothing better than to be sure," the fortune-teller suggested.

  Martino laughed. "You've hit it there, my friend. I haven't much love for you, and you know it. If I'd had my way, you'd have been run out of Hollywood long ago."

  "Failing that, you've gone about secretly warning the women against me."

  "What do you mean, secretly? I've done it openly, and you know it. I've told them to keep away from you -"

  "Why?"

  "I don't like the look in your eyes, my friend. What was it you told poor Shelah this morning? What did she tell you?"

  "That is something I'd not be likely to discuss with you. So you sat on the beach by the water, did you?"

  "Oh, don't get too cocky over that alibi of yours," Martino cried. "How did you happen to have it so pat and ready? Reading the future again, eh?"

  "Gentlemen, gentlemen," Charlie protested. "We are arriving precisely nowhere by this. I perceive that nerves are very much up on edge, and I am glad to push open doors and put quick end to investigation. You are all free to depart."

  There was an instant dash for the hall. Chan followed.

  "Just one word to add," he said, "though I am certain that by now the buzz of my voice in your ears must be most tiresome sound. But please remember - you rest on small island in the midst of broad Pacific ocean. Attempt by any one of you to go aboard ship will be instantly known to us, and regarded with dark suspicious eye. Stay on, I beg of you, and enjoy beauties of spot, on which subject Mr. Bradshaw will be happy to make oration for you any time, any place."

  "That's right," the boy nodded. "Loaf on a palm-fringed shore and forget your troubles. Somewhere winter is raging -"

  "In July?" Van Horn inquired.

  "Sure - at the South Pole, for example. Put Hollywood out of your thoughts. Remember - Hawaii has the climate California thinks it has."

  The door closed behind Ballou and his wife. Van Horn, Martino and Jaynes followed promptly. Bradshaw resumed to the living-room, where Julie and Diana had remained, leaving the fortune-teller and Charlie in the hall. Tarneverro picked up his hat.

  "Inspector," he remarked, "you have my sympathy. You are up against a puzzling case."

  "Also I have your help," Chan reminded him. "The thought consoles me."

  Tarneverro shook his head. "I'm afraid you over-estimate my powers. But whatever they are, they are ranged on your side. When am I to see you again?"

  "I will call on you to-morrow morning," Chan answered. "We will have good long talk. Perhaps, thinking deeply into matter over night, each of us will have new ideas to offer."

  "I shall try to supply my share," nodded Tarneverro, and went out. For a moment Charlie stood looking at the door through which he had gone, then turning, he went into the living-room.

  "Miss Dixon," he said, "may I make further request of you? Will you ascend stairs with me and point out various rooms naming the persons to whom they have been assigned? I still have a little searching to do before repose."

  "Of course," nodded the actress, "and speaking of repose, I hope you'll search my room first. I feel all in after this dreadful evening."

  She and Charlie disappeared. With a forlorn gesture, Julie sank into a chair.

  "Poor kid!" said Mr. Bradshaw.

  "Oh, Jimmy - it has been a dreadful evening, hasn't it?"

  "It surely has. Think, Julie, think. You were closer to Shelah Fane than any one else. Have you no idea who did - this terrible thing?"

  She shook her head. "I can't imagine. Of course, Shelah had enemies - all successful people have - she was envied, perhaps even hated. But I never dreamed any one hated her as much as this. It's just unbelievable, that's all."

  The boy sat down beside her. "Let's forget it for a while. How about you? What are you going to do now?"

  "Oh - I suppose I'll go back where I came from."

  "Where did you come from? You haven't told me."

  "From a theatrical boardinghouse in Chicago - I was traveling with my mother when she - she left me. Stage people, you see, all my folks - father too. Mother called San Francisco home, though she seldom saw it. But she was born there - so many good actors were, you know. And she -"

  "She was one of the best, I guess," said Jimmy Bradshaw.

  "I thought so. I've got a grandmother there now - seventy-two, but she goes trouping occasionally - she's such a darling, Jimmy. I think I'll go to her, and get some sort of job - I could make good in an office, I believe. Grandmother would be glad to have me; we're all that's left of - us."

  Bradshaw pulled himself together. "If no one else wants to speak, may I say a few words about Hawaii? Everywhere we have poetry and glamour. The climate breeds happiness and laughter, a natural reflection of the sunlight, the rainbows and the purple hills. Here there are no sunstrokes and no snow. Honolulu has its message of beauty for every heart. As for -"

  "Jimmy, what in the world -"

  "As for the people, where nature is kind man can not help but be. You will find -"

  "I don't get you, Jimmy."

  "It's simple enough. I've s
old this place to fifty thousand tourists, and now I want to sell it to you. As a substitute for grandmother, you see. No doubt she's a darling, as you say. Maybe I'm not, but I'm young yet. For of course it isn't just Honolulu I'm selling. I'm thrown in, you know. How about it, Julie? A little bungalow nestling under two mortgages and a bougainvillea vine -"

  "You - you mean you love me, Jimmy?" the girl asked.

  "Oh, lord - did I omit that line? I shall have to rewrite the whole darn piece. Naturally, I love you. Who wouldn't? It may not be the most fitting time for me to say all this, but I don't want you to think that I've fallen into the habit of putting things off, just because I live in the lazy latitudes. I'm crazy about you, and before you write grandmother to come down and meet your boat - she might be away trouping anyhow - I want you to give a thought to Hawaii - and to me. Will you do it, Julie?"