Where There's a Will

by Kip Chase

  ‘Oh, yes. The mistake I was telling you about. Because even when we found out where the doctor rented the tape recorder, it still wasn’t air-tight evidence. The clerk located the same recorder for us. It hadn’t left the place since the doctor rented it. It had the same tape in it. And the doctor had neglected to erase the recording he had made. There it was, clear as a bell—“Hello, dad …”’

  As Carmichael told his story the doctor’s poise had visibly left him, bit by bit. Each incriminating point had brought a deeper pallor to his face. He could no longer hold his cigar steady. He licked his lips continually. As Carmichael began to recount the conversation on the tape, Newton’s control snapped.

  ‘That’s a damn’ lie’, he said shrilly. ‘I was very careful, I …’

  There was a dead silence in the room. It was broken in about twenty seconds by the doctor’s voice. His head had sunk low, supported by his hands. He was staring at the floor. Only those close to him could hear what he was saying. He was repeating just one word over and over. It was, ‘stupid, stupid, stupid. …’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CARMICHAEL’S victory was so decisive and so stunning in its execution that it Was three days before Pinkie realized there were still a few points he didn’t understand. He approached Carmichael in the early evening when the old gentleman was in a particularly mellow mood. A token of Chief Delmar’s appreciation had arrived only a few hours before, and when the chief bought whisky for his friends, the best was none too good. There had been no word of dissent when Carmichael laid claim to his prize.

  ‘Carmichael,’ Pinkie began, ‘there are a couple of things I still don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, my boy?’

  ‘First off, why all the hocus-pocus with the tie? Why couldn’t Dr. Newton have done it this way—freeze the old man, kill Mrs. DeVoors, then just dump his father’s body in the pool? They would have found out old man Newton died of a heart attack, but so what? The police would have figured he had an attack at the side of the pool and fell in. Still would have placed his death after Mrs. DeVoors’s. That was the only important thing.’

  ‘You’re right’, Carmichael said. ‘That would have been the simple thing. But again the doctor wanted to be clever. He used the strangling set-up because he wanted to “tie” the murders together.’ Carmichael chuckled fatuously at his own pun.

  ‘Yes, yes’, said Pinkie impatiently. ‘But why did he want to do that?’

  ‘He figured the same modus operandi would indicate to the police the killings were the work of the same person. He thought he would be virtually discarded as a suspect—especially since it would be apparent he was not likely to kill his own father, considering his obvious devotion to him—a devotion that could be attested to by a dozen people. Again he was too clever.’

  ‘And did you really locate the shop where Dr. Newton rented the tape recorder?’ Pinkie next queried.

  ‘Certainly. If I hadn’t named it correctly, he would have known I was bluffing.’

  ‘But then you really were bluffing when you said the conversation was recorded on it?’

  ‘That’s right. The doctor had no doubt “erased” it just as he started to say. But even if he hadn’t, the machine was rented again two days later and the old tape tossed out.’

  ‘What if nobody checked the recorder on the phone?’

  ‘He figured we would. He figured right.’ Carmichael pointed out.

  Pinkie scratched his head reflectively. ‘All right then. But you were taking a terrific gamble. If he hadn’t shot off his mouth it might have been tough to convict him.’

  ‘Yes and no. It certainly would have been tougher. I took a chance. We had nothing to lose and a lot to gain. It paid off. And if you want to get technical, we still can’t be sure of a conviction.’

  ‘No?’ Pinkie’s voice scaled up in surprise.

  ‘No. That’s why we’re not going to try for one.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s right. Dr. Newton’s lawyer talked it over with the D.A. this morning. The D.A.’s going to settle for a plea of guilty to second degree murder.’

  ‘Second degree! Why, it was a clear-cut case of premeditation and …’

  ‘Sure,’ Carmichael took a sip from his ice-filled glass, ‘but it was no “clear-cut” case as far as the prosecution was concerned. So a room full of people heard the doctor make what sounded like an admission he had recorded the conversation. But he didn’t actually say that and nobody but the doctor himself could be sure what he meant. And nothing concrete all the way through. Strictly circumstantial. Still, juries are funny sometimes and I think the D.A. might have tried it anyway. But it would have been a real rough one to lose. So he settles for second degree. And that’s a good deal for the doc. If he was tried and convicted on first degree it could mean the gas chamber. As it is he’ll be out on parole in five years.’

  ‘But it doesn’t make sense. It was first degree murder. It should be tried as first degree murder.’

  ‘It doesn’t make moral sense, but it makes practical sense. And after all, just why do you send a man to prison anyway?’

  ‘According to the books,’ said Pinkie, ‘there are three reasons: to act as a deterrent, to protect society, and for punishment. And, ah, rehabilitation.’

  ‘Well, all right, let’s examine the case of Dr. Newton from these points. Now, as for the deterrent angle, there’s not much to be said for it in a case of this sort. The possibility of punishment didn’t stop the doctor and wouldn’t be likely to stop anybody else, in similar circumstances. Protection for society? Negligible. Murderers are the best parole risks. Been proved time and time again. That is, the so-called “upper class” murderer who kills for a specific reason in specific circumstances. To silence a nagging wife, or to get his business partner’s insurance, and the like. That type kills once; if they’re caught, no more. Now a garden variety thug is something different. But Dr. Newton? You know it’s almost a certainty he’ll never kill anybody again. Which also takes care of “rehabilitation”; just not applicable in this case. So that leaves us punishment. And I’ll grant you five years isn’t enough punishment for a murder. No matter how unpleasant the old lady might be—nor high-minded the cause. But there you are. For reasons already mentioned, it’s practical politics for the District Attorney to accept a plea of guilty for a lesser charge. It’s done every day.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it right.’

  ‘I won’t argue the point. I’ve explained it as best I could.’ Carmichael complacently sucked an ice cube. ‘Anything else bothering you?’

  ‘Well, yes. What happens to everybody eke?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Elinor Wycliff and her brother, for instance.’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing!’ Pinkie’s tone was as incredulous as before. ‘Now that will really take some explaining. To begin with, she admitted stealing the fifty thousand. And she and her brother extorted Lord only knows how much from Mrs. DeVoors, on that phoney Indian society racket, which shouldn’t be hard to prove …’

  ‘Shouldn’t it? You don’t learn very quick, son. But let’s start with the fifty thousand. She admitted it. To whom? You and me and Louie. She didn’t sign anything, so again, it’s our word against hers. And then there’s that constitutional gimmick about not testifying against yourself, but we won’t go into that right now. She could say she admitted it even, but then repudiate her confession, claiming it was taken under duress, for example. She could produce witnesses to testify to the old lady’s eccentricities. Who’s to prove she didn’t give the girl the fifty thousand dollars?’

  ‘Why did she deposit it under a false name?’ Pinkie retorted.

  ‘Her lawyer would say she was frightened when it turned out Mrs. DeVoors was murdered; he would say …’

  ‘Okay, okay’, Pinkie said wearily. ‘How about the phoney society?’

  ‘Same deal. The only person who told us the old lady mailed the cheques was Elinor Wycliff.
Again she wouldn’t testify against herself. She and her brother could claim Mrs. DeVoors gave them the cheques to deposit in the Laguna bank with full knowledge of where it was going. No extortion there. A smart counsel could go a long way on that tack.’

  ‘But we know that isn’t the way it was. You mean to say they’re going to get away with all that money?’

  ‘Nope, I didn’t say that. The District Attorney had a little talk with them, too. The fifty thousand dollars Elinor gives back to the estate. Also all the money that’s in the Laguna bank. They have a record of the deposits and withdrawals and the two of them didn’t spend much. So they give it back and the state doesn’t prosecute. And that’s that.’

  ‘Brother’, said Pinkie. ‘They steal a fortune and nothing happens. I spend five minutes too long in a parking zone and I get socked for two bucks. So how about Veblen?’

  ‘As soon as we learned about his San Francisco connection with Mrs. DeVoors, it was pretty obvious he had some sort of a blackmailing scheme going. Louie and I talked to him the other day and he opened up.’

  ‘Here we go again’, said Pinkie.

  ‘Yep. Nothing happens to him either. But he really didn’t do much. Seems he actually is writing a book, and all he wanted was a place to write it. He found out the rich Mrs. DeVoors was the girl he used to know in that joint back in ‘Frisco, so he appears one day and asked if he could stick around for a while as a guest. What can she say but yes? He got a little spending money too. Not much, he says, and I believe him. But the old lady didn’t feel comfortable with him around so the day before she was killed she offered him fifty thousand dollars to clear out. He was happy to take her up on it, of course. Except he never got the money; Elinor Wycliff got to it first.’

  ‘What assurance did Mrs. DeVoors have he wouldn’t come back for more?’

  ‘None. But she could see he didn’t have extravagant tastes. Changed quite a bit from his wild youthful ways, evidently. Anyway, she probably figured fifty thousand would last him until he died, or until she did.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ Pinkie said, ‘I got to thinking about Elinor Wycliff. Did she take the money just to be greedy?’

  ‘Partly that, probably. Though she doesn’t tell it that way. She says she took it because she thought her brother was the killer and she figured he would be a prime suspect because of the provision in the will. She thought taking the money would make the police think it was done by a burglar. Or so she says. Might be some truth to it. Which about clears it up. As for Mrs. George, the poor lady is again without references. And Awlsen is out maid-hunting by this time’, Carmichael concluded with a snort.

  ‘And all the money?’

  ‘Just like her will said—if her brother can’t inherit, and he certainly can’t—then it goes to the charities she specified.’

  ‘I don’t know’, said Pinkie dubiously. ‘It seems like a … well … “untidy” ending.’

  ‘Son,’ said the old man gently, ‘it’s an untidy world.’

  THE END

  If you have enjoyed this Cloak and Dagger Mystery ask for the following at your library:

  ERIC ALLEN

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  The Man Who Chose Death

  Death on Delivery

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  By Some Person Unknown

  Night of Violence

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  Framed for Hanging

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  Cause of Death

  Arm of the Law

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  When an English family of four sailed for Australia, the last thing they expected was to find themselves being rescued from the middle of a desert by a travelling circus. Soon—their car and caravan painted red—they were part of the circus, an odd-job team prepared to do anything and everything around the show. If you’ve ever wanted to get behind the scenes to see how a travelling circus really lives, labours, and laughs, this is the book for you.

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  Indian Interval

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  Edited by Harry E. Maule

  The seventeen stories in this volume were selected from 130-odd submitted by sixty different authors. The standard was high and the final selection was difficult. Whilst it would be impossible in any one book to represent every phase of Western history, this covers a fairly generous cross-section. An attempt has been made to choose a ration for all tastes in the field of Western fiction and it is hoped the result will be satisfying to all readers.

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