by Parnell Hall
“I guess you’re not familiar with guns,” Veronica said. “But then, this is something only an expert would know. For your information, young man, this is an adapter. It is used to take a bullet fired from one gun and allow a person to shoot it from another. In this case, the adapter is just the size to allow a .45-caliber spent bullet to be repacked in a shell casing, fitted into the adapter and refired from the barrel of a shotgun. The bullet, of course, would retain only the markings from the original gun.” Veronica shrugged. “Which is of course the whole point.”
Vaulding blinked. “A shotgun?”
“Yes, of course. I would imagine the murderer used one from Mr. Timberlaine’s collection. There were several in the room. And a shotgun is such an awkward weapon—to conceal, I mean—why run the risk of being seen going in or out with it?”
Vaulding stared at her. “What are you saying?”
Veronica cocked her head. “You have the wrong gun. For the murder weapon, I mean. The real murder weapon is most likely still hanging on Mr. Timberlaine’s wall. I’m afraid the police overlooked it. Not their fault, really. They weren’t looking for a shotgun, you see.”
There came the sound of a commotion in the courtroom.
Vaulding turned his head just in time to see one of his witnesses, Melvin Burdett, practically climbing over people in an attempt to push his way into the aisle.
“Officer, stop that man!” Vaulding yelled.
But the court officer was not quick enough. Before he could reach him, Melvin Burdett broke free. But, instead of making for the door, Burdett suddenly wheeled around, swung his fist in a surprisingly swift uppercut and decked Henry Crumbly, who was headed up the aisle. Crumbly went down in a heap just as the court officer grabbed and held Burdett.
On the other side of the courtroom, another man slid unobtrusively from his seat and headed for the door. But despite the sensational disruption of Crumbly and Burdett, the courtroom was not too crowded for his departure to go unnoticed.
“Oh, look,” Veronica Dreisson said. She pointed at the retreating figure, cocked her head, smiled and said sweetly but distinctly, “Why, there’s the nice young man who showed me the guns.”
48
ROBERT VAULDING WAS TORN in so many directions his plight was almost comical. When court broke up he suddenly found himself with an immediate and pressing need to deal with the defendant, the suspects, the media and Steve Winslow, though not necessarily in that order. Deftly tap dancing, he left Russ Timberlaine in the custody of the court officers pending dismissal, turned the processing of Henry Crumbly and Martin Kessington over to Lieutenant Sanders, sicked the press on Veronica Dreisson and escaped to his inner office where he had asked Steve Winslow to meet him, only to discover Steve had brought along Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin too. This was almost more than the poor man could deal with—he didn’t want them there, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to throw them out.
Aside from that, Vaulding was elated. “It’s incredible,” he said. “Absolutely incredible. But listen, there isn’t much time. I have to make a statement to the press.”
“Fine, let’s wrap things up,” Steve said.
Vaulding shot a glance at Mark and Tracy. “We need to talk freely.”
“We can,” Steve said. “Anything you say to me they’re gonna hear. They’ve been in this case all the way, and they’re gonna be here for the wrap-up. If they go, I go.”
“They stay,” Vaulding said quickly, holding up his hands. “Look, I took a chance on you and it paid off. So we have a deal, right?”
“Sure we have a deal,” Steve said. “But I want you to know where it came from. The case would have broken the same way whether we had a deal or not. I told you to go into court and ask Veronica certain questions and play it aggrieved. You did and it worked. If you hadn’t agreed, you’d have gone back into court, put Veronica on the stand and questioned her anyway. And whatever you asked her, she’d have managed to pull the same stunt. The only difference is, if it had happened that way, we wouldn’t be talking now.”
“Right,” Vaulding said. “And I appreciate it. And there’s no reason we shouldn’t go out together to meet the press.”
Steve shook his head. “That’s your bag, not mine. Your reward for playin’ ball. I’m just happy to get my client off.”
“Fine,” Vaulding said. “Now please, what do I tell ’em? I mean, all I had was your solemn assurance that gun didn’t commit the murder and if I questioned Veronica that way the case would blow up in court. Well, you’re right on both counts. But you could have given me a little more.”
“I didn’t have a little more,” Steve said. “All I knew was exactly that. The gun ballistics said committed the murder couldn’t have done it. Plus Veronica’s assurance some of Timberlaine’s guns were fakes.”
“How did that add up?” Vaulding said.
“All right,” Steve said. “Last night, all I knew was I had a problem with the ballistics evidence regarding the gun. The gun could not have committed the crime. Unfortunately, I was the only person in the position to confirm this. You and the cops would never have taken my word for that, and who could blame you? I could have come to you and told you that in utter confidence and you’d have thrown me out on my ear. But I knew that gun hadn’t been used to commit the crime.
“That’s where Veronica Dreisson comes in. Faced with a conflict of evidence, namely the identification of the murder gun, I asked Mark Taylor here to get me a gun expert. He brought me Veronica Dreisson. At first I was skeptical of the choice, but she proved me wrong. The woman is sharp, no doubt about it. I told her the basic problem, challenged her to solve it, and damned if she didn’t. The problem, of course, was how does a fatal bullet match up with a gun that was nowhere near the scene of the crime at the time of the murder. Which didn’t stop Veronica for one minute. Aside from collecting guns, the woman is a mystery buff. That sort of question was right up her alley. She said, ‘With an adapter, of course.’ It turns out it’s very simple. You fire a bullet from the gun into a bucket of water or a target or whatever. Then you retrieve the bullet, and, like she said in court, pack it in a shell casing, stick it in the adapter and fire it from a shotgun. It will of course retain all the rifling marks from the barrel of the gun from which it was originally fired.”
“And Veronica went out to Timberlaine’s to look for this adapter?”
“Sure.”
“Wasn’t that a long shot? No pun intended. But wouldn’t you figure if such a thing existed, the murderer would have disposed of it?”
“Yes. In all instances except one. Timberlaine was a gun collector. It was entirely possible that the adapter was part of his collection. If it was, I figured the murderer would be more likely not to get rid of it. Because if Timberlaine owned it, he would know of it anyway, so discovering it would not be that big a deal. But discovering it missing would give the whole thing away.”
“Right,” Vaulding said. “But the plan? The scheme? The whole deal?”
“There you know as much as I do,” Steve said. “If I didn’t give you much to go on, it’s because I didn’t know much. I didn’t know about the parties involved until they showed themselves in court.”
“You knew about the fake guns.”
“Not until this morning,” Steve said. “You grabbed off Veronica last night. She clammed up on you and I went to bed. She called me this morning, told me about the fake guns, which is how I knew to tell you. But I really don’t know any more than you do. If I’m ahead of you it’s because I’ve had the benefit of knowing my client wasn’t guilty and the benefit of knowing that gun hadn’t committed the crime. But for what it’s worth, here’s how I dope it out.
“Timberlaine originally came to me with a substituted gun—the Pistol Pete gun that got us into this whole mess. At the time he was afraid someone would use it to frame him for a crime. The way I see it now, at the time he was wrong. The gun wasn’t substituted to frame him for anything. The gun wa
s substituted because it was a valuable gun—it was stolen, just like the other guns. Timberlaine just happened to notice this one. He brought it here and expressed his fear it might be used to frame him for a crime. So Timberlaine’s got a big mouth—he shot that theory around. That’s what gave the murderer the idea to actually do it.
“Now, we’re never really gonna know for sure unless one of the conspirators talks, but I dope it out like this. Martin Kessington and Henry Crumbly were involved in ripping off Russ Timberlaine’s gun collection—stealing valuable guns and substituting cheap imitations in their place. The joker in the piece is Jack Potter, gun expert. You recall Timberlaine’s regular expert had moved on and Jack Potter was relatively new. I’d say there were two possibilities here. One, he was involved in the scheme, or, two, he discovered it.
“I lean toward one—Potter’s involved in the ripoff, gets cold feet, wants out. Therefore becomes dangerous and expendable.
“The other, less likely, is that he discovers the substitution and has to be silenced. But then he’d go right to Timberlaine—why would he wait around to be murdered? No, the only way that would fly would be if he noticed the substitution, deduced who’d done it and tried blackmail. That I could buy. But the way I see it, in neither case were Potter’s hands clean. In a way, he kind of asked for it.
“Now, a big argument for theory number one is the fact the crime took considerable planning. Timberlaine finds the gun, shoots off his mouth, there’s been a substitution, someone’s tying to frame him for a crime. Which gives the murderer the idea. Before Timberlaine comes to my office, he gets hold of the gun, fires a bullet through it and saves the bullet.”
“Why before he comes to your office?” Vaulding said.
“Because as soon as he left my office he switched guns, remember? He put the gun I gave him in his safe-deposit box.”
“Which is how you knew it hadn’t committed the murder,” Vaulding said.
“So we know,” Steve said, “that that far in advance the murderer had an idea he might need that bullet. Which would be much more likely if Potter was a coconspirator beginning to show signs of cold feet.”
“Fine. So that’s why they killed Potter. But why frame Timberlaine?”
“Well,” Steve said, “few people like to go to jail for a crime. It’s always better to have a scapegoat in mind. And, you have to remember, Timberlaine suggested it. He kept insisting someone was going to frame him with the gun. Fine. Let’s fulfill his prophesy and frame him with the gun. No one’s gonna believe him, ’cause he’s the little boy who cried wolf.
“Particularly the way they set it up. You have to admit, that was pretty artistic. Kill Potter and leave the original Pistol Pete gun by the body. Timberlaine immediately starts screaming, ‘Frame-up, frame-up, they stole my gun to frame me with it. See, and I can prove it ’cause here’s the phony gun they left in its place.’ And he hands over that gun and swears it’s the gun he’d had with him all day long.
“And indeed he had. Only they framed him with a bullet from that gun and, surprise, surprise, it’s the murder gun.”
“Only it wasn’t,” Vaulding said.
“Right. Because Timberlaine had switched guns. Only that gun barrel had been roughed up so the ballistics expert, taken in by the class characteristics, blows it and identifies it as the murder weapon anyway.”
“But why was the gun barrel roughed up?” Vaulding said. “I mean, the murderer would want the gun identified.”
“Right,” Steve said. “But there’s the moron factor.”
Vaulding frowned. “What?”
“You may have noticed that my client is not the swiftest thing in the world—witness that whole auction thing of having Crumbly bid on the gun. Only the frame-up still has to wash. The murderer wants Timberlaine to say, ‘No, no, no, this is my gun,’ and produce it and have it turn out to be the murder weapon. But that makes Timberlaine look like a total jerk. I mean, in terms of motivation, why the hell would he do that? If he were the murderer, the only way he would turn the gun over would be if he expected it not to match the fatal bullet. If it was the fatal gun, the only way he could expect it not to match would be if he’d altered the barrel.”
“So the murderer alters the barrel to make it look like Timberlaine did?”
“Of course,” Steve said. He nodded at Tracy. “Actually, it was one of the things Tracy said that put me in the right direction.” Steve grinned. “We were discussing the fact you’d just made a damn good case for the fact I was the one who altered the gun barrel. She said if I had, I sure made a poor job of it, since they still matched up the bullet.
“That got me thinking. The murderer really had made a poor job of it. I mean, four lousy scratches. If you want to deface the barrel, you run that file up and down it pretty good. That got me thinking in the right direction. The murderer didn’t want to deface the barrel, the murderer wanted the gun and the bullet to match. The murderer just wanted to make it look like someone had defaced the barrel. That’s why the scratches weren’t that bad. But the barrel had to be scratched up or the frame-up wouldn’t work. Because of the moron factor, you see.”
“Yeah, fine,” Vaulding said. “If that’s true, why was it that gun’s barrel that was scratched up? That wasn’t the murder weapon. Why didn’t the murderer rough up the barrel at the same time he fired the bullet?”
“Because he didn’t come by the plan all at once. It was an evolving thing, you know. ‘If he claims he’s gonna be framed, let’s frame him. I’ll frame him with the bullet.’ So the murderer gets the bullet, he’s ready to make the frame-up. Then he thinks of the moron factor. ‘Hell, how do I take care of that?’ Then he thinks of the file. ‘I’ll rough it up with a file and I’ll leave the file in Timberlaine’s room, and that’ll double-dork him. The file will become a piece of evidence in itself.’ Which it did.”
“I see,” Vaulding said.
“The other thing about the file is, it was planted on Timberlaine on Friday. At least that’s when he found it. The day before the murder. That was a great touch. The guy’s in possession of the file before the murder, so if the gun barrel’s roughed up after the murder, then he must have done it. But in actuality, the barrel of the gun was roughed up at the same time the murderer planted the file. Which didn’t affect the fatal bullet, which had been shot days before that.”
“Before Timberlaine came to your office.”
“Exactly. And the murderer knew Timberlaine came to my office, and knew he had the bullets tested. That’s why it didn’t hurt to pull the stunt with the file. A few light scratches to make it look like Timberlaine tried to alter the gun, then if ballistics can still match the bullet, great, but if they can’t, no big deal. The murderer just tips the cops to the bullets Timberlaine had me test.
“Which he did. That’s why you called Donald Walcott. That was an anonymous tip, right? Telling you to ask him about Timberlaine testing the gun.”
“Yeah, right,” Vaulding said. He was standing between Steve Winslow and the door and sort of teetering back and forth. He put up his hand. “Hang on a minute,” he said, opened the door and dashed out.
“What was that all about?” Tracy said.
“Looked to me like a guy who really had to go to the bathroom,” Taylor said.
Steve grinned. “No, I’m afraid the poor guy’s just torn between the suspects, the press and us.”
“Think they’re talkin’?”
“Not yet. More than likely waiting on their lawyers. Vaulding should be right back.”
He was. Vaulding came in the door, put his hand up, shook his head and said, “Not yet. Crumbly’s lawyer’s here and we’re waiting on Kessington’s. Then they’ll need some time to confer. But the press won’t wait. Veronica’s holding her own, but she’s such good copy if I don’t get out there I’m gonna find out she’s aced me out of the whole front page.”
“Go to it,” Steve said.
“You’re really not coming?”
&
nbsp; “It’s your show, Vaulding. That was the deal.”
“Yeah, I know. But under the circumstances, I’d almost feel better with you there. There’s gonna be questions I can’t answer.”
“Yeah, but there’s others you can. You lay on a general line of bullshit—there’s certain things you can’t discuss until the suspects talk—then you give ’em whatever you want.”
“Yeah, but what? I need some hard facts. Right now the main thing I got on ’em is they tried to run and flight is an indication of guilt. Aside from that, I got nothing. That adapter Veronica held up in court wasn’t the one they used, that was just a bluff.”
“Yeah, but one that worked. Without that you got no flight. But you want hard facts, you got hard facts. There’re the substituted guns. That backs that theory. And you remember the bump on the head? The one the medical examiner photographed? There’s your other theory. The guy was coshed on the head and then shot. It’s a nice theory, ’cause it had to be that way. You can whip out a pistol and shoot a guy in the head, but no one’s gonna stand there waiting to be shot while you fit a bullet in an adapter into a shotgun and aim it at him.”
“Yeah,” Vaulding said. “That helps. Would you happen to know who did it? I can charge ’em as coconspirators, but odds are, when they sing one of them’s gonna rat the other out. It would be nice to name the shooter.”
“Which you can easily do,” Steve said. “You said it yourself. The adapter Veronica held up in court was not the one used in the murder. She couldn’t find the one used in the murder. Why? Because the murderer had gotten rid of it. But when she held it up in court, someone ran. Who? Crumbly. Why? Because he wasn’t the shooter, so he didn’t know this couldn’t be the adapter used in the murder because he wasn’t the one who disposed of it.”
“Kessington ran too.”
“Yeah, but not when he saw the adapter. When he saw they got Crumbly. He knew the adapter had to be a plant, but he figured Crumbly would talk. Which he may.
“Incidentally, there’s another player in this you shouldn’t leave out.”