ALM02 The Death of a Celebrity

by Hulbert Footner

  Lee met Schelling at the corner of two empty streets. It was one of the pleasanter neighbourhoods of the Bronx, removed from the crowded blocks of flats. Across the road stretched the dark expanse of Bronx Park with street lamps at intervals. “Anything new?” asked Lee. “No,” said Schelling. “When I left Cagey was still watching the house. Waiting for the lights to go out.”

  He led Lee across into the Park, which sloped down from the street level. For a few hundred feet they followed one of the footpaths which ran parallel with the street above. The other side of the street was lined with a row of semi-detached suburban houses. It was not yet midnight, and there was still a few couples sitting on the park benches, or strolling along. Watching his chance, Schelling pulled Lee behind a clump of shrubbery at a moment when they were unobserved. From this dump they gained another, nearer to the street fence, and so came to the spot where Schelling had left his mate on watch. “Vosper’s gone!” he whispered.

  A moment later they discovered him lying in the spot where Cagey had been.

  “Cagey’s just gone across the road,” Vosper whispered. “He sneaked around behind Thirty-three. The lights have gone out.”

  “This lad’s line is more likely to be murder than robbery,” said Lee. “Quick! we must divide here. Schelling, you go in search of a policeman. Vosper, you sneak back under the fence and cut across the street below, where he can’t see you. I’ll go the other way. Work back under the rear walls of the houses and we’ll meet at the back door of Thirty-three!”

  Lee ran along under the fence for a hundred feet, then made his way across the street and between two of the houses opposite. He thought: For an amateur this is getting too close to crime. The backyards had been thrown into a community garden; there were no fences. A certain amount of light from the street struck in between each pair of houses. Lee crept back along a garden path towards Thirty-three. As he approached the house, he sensed Vosper coming from the other direction.

  There was a little platform at each kitchen door and on the platform of Thirty-three rose a dark object which might have been a garbage can. But certain movements betrayed it. It was Cagey squatting down, apparently working at the lock of the kitchen door. As Lee drew closer the door opened. Cagey stood up and took a swift survey of the garden while Lee flattened himself against the wall. Cagey entered the house, leaving the door open.

  Lee and Vosper ran silently for the steps. Lee got there first. “Watch out! Watch out!” Vosper whispered urgently, but Lee, disregarding the warning, sprang up the steps and ran into the kitchen. “There’s a robber in the house!” he called out. “Turn on lights!”

  They heard a thump, as of somebody leaping out of bed upstairs, then silence in the dark house. Somewhere near, they knew. Cagey was crouching, breathing fast. The plan of the little house was apparent at a glance. Lee and Vosper were in the kitchen. As they faced the front, there was a swing door into the dining room to the left and a door into the hall to the right. This door stood open. Looking through the hall they could see the street lights through the panes of the front door. Lee and Vosper waited, one on each side of the hall door. Vosper had a gun in his hand.

  Upstairs a switch clicked, and the lower hall was flooded with light. They saw the natty figure of Cagey crouching near the foot of the stairs. His dark face was like a wax mask, only the eyes alive. Holding his gun poised, his eyes darted this way and that, but he could find nothing to shoot at. He backed to the front door. “Lend me your gun,” whispered Lee to Vosper. The gun was shoved into his hand, and he slipped noiselessly through the swing door into the dining-room. There was an arched opening between dining-room and living-room, and on the right of the living-room, another arch into the hall. By creeping around the wall. Lee got within ten feet of Cagey; near enough to see the young man’s breast rising and falling with his panting breath. Cagey with his free hand was feeling behind him for the lock of the front door. Lee said: “Drop your gun! I have you covered.” Instead of obeying, Cagey dived for the stairs, and started scrambling up on all fours. Lee could not shoot because of the intervening banisters. A gun barked from the head of the stairs. Cagey rose to his full height with his arms flung above his head. He crashed over backwards and slid to the foot, where he lay huddled with blood running down his face and on to the gay orange tie. He was dead. His gun had flown out of his hand. Lee walked out, and picking it up stood looking down at him. Vosper joined him from the kitchen. “A handsome lad,” muttered Lee. “Too bad he couldn’t have been used for a better purpose.”

  Hearing a sound from the top of the stairs, he looked up. He saw a grey-faced man in pyjamas with a gun hanging down from his shaking hand. It was George Hillman. The two men stared at each other. Lee, who was fond of saying that nothing could surprise him, was, for once, brought up all standing. Hillman gasped out: “Mr. Mappin . . how did you get here?”

  “What are you doing here?” said Lee.

  “I live here, sir.”

  Lee looked around at the expensively furnished rooms with a grim expression. He indicated the body at his feet. “Do you know this man?”

  “No, sir! No, sir!” protested Hillman breathlessly. “I never saw him before. He is just a robber, a common robber. He broke into my house; he had a gun in his hand; I had a right to shoot him.”

  “Surely,” said Lee. “Come down and look at him closer.”

  Hillman slowly descended the stairs. It sickened him to look at the corpse. “I never saw him before! I swear it!”

  “You were expecting some such attack?”

  “No, sir! No, sir! Why should anybody attack me?”

  “That’s what I want to know … Why the gun?”

  “I’m a timid man, sir. I always keep a gun handy.”

  “Why did he choose this house instead of one of the others? What have you of special value that he was after?”

  “Nothing, sir, nothing! You can search the place and see for yourself.” They heard steps on the porch outside and there was a heavy pounding on the front door. It was Schelling bringing a policeman. Soon afterwards two more officers arrived in a radio car. The neighbours in various states of undress, gathered on the porch peeping through the windows with inquisitive and terrified eyes.

  The body was removed to the police station, and the whole party accompanied it. This was very awkward for Lee, who dreaded the exposure of a scandal that would involve Gavin Dordress. Lee said that he was on his way to see Hillman about a matter concerning his late master’s affairs. He had seen the dead man acting suspiciously and had called on two strangers (Vosper and Schelling) for aid. Vosper and Schelling lied as to the nature of their occupations. Hillman was only too glad to support this story. He produced a licence to carry a gun. Lee noted that it was dated a month before. The affair was treated as a simple burglary. The butler was allowed to go on his own recognisance. Indeed, the police lieutenant congratulated him on his presence of mind. The dead man was removed to the Morgue to await identification.

  When they left the police station Lee sent Vosper and Schelling home, and took Hillman into a saloon on Fordham Avenue. Lee had reason to believe that Mrs. Hillman wore the trousers of the family, and he wanted to question the husband alone. Hillman was obviously dreading it. He swallowed a shot of whisky to give him courage. “Hillman,” began Lee, “where did you get the money to live in such style?”

  “My wife and I operate a restaurant,” Hillman answered nervously. “I told you that, Mr. Mappin.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Lee. “You told me you had paid something down on a restaurant, and still required a large sum to conclude the deal.”

  “We took possession when I made the first payment. I just omitted to state that. I wasn’t trying to deceive you, Mr. Mappin.”

  “An important omission,” said Lee. “Where did you get the money to make the first payment?”

  “It was the savings of a lifetime, Mr. Mappin. I have been putting by money since I was a boy.”

  “How co
uld you keep a family on a hundred and fifty a month and put by money?”

  “My wife helped me. She works, too.”

  In Lee’s report on the Hillman’s there had been no mention that Mrs. Hillman was a wage-earner. “How much did you pay down?” asked Lee.

  “Only one thousand dollars, sir. We are paying off the balance out of earnings.”

  “Where is this restaurant?”

  “On Jerome Park Avenue, Mr. Mappin. It is called Harvest’s.”

  “Who did you buy it from?”

  “Howard Harvest, sir. His address is— Webster Avenue.”

  “Why did you never tell Mr. Dordress that you were engaging in business?”

  “Why, sir, I was afraid Mr. Dordress might resent it because I was getting ready to leave him. I had been working for him nine years, you see.”

  “Well, why didn’t you leave him?”

  “I just couldn’t bring myself to it, Mr. Mappin. After nine years it was like second nature to me to be waiting on Mr. Dordress.”

  “Never mind the nine years,” said Lee. “Tell me plainly why, when you were in receipt of a good income from the restaurant, you were willing to go on slaving for twelve or fourteen hours a day for a hundred and fifty a month.”

  “I wasn’t sure we could make a go of the restaurant,” said Hillman faintly.

  “Have you been stealing from Mr. Dordress?” asked Lee bluntly. “No, sir! No, sir!” protested Hillman. “How can you say such a thing, Mr. Mappin?”

  “If you have been guilty of any minor crimes you had better say so.”

  “Mr. Mappin, I haven’t committed any crimes,” wailed Hillman. “How can you think such things of me?”

  “People don’t get rich so quick, honestly,” said Lee. “I’ll tell you why you were willing to go on working for Mr. Dordress. You were afraid that if he learned how well fixed you were, he would take you out of his will.”

  “Well, yes, that’s a fact,” admitted Hillman. “It was natural, wasn’t it?”

  Lee’s forefinger shot out. “Then you did know that you were down in Mr. Dordress’ will.”

  Hillman’s face turned ashy when he perceived the slip he had made. “I didn’t so to speak know it,” he stammered. “I only hoped that Mr. Dordress would remember me.”

  “Mr. Dordress was a younger man than you. In the natural course of things he would have outlived you.” Hillman was silent. “Were you going to work on for him indefinitely on the chance of collecting your legacy?”

  “I just didn’t think the thing through, Mr. Mappin.”

  “I believe that you did think it through. I believe that you determined to make sure of your legacy before you gave up your job.”

  “No, sir! No, sir! No, sir!” cried Hillman frantically. “Such a thought never entered my head, Mr. Mappin! I won’t touch a cent of the money now! I don’t need it, anyhow. I have my restaurant.”

  “The restaurant is entirely yours, then?”

  “Yes … No … It will be! It will be!”

  Lee studied the abject creature with a frown. It came to him that he never would be able to break him down. The butler might stutter and turn pale and weep, but he was borne up by some secret assurance. Perhaps because he knew Lee had no direct evidence against him. There had been no witness to his crime. But Lee was far from giving up as yet. “Hillman,” he said softly, “was the money for the restaurant or any part of it supplied by Miss Garrett?”

  By Hillman’s glance of panic Lee knew he had made a strike. “No, sir! No, sir! What for should Miss Garrett advance me money?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “No, sir! Miss Garrett hasn’t no use for me at all, Mr. Mappin. None whatever! Specially lately since I had orders from Mr. Dordress not to admit her to the apartment if he was there alone. I’ve had to take the rough side of Miss Garrett’s tongue, sir. You have only, to ask her what she thinks of me and you’ll get an earful.”

  Lee studied him. He saw that he had Hillman badly worried, and determined to leave him in that condition. He got up saying: “Are you coming to work tomorrow?”

  “Why, certainly, Mr. Mappin. That is, if you want me.”

  “I want you.”

  “Then I’ll be there, sir.”

  On his way home Lee telephoned Stan Oberry to assign a man to watch Hillman. “I don’t think he’s going to run for it, he’s got too much at stake. However, let’s not take any chances.”

  WHEN Lee got back to the Madison Avenue house he found Joe Dietz on duty in the elevator. “Joe,” he said, “you have been shooting off your mouth too much about the death of Mr. Dordress.”

  “No, sir!” protested Joe. “I never said a word!”

  “Don’t lie to me,” said Lee. “I know.” Joe stared as if Lee had exhibited supernatural powers.

  Up in the penthouse, Cynthia, hearing the door dose, came out of her room in dressing-gown and slippers to meet him. Lee scolded her affectionately. She had a report that had been sent around from Stan Obeny’s office earlier in the night, and she was curious to learn the contents. Lee read it aloud. “This morning when I was working out the lay of the Townley apartment in the Andorra, I saw that Mr and Mrs. Townley’s bedroom had two windows on the Sixty-sixth Street side of the building, and a third window opening on a court. I noticed from the street that this third window was open. It was faced by a similar window across the court also open, and this gave me the idea that the quarrel between the Townleys might have been overheard by their neighbours across the court. I located the apartment that the window belonged to, and presented myself there in the guise of a canvasser.

  “The master and mistress were out and the maid had time on her hands. She was willing to gossip. She doesn’t know the name of the people across the court. She didn’t hear their quarrel last night because she sleeps at the other end of the apartment. This morning she was attracted into her mistress’s bedroom by hearing a woman scream across the court. She said a woman was having hysterics over there; kept crying out that somebody was dead and she would never see him again. There was a man in the room who was in a rage because the woman was carrying on so. The maid couldn’t distinguish what he said, but she distinctly heard the woman cry out: ‘You killed him! You killed him! You murderer!’ Apparently the man then left the room, and the woman continued to have hysterics on the bed. I haven’t been able to approach any of the Townley servants. Tappan, night doorman at the Andorra, who gave me information this morning, has disappeared. I believe that Townley is taking care of him to keep him from talking further. A. A.”

  “Very questionable evidence,” said Lee with a shrug. “It bears no relation to what happened-to-night. Gavin cannot have been killed by two different people.” He told her of the night’s events. “Another killing!” murmured Cynthia. “This man was no loss,” said Lee coolly. “I am sorry his mouth was stopped only because he would have made a valuable witness.”

  Lee made hot drinks for Cynthia and himself to induce sleep. While they sipped them in the studio he went over his case. “Take Hillman. He had free access to Gavin. He had the best opportunity. Yet he is such a timid fellow, it is difficult to believe that he could have killed a man in cold blood.”

  “You saw him kill a man to-night,” said Cynthia.

  “That was different. That man was advancing on him with a drawn gun.”

  “Hillman has been bought.”

  “Obviously. In addition to the temptation furnished by his own legacy, he has been receiving large sums from some sources. Gail Garrett is indicated. The restaurant apparently has been paid for. Working on this basis, we must assume that Gail hired Hillman to do the thing, and that after it was done, either because his demands were too exorbitant, or simply because he knew too much, she took steps to have him put out of the way.”

  “That is how it looks to me,” said Cynthia.

  “Still I am not satisfied that it was Hillman who fired the fatal shot,” said Lee.

  “Why?”

&nbs
p; “He has told us that he went home a few minutes after you left. The elevator boy was vague as to the exact time, but put it at half an hour. It would have taken an hour or more to destroy the play in that careful manner. By the way, it is a strange thing that only the title of the play was left unconsumed. It suggests that the murderer wished us to know what he had destroyed.”

  “That would be a characteristic gesture of Gall’s,” murmured Cynthia. “That may be right.”

  “If it wasn’t Hillman who fired the shot, who was it?”

  “The professional killer. In that case Hillman admitted him earlier in the evening and left him in the apartment to do his work. Afterwards Cagey could have gone down the stairs, and let himself out of the building without disturbing the sleeping elevator boy.”

  Cynthia thought this over. “But, Lee,” she objected, “if Dad was in the studio all the time, how could Cagey have got his gun?”

  “Hillman could have taken it when Gavin was out of the room and handed it to Cagey.”

  “No fingerprints.”

  “They would wear gloves.”

  Cynthia nodded. “Yes, that hangs together.”

  “But we lack definite proof,” said Lee. “We must keep all other possibilities in mind until the proof is forthcoming … There is a thing in Hillman’s favour that sticks in my mind.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have seen how timid he is, and how incapable of brazening things out. Yet Joe Dietz told me that when Hillman came to work early this morning he looked just the same as usual; he did not seem to be disturbed about anything.”

  “Maybe Joe Dietz is Hillman’s accomplice.”

  “I don’t think so. Because when I was questioning Hillman to-day he suggested that Joe Dietz might be implicated. He would not have done that in the case of an accomplice.”

  “What are the other possibilities you have in mind?”

  “There is Joe Dietz. I have not by any means eliminated him. We know that he is a worthless character who spends more money than he earns honestly. Gavin, who was kind to everybody, had befriended the boy, and Joe had visited the apartment. If Joe had come to the door last night Gavin would no doubt have admitted him. This is all surmise, of course. It is hard to imagine such a weedy youth committing so hold a crime. And Joe could hardly have been clever enough to have found Gavin’s letter, and to have planted it to cover his crime. More likely the elevator boy was merely an accessory; that he brought somebody else up to the penthouse last night, and has been well paid to keep his mouth shut.”