by Todd Downing
He knelt down and scrutinized them closely. They were olive-grey and black, with black bands on their wings. Their beaks were long, their eye wattles abnormally developed.
He glanced at the nearest window and saw that one of the panes had been removed.
Rennert was puzzled as he went downstairs again, locking the door behind him. He was wide awake, too, even before he stepped under his shower.
He wondered if Rolf Jester could explain the presence of those very special birds in his hotel.
II
With Rolf Jester’s belated devotion to domesticity had come an attachment to the soil which made him spend his spare moments studying seed catalogues and pottering about yard and garden.
Rennert found him in disreputable corduroys and Stetson hat, trimming a privet hedge at the side of the house. At his feet sprawled an ancient brown and white spaniel, who followed her master’s every motion with filmed but adoring eyes.
“Morning, Squire!” was Rennert’s greeting as he brought the car to a stop.
“Howdy!” Jester put down the shears and came towards him. “Get out.”
“Thanks. I only want to talk to you a while if you can spare the time.”
“All you want.”
The dog wobbled after Jester, nosed his trousers, then was so completely overcome by his proximity that she lay on her back and tried to kick her feet in the air like a puppy. Jester grinned, and ruffled the skin on her throat with his toe. This sent her into paroxysms of delight.
“Can you tell me,” Rennert asked, “why Matt Bettis keeps homing pigeons in the attic of the hotel?”
Jester propped a foot on the running-board, pushed the hat back from his moist face, and stared at him incredulously. “Homing pigeons? Lord, no. Does he?”
“He does. You remember I told you yesterday I’d heard someone walking above me lately. I took the liberty of picking the lock this morning. He has five pigeons there in cages. There’s a hole in the window for them to leave or enter by. I was hoping you might be able to explain.”
Jester shook his head, and his face became thoughtful. “You don’t think, do you, that he’s doing any smuggling across the river?”
“That’s the first thing I thought of. It’s done so much along the border. But if that’s it, it’s on a very small scale. And he can’t have been getting by with it for long. Everyone who tries it gets caught sooner or later. It might be drugs, of course, for his own use. Did you ever know of him using them?”
“No. He drinks and gambles a lot—that sort of thing—but I never heard of him taking drugs.”
“He doesn’t look as if he did. You don’t mind my keeping an eye on that attic for a few days, Rolf?”
“Hell, no. But if you want to know about those pigeons let’s go down to the hotel now. I’ll make him tell us what he uses ’em for.”
“He’d merely say that they’re pets or something of the sort. All we’d accomplish would be to make him suspicious. Let’s see what develops. Get in and sit down, Rolf. I want to show you something.”
When Jester was beside him Rennert pointed out the photographs in the Simon Secondyne article. “Recognize those?”
Jester studied them for a few moments, then exclaimed: “Why, Hugh, this is the bull-ring on the Campos hacienda!” He turned pages. “And this is the magazine you and Christine and I were talking about night before last. Where did you get it?”
Rennert told him of his interview with David Distant.
“Distant says you took several copies with you on that trip. Just as reading matter?”
“No. Manuel Campos had asked me to bring ’em.”
Rennert glanced at him sharply.
“Why?”
“Well, that issue was prohibited in Mexico. He wrote and asked me if I could slip some in when I came. There wasn’t any trouble because the Mexican officials hardly looked at our luggage on the Pullman. Afterwards I got the copies out and let the crowd read that article. There’d been so much talk about it.”
“You don’t know why Campos asked for so many?”
“No.”
“What did he say when you handed them to him?”
“He just thanked me and paid for them. I didn’t want to take the money, but he insisted. Said it wasn’t his.”
“Do you have any idea whom he was buying them for?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Did anyone on your party besides Distant go near that bull-ring or show any interest in it?”
Jester thought for a moment.
“Mrs. Lincoln did. I remember her strolling around the house and getting lyrical over the view. She thought the ring was a fort that they used as protection against bandits. Carlos explained what it was. She wanted me to go look at it with her, but I talked her out of the idea. I had to take a walk with her, though. That was when she made me blister myself on that wall”—his voice became gruff—“so she could see my hair in the sun. And, say, Hugh, that reminds me! While we were there I saw Charles Bettis go in that ring. I’d forgotten that.”
“Charles Bettis. Had he been present when Mrs. Lincoln called attention to it?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Did he make any mention of it afterwards?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Rolf, did the Campos family have frequent guests at their home?”
“Yes, they were always entertaining somebody or other. People would come and stay weeks at a time. Americans and Mexicans both. The hunting was good about there.”
“Were there any other guests at the time you took your party?”
“No. Radisson was there, of course, but he was more or less of a permanent fixture.”
“Rolf, I haven’t told you yet. Radisson died last night.” Rennert deleted from his account of the visit to Tonatiuh all references to Dr. Lincoln’s attitude. Not from any lack of confidence in Jester, but because he knew that it was not in the latter’s sanguine nature to harbour suspicion readily against such a neighbour as the tall physician.
He wondered, however, if some such thought did not cross the other’s mind. “Hugh, Christine and I talked this whole thing over last night. I told her all you said at the office. I knew it’d be all right. We decided not to go on that cruise with the Lincolns. She was very firm about it, said I ought to stay here, take precautions of course, and help you in any way I can. She agreed with you that what happened on the hacienda that time was connected with what’s going on now. She made me go over the whole story of our visit, to see if I couldn’t remember something I hadn’t told you. There was one thing. Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t say anything about it. But Christine insisted I tell you. It was the night before the wreck. Mrs. Torday left the Pullman.”
“Let’s hear about it, Rolf.”
“Well, I don’t know what time it was—after midnight, I’m sure. Everybody was in his berth. I had gone to sleep, but I woke up when someone brushed against my curtain. I didn’t think anything about it until I heard voices at the end of the car and the door being opened. I thought I’d better investigate. I got up and met the porter in the passage. I asked him what the trouble was. He tried to tell me that I was mistaken. But I started to raise hell with him and he admitted that one of the ladies had asked him to let her out. She said she wanted to take a walk, as she couldn’t sleep. She’d given him a tip to leave the door open until she got back and say nothing about it. From his description I knew it was Mrs. Torday.”
Jester was silent for a moment, frowning. “Hugh, I didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t any danger, of course, unless she wandered off and got lost. And I had an idea what she wanted to go out for. If that was the case, I was going to keep my mouth shut. So I went outside quietly and saw her walking away with Angerman in the direction of the house. He had a flashlight, and I could tell by his size, his riding breeches, and his boots who it was. I went back to bed.” It was said a bit defiantly. “Far be it from me to interfere with anybody’s private affairs.�
�
“And that was all?”
“All except this. Somebody else left that Pullman a few minutes after Mrs. Torday did and came back before she did. I lay there dozing and heard him. But I didn’t get up to investigate. And I’ll tell you why. I thought it was Dr. Torday, who had missed his wife and was looking for her. I figured that if he wanted my help he could call me. And if there was going to be any family rumpus I’d better hug my pillow and stay out of it. But I didn’t go back to sleep. In about half an hour this second person came back and got in a berth. But it wasn’t Torday’s berth. It was farther toward the front of the car. I waited until Mrs. Torday got back a few minutes later, then got up and laid the law down to the porter that he wasn’t to let another soul out that night. I got a good night’s sleep after that.”
“You’re positive it was Mrs. Torday who left first?”
“Yes. I peeped out of the curtains when she got back.”
“But you have no idea who the second individual was?”
“No.”
“You said it was a man. How did you know that?”
“Well, I judged it was by the way he walked heavy-like.”
“You didn’t ask the porter who it was?”
“No, I wasn’t interested so long as I could get to sleep.”
“You stated that this person’s berth was between Torday’s and the front of the car. Whose might it have been?”
“Let’s see. I was about the middle of the Pullman. Beyond me were the Tordays, in opposite berths, then Dr. and Mrs. Lincoln, the same arrangement. Then Matt and Charles Bettis.”
“So it must have been one of the last four?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Rennert was interested, intensely so. “I gather that it was the dark of the moon that night?”
“Yes.”
“Peter Bounty mentioned the fact that Charles Bettis was wearing a wrist-watch when he was killed. Did he have it on during that trip?”
“I swear, Hugh, I can’t be sure. Seems to me he did.”
“You couldn’t possibly remember whether it had a luminous dial?”
Jester shook his head. “That’s too much. But I do remember that the one he had on when he died was luminous. Because we looked at the hands.”
“Good. Now, Rolf, I want you to gossip to me about Charles Bettis. What sort of a man he was. Something about your dealings with both the brothers.”
“Well, I might as well be frank, Hugh, even if the fellow is dead. Charles Bettis was a rat, in my opinion. He was something like Matt, only smarter. Taller and better-looking. I never had much to do with him except in a business way. They had a little money, as I told you, that they wanted to invest in a hotel. I had that old farmhouse on my hands and knew it could be made into a residential hotel without much trouble. They offered to buy it from me on the installment plan: so much down and payments the first of every year. I had no other prospect, so I agreed. I was sorry afterwards, because the place didn’t have a very good reputation the way they ran it. They made the first annual payment, but after Charles was killed Matt seemed to lose hold. Talked about leaving the Valley and going back to Kansas City. He didn’t make his payment two years ago so I took over the place. I let Matt stay on as manager, however, on a salary, until he made up his mind what he wanted to do. He promised to make the hotel quiet and respectable. I was to get all the profit but give him credit for what he and Charles had already paid in. The first of the next year he surprised me by handing me ten thousand dollars. He told me yesterday that he’d be able to make the same payment this week. So it looks as if he were going to own the hotel after all.”
“Do you have any idea where he gets the money?”
“No. Not out of his salary, I’m sure. Because he spends a lot. My guess is that he wins it in some sort of gambling.”
“Let me go over this again, Rolf.” Rennert made tally on his fingers. “Your party visits the Campos hacienda in June. You return and the Bettises take over the hotel. They pay you the first of the year. The following Christmas Charles is shot, and Matt defaults on a payment the next week. The first of the next year—one year ago Friday, that is—Matt pays you ten thousand dollars. He plans to give you the same amount within the next five days. I have that right?”
“Yes.”
Rennert sighed with relief. “Rolf, I think that dispels the phantom of Christmas.”
“The phantom of Christmas?”
“Yes. These crimes have been committed at the Christmas season, not for any esoteric reason, but simply because Christmas precedes New Year.”
Jester’s face was perplexed. “You mean Matt Bettis has been doing them—to get the money he gives me?”
“I’m not sure yet, Rolf. I’m not trying to act mysterious. It’s just that I don’t have the puzzle put together yet. I think I have all the pieces—you’ve given me most of them—but I can’t make them fit.” Rennert consulted his watch. “I have to see Torday at eleven-thirty. You’ll be there at noon?”
“I suppose so.” Jester climbed out of the car. “I told him I would when he called me last night. I don’t know exactly what he wants, but I thought I ought to co-operate.”
He leaned over and patted the dog’s head. The touch of his hand gave her such uncontrollable delight that she capered and tumbled, then lay exhausted upon the grass.
Jester’s eyes weren’t clear as he stood and gazed at her. “Poor thing. I’ve had her all her life. We’ve got old together. Her teeth are gone and I have to feed her with a spoon, like a baby. There’s something wrong with her that the veterinary can’t diagnose. A pain in some place, and she can’t tell us where it is. I’m not going to see her tormented with any more treatments. I’m going to shoot her—when I get up nerve enough to do it.”
Strangely enough, Rennert remained calm as the pieces of the puzzle slid smoothly into place and he faced a perfect design.
He started his motor, then, prompted by the warm welling of gratitude for Jester, called: “Rolf, let me give you some advice: get another manager for your hotel as soon as possible.”
“Then Matt Bettis—”
“Matt Bettis is going to be behind bars if I can possibly put him there.”
17
The Shadowless Hour
I
This noon the Venetian blinds were lowered against the sun and in the penumbral coolness Dr. Torday was an old man. A sick old man whose sunken eyes were dull from gazing on some special horror of his own.
For the first time Rennert felt a tinge of pity for the occupant of the wheel-chair which faced his straight-backed one. The prospect of a lifetime to be spent in a straight-jacket such as that was enough to breed venom in any man.
“How are you feeling this morning, Doctor?”
Torday smiled faintly, as if pleased by the solicitude in Rennert’s voice. “My worst,” he said, “my worst. I never rise before twelve o’clock. Before that time I can neither smoke nor drink—not even coffee. I must follow a rigid diet. So I prefer to sleep. Today I have been awake since daylight. May I ring for something for you?”
“Don’t, please.”
“I’ve told the cook to prepare eggnog for us at twelve. You will take that, I hope?”
“Yes. Before we go any further, I should like to remind you of an envelope which Mr. Bounty instructed me to get from you.”
Torday’s smile was sardonic now. “I might have known you wouldn’t forget that. Here it is; take it.” He transferred a sealed manila envelope from the table to Rennert’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you.”
“There’s no occasion for thanks,” the other remarked drily. “I’m sorry, in a way, that you didn’t see fit to come to an agreement with me directly. But perhaps this arrangement is better.” He asked suddenly: “Do you have a poker face, Rennert? Or don’t you know what’s in that envelope you just put in your pocket?”
“I have no idea what’s in it. I’m merely acting for Mr. Bounty.”
&nbs
p; Torday’s amusement found vent in a low chuckle, which increased in volume until it was a ringing peal of laughter. didn’t know you were so innocent, Rennert. No doubt you believe in Santa Claus. And trust to the ravens to bring manna. No wonder Peter Bounty has taken you under his wing. You don’t know him very well, do you?”
“I think I do,” Rennert said stiffly.
“Let’s see. I couldn’t convince you that he’s an extortionist, could I? Could I?” The questions darted at him.
It astonished Rennert to find that he couldn’t laugh at such an incredible assertion, couldn’t rise to spirited defence of the man whom he trusted implicitly. There was a cold numbness in the regions of his heart which made breathing difficult. “I don’t think you could,” was the best he could do.
Torday’s laughter rose again. “You’ll see! You’ll see that I’m right. But I bear no grudge against him now that I find he has a sense of humour. Making you his agent! I couldn’t understand why he insisted that the envelope be sealed. I spoke too hastily to Bounty at the bridge last night. I rather think I respect the man for his audacity. Tell him that, will you?”
“I shall.” Rennert got a grip on himself. “Have you heard, Doctor, that Professor Radisson died last night at Tonatiuh?”
“Yes, yes.” Torday seemed fretful at the changing of the subject. “Dr. Lincoln called me this morning and told me of it. I’m sorry. For every reason, of course. Especially sorry that it should have happened at Tonatiuh. Death is bad for the place. But it was unavoidable, I judge.”
“Did he make any reference to my telephone conversation with him?”
“He said you had been down there and had wanted to turn the place inside out.” Torday’s eyes met his with a bit of impudence. “If you had entered into an agreement with me, Rennert, as I wanted you to, you would have had a perfect right to do as you wish at Tonatiuh. But you preferred to range yourself beside Peter Bounty. So it’s well you learned that outside his little bailiwick he’s an ordinary mortal and can’t help you.” He gestured with a hand. “But no matter. We won’t quibble. I dare say Lincoln was a trifle brusque last night. He’s always getting his pinfeathers ruffled. What was it you wanted?”