The 24th Horse

by Hugh Pentecost

  “I like him,” Bradley said. His fingers scratched behind the dog’s ear, and Squire seemed about to swoon with delight. “About this place … ”

  “Why, that’s simple. I had a chance to buy it at a very reasonable figure. I’d always wanted a farm. I decided—”

  “Where did you get the money?”

  “Now look, Bradley … ”

  “You didn’t save it out of your pay as a detective. You were born in Brooklyn. You were on the force when you were twenty-two. You’ve never had any money. Yet you were able to buy this farm. Nine thousand, cash on the line, according to the local real-estate man.

  Williams moistened his lips. “My wife … ” he began.

  “Your wife was Mary McInnes of Rahway, New Jersey. She was one of eleven children. Her father was a plumber, and when he died he left just about enough to pay his debts and bury him.”

  Williams rose slowly to his feet, still gripping the back of the chair, “I don’t believe that you have the right to cross-question me about my private business, Inspector. Am I charged with being in the rackets?”

  “Not yet. Sit down.”

  Williams dropped back unto the chair. Beads of perspiration glittered on his forehead.

  “Let’s be sensible about this, Earl. Somebody gave you the money to buy this place. I suggest that your benefactor was one Guy Severied. I suggest that he wasn’t actuated by a philanthropic whim. I suggest you were paid to be silent about facts you had unearthed in the Pelham case.”

  Williams groaned under his breath.

  “If there was a crime, Earl — if Dorothy Pelham was murdered — then by keeping silent you have become an accessory after the fact. You could go to the chair for it.”

  “There was no crime!” Williams cried. “I swear it!”

  Bradley waited, his gaze unwavering.

  “I swear to that, Bradley. If you examined my record, you’ll know there wasn’t a single black mark against me. You’ll know that I had a high rating, that my honesty was never questioned. I never covered a crime in my life. I never took a bribe.”

  “This farm was just a present … given to you in gratitude for having failed to find out anything about Dorothy Pelham? It won’t wash, Earl.”

  “But it’s true!”

  “Ah, then you admit the way you handled the Pelham case resulted in your receiving a large gift of cash!”

  “But I tell you there was no evidence! Ask Bonesteel, the private dick who took over after we gave up the case.”

  “I have. He agrees with you. But he came on the case after you, Earl. It’s possible you had destroyed any evidence there was by that time.”

  “No, no, no!” Williams raised his hands, held them hard against his temples.

  Bradley sighed. “Let’s have it, Earl. You know what happened to Mrs. Pelham. You’ve been paid to keep quiet about it. Come clean … and perhaps there may be a chance for you to stay here on your farm.”

  “A … a chance to … to stay here?”

  “God damn it, man, this is no game! If you refuse to help me you’re coming back to town tonight, charged with conspiracy and possibly murder!”

  Williams pressed his forehead against the back of the chair. “Oh, God,” he murmured. “Oh, God!”

  “Well, Earl?”

  Williams looked up, his eyes stricken. “There … there’s nothing I can tell you, Bradley. Except this. There was no crime in connection with Dorothy Pelham’s death.”

  “Then she is dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  “Yes,”

  “Then why … ”

  “Bradley, I have concealed facts, but I have concealed them with an absolutely clear conscience. I’d do it again. It wasn’t the money. I would have kept shut if there hadn’t been a dime involved.”

  “All right, Earl, I’ll accept that.” Bradley leaned forward. “But two people have been murdered in the last forty-eight hours because they also knew that secret. You and Severied may be next. You haven’t the right to keep that secret any longer! Is that clear?”

  “I have to,” said Williams wearily. “Bradley, this farm is my life now. My daughter has gone through college and is making a success in business, My wife had an operation a year ago. These things have been made possible because of the gratitude of a friend. I’m not letting him down now, Bradley. I’m not letting him down, whatever you choose to — ”

  “You’re a sucker Earl! If you don’t talk, you’ll endanger the life of your friend. That’s not gratitude … it’s stupidity!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Bradley stood up. “So am I. Get your hat and coat. You’re coming back to New York with me.”

  “All right,” said Williams. “If that’s the way it has to be.” He started to rise from his chair.

  “Forget it, Earl,” said a voice from behind him.

  Guy Severied walked out of the dark corridor and into the warmth of the kitchen. He looked tired and disheveled. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. His hands, as he extracted a cigarette from a silver case, weren’t steady.

  Bradley gave him a fleeting smile. He was obviously not surprised. “Mercy,” he said, “I thought I’d have to start working Earl over before you’d come out of that hallway.”

  “You knew I was there?” Guy asked.

  “You shouldn’t leave Racquet Club Specials burning in country kitchens.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Guy. “There’s no reason Earl should take the rap for this.”

  “He can’t help himself,” said Bradley. “It’s a serious rap. When a policeman conspires to conceal a crime …”

  “He’s told you over and over that there was no crime!” Guy said.

  “What did happen?”

  Guy shook his head. “No, dice, Inspector.”

  “I don’t want to arrest you, Severied,” Bradley said.

  “I can imagine!” Guy said. He gave Bradley a wry smile. “Policemen just hate to make arrests.”

  “The reason is I can’t charge you with murder, so presently you’d both be out on bail. The murderer will then know where you are. That clear?”

  “Quite!” Guy’s face was hard. “So why arrest us? It isn’t going to do any good, you know. We’re not going to talk. Not yet.”

  “When?” said Bradley sharply.

  “Inspector, you’re pretty shrewd,” Guy said, “I didn’t believe you’d come so close to the answers. Especially in such a short time. It’s that cleverness, Mr. Bradley, that makes me determined not to talk. Maybe you’ll solve the case without us. Until I’m sure you can’t … ” Guy shrugged.

  “Do you know who murdered Gloria and her father, Severied?”

  “No,” Guy said.

  “If it were Pelham, would you try to shield him?”

  “No,” said Guy without hesitation, “You know what was in the letter Gloria wrote and left with Linda?”

  “I know what Gloria said she wrote.”

  “From reading that letter would the murderer know about Earl Williams?”

  Guy whistled, “Nice point, Inspector. Neat. I’d missed it. Of course he knows … ”

  “Then I’m arresting you,” said Bradley. “Because you’re not safe here either. Get your things.”

  “But, Bradley,” Williams protested.

  “Sorry, I want you both alive.”

  ***

  Afterward Bradley blamed himself. If he hadn’t been so concerned with thinking of some means of persuading Guy to talk, he would have paid more attention. The dog, Squire, really tried to warn him.

  While Guy and Williams were getting into their things.

  Squire stalked over to the door, hackles raised, and began sniffing, and growling at the crack. But Bradley didn’t notice … at least not consciously.

  “Do we go in irons?” Guy asked, as he came back from the hall.

  “I don’t own any,” said Bradley. “Damn it, man, why don’t you talk? Can’t you see, once I k
now, there’ll be no use in more killings?”

  “Sorry, Inspector.” Guy was sardonic. “I’ve been at some pains and expense and personal misery to keep this secret for five years. I’m not giving yet. Not yet. Not till I know it’s the only way.”

  Williams joined them and they went out onto the back porch, locking the whining Squire inside. They walked down the path, Williams lighting the way with a flash. Then it happened.

  There were several sharp reports … tongues of flame stabbed the darkness. The torch dropped from Williams’ hand and buried itself in the snow. Guy cried out.

  Bradley made a dive for the torch and recovered it. For an instant he saw Guy down on his knees, clutching at his left side. Then he ran. Before he reached the corner of the house. he heard a motor spring to life … the whir of chains as a car started quickly.

  A red taillight was careening down the drive as Bradley sprang into his own car. He stepped on the starter button. Nothing happened. He got out, lifted the engine hood.

  “The son of a bitch!” he said.

  The torch revealed a mess of twisted wires, ripped from their moorings.

  Chapter 19

  Williams was whimpering as he tried to haul Guy toward the porch.

  “For God’s sake, Earl, get hold of yourself,” Bradley said, Then the flash picked up Williams and the unconscious Guy, and Bradley saw why Williams had dropped the light in the first place. He held his right hand close to his stomach, smashed and bleeding.

  Inside the house Squire was trying to tear the door down. Bradley took Guy under the arms and pulled him up on the porch. Williams fumbled with his key, left-handed, and got the door open. As they dragged Guy into the kitchen, a woman, in a quilted dressing gown and with paper curlers in her hair, joined them,

  “My wife,” Williams said.

  “Telephone the nearest doctor,” Bradley ordered.

  Mrs. Williams proved far more efficient in the crisis than her husband. The doctor was phoned; blankets were brought to cover Guy. Bradley did not want to move him farther until the doctor came. The murderer’s bullet had struck him in the left side.

  Bradley undid his vest and shirt, and swore softly. “You’re all so God damned noble!” he said, Then he remembered his car, “Get a garage-man out here. Have him bring a car I can hire in case he can’t get mine rolling.”

  Williams phoned. Sweat was running down his face. His hand was hurting him cruelly. He came back to Bradley, who was staring down at Guy’s white face,

  “They were waiting for you, Bradley,” he said,

  “For me!” Bradley was explosive. “Not me, Williams. For you and Severied! You’ve got to talk, Earl. There’s no end in this if you don’t.”

  “I can’t, Bradley. Not till Mr. Severied says okay.”

  “If he dies, by Jesus, you’ll have him on your conscience.”

  “I’ll have to risk that.”

  Bradley paced up and down the room, chewing on the stem of his empty pipe. Mrs. Williams reappeared, silently, with a basin of warm water and bandages. She went to work on her husband’s hand. Bradley could hear the hiss of Williams’ breath as she touched the raw wound.

  “There’s something you can tell me, Earl,” Bradley said, stopping in front of Williams. “What’s the regular routine in the Missing Persons Bureau? Take the Pelham case. You investigated her home, her friends, her husband. No clues. She had walked out into the blue and vanished. Then what?”

  “We checked on Pelham … where he’d been. There was the possibility of homicide, but we couldn’t get any evidence.”

  “But there must be other routine checkups.”

  “Oh, those. We check on any accidents that may have happened. We follow up motor smashes … injuries in the subway or on buses or ferries. If it’s summer, we check the beaches for drownings. If there’ve been any explosions or public disasters of any kind, we follow up the injured.”

  “About Dorothy Pelham?” said Bradley grimly.

  Williams shook his head. “We were never able to connect her with … with anything.” He looked away.

  Bradley stared at him, impotent fury in his eyes. “So you’re still being a little gentleman! What the hell, Earl? The woman’s dead! Nothing can hurt her now.”

  “Bradley, for the love of heaven, see how I’m fixed. It’s up to him.” Williams jerked a thumb at Guy. “It’s got to be up to him.”

  “What did Jerry Bonesteel mean when he said Dorothy Pelham was fond of the boys?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “Was she some kind of a nymph?”

  “I never came across anything of that sort,” Williams said. “I don’t know what Jerry was talking about.”

  Mrs. Williams stood up. She had finished wrapping a crude bandage around her husband’s hand. “Mr. Bradley, Earl has always been a square shooter,” she said. “If he thinks his loyalty lies with his friend, nothing in the world will make him betray it.”

  “All right!” said Bradley. “All right!”

  The doctor and the garage man arrived simultaneously. The mechanic reported no real damage to Bradley’s car. The connections had been pulled loose, but there was nothing broken. He’d have it running in ten minutes.

  The doctor and Bradley carried Guy to a front bedroom. The doctor examined the wound. Finally he said, “I think he’ll make it, Inspector. It’s nasty. Bullet tore quite a hole. Hit a rib, though. I don’t think anything vital has been injured.”

  “Hospital case?”

  “Good God, yes. Infection is the greatest danger.”

  Bradley went back into the kitchen and pulled on his overcoat. Williams followed him, looking miserable.

  “I wish I could help, Inspector. I know how it is how you feel. I’ve been held out on in my time. But I feel better than I did when you first came.”

  “So?”

  “I was afraid it was … was … ”

  “Severied?”

  Williams nodded. “It put me in a hell of a spot. In a way, getting shot has … has taken a load off my mind.”

  “Glad you’ve got something to console you,” snapped Bradley. “I haven’t.”

  “If there’s anything else I can do … ”

  “Else?” Bradley laughed. “Maybe you’ve served your purpose, Earl. Acting as a target. Desperate fellow, our murderer.”

  “You think he’ll come back here?”

  “No. I don’t. He must have guessed, when he saw me taking you both back, that you hadn’t spilled. But he knows I’m breathing right down his neck. I think my name’s up next.”

  “You’ve got ideas, Bradley?”

  “I’m lousy with ’em,” Bradley said.

  ***

  “You’re still up,” Bradley said.

  Celia Devon opened the door wider to admit him. “I didn’t know there were any curfew laws, Mr. Bradley.”

  “It’s four in the morning,” Bradley said.

  “I’m past the age when I concern myself with beauty sleep.”

  “Where’s Miss Prayne?”

  “Asleep, thank the Lord. I packed her off with a heavy sedative early in the evening. She was all in.”

  There was no friendliness in Bradley’s tone. “Where have you been yourself all evening?”

  “Here, Inspector. Aren’t you being just a little grim?”

  “We nearly had two more corpses on our hands tonight.” said Bradley. “We are not amused.”

  “Inspector!”

  “So Miss Prayne has been dead to the world since early this evening?”

  “Since about nine o’clock.”

  “Where’s your car? It’s not downstairs in the school where it belongs.”

  Miss Devon’s lower lip caught between her teeth for a moment. Then she said, “You’d better come in and sit down. I’ll fix you something hot to drink.”

  “Thanks. My social life has been checked for the moment. The car. Where is it?”

  “Johnny has it,” Miss Devon said.

 
“Since when?”

  “He took it about six o’clock this evening.”

  “What for?”

  “He … he went to Delaware, Inspector.”

  “Delaware?”

  “Those kids are still whistling in the dark, Mr. Bradley. They think they may find a suspect for you outside our little lot. Johnny’s getting a list of the people who were at the shooting lodge last week.”

  “He should have asked permission to leave town. Anyone go with him?”

  “No. You didn’t give orders … ”

  “Are Johnny and Pelham at all intimate?”

  “Why … why, no, I mean, they always seemed to get along well enough. Johnny’s much younger.”

  “It’s the matter of Pelham’s gun,” said Bradley. “It was used again tonight. Somebody in a car. Miss Devon?”

  Miss Devon evaded his eyes. “Everybody owns cars these days.”

  “Or you can hire them to drive yourself.”

  “Incidentally,” said Miss Devon, “I am a licensed driver, and Barney Oldfield tips his hat to me when we pass.”

  “Mercy,” said Bradley. For a moment his eyes softened. “Don’t tell me you’re in the red-herring business too, Miss Devon?”

  Miss Devon frowned. “If the damn fool would get the idea of mass killings out of his head, I’d be half inclined to … to … ”

  “Give him a break.”

  She nodded.

  “That’s a hard-boiled attitude, Miss Devon.”

  “Blackmail ranks high on my slime list,” said Miss Devon cooly. “Gloria and Douglas got what was coming to them.”

  “You haven’t asked me who tonight’s victims were,” Bradley said.

  “Haven’t I? I took it for granted, I’m afraid. Of course, it was Guy. And you, too, perhaps?”

  “Guy will live, if it interests you.”

  “It does.”

  “The other victim was a man named Williams. Shot in the hand.”

  “A dairy farmer?” asked Miss Devon calmly.

  “Madam, I think I will come in and sit down after all,” said Bradley.

  There were still hot coals in the grate.

  Bradley sat down on the couch, but he did not take off his coat.

  “If you won’t have something hot, how about brandy?” Miss Devon asked,