Again a possibility appeared in the old dumbwaiter shaft, which extended from the basement to the first floor. But inspection of this, both from above and below, disclosed that it did not contain even the dumbwaiter which must originally have occupied it. A few old ropes and a set of pulleys dangled from its roof, at the level of the first floor ceiling; between these, flashlights revealed nothing but musty space.
Eventually, the detective returned alone to the two physicians. He was still grim and angry, but thoroughly composed again. ‘Somebody,’ he said, ‘is going to get in trouble.’
The medical examiner grinned.
‘What do you make of it?’
‘Only one thing to make of it—you can’t prove a murder without a corpse. It’s an old trick, but it’s the last thing I’d expect up here.’
‘Somebody’s smart,’ commented Dr Archer.
‘Exactly. And the somebody isn’t working alone. Everybody who could possibly have done the job is upstairs in that room now; not a single suspect has been down here since we left the body. Every one of them has been under some policeman’s eye.’
‘The undertaker was down here.’
‘In the hall, but not in this room. Day might not be as bright as his name would indicate, but surely he could see whether Crouch came in here. Day says positively that he didn’t; he went straight up, and came down and went straight out. He couldn’t get back in here any other way without being seen, either. The back yard and back door are covered. The roof is covered. Every possible entrance and exit have been covered from almost the moment we left this room with Frimbo on that couch.’
‘Then,’ Dr Archer said, ‘the fact of the matter must be that the gentleman is still in our midst. Maybe you’re dealing with secret passages and mysterious compartments.’
‘Wouldn’t be surprised,’ said the medical examiner amusedly. ‘He was a man of mystery, wasn’t he? He ought to have a few hidden chambers and such.’
‘We can take care of them,’ Dart said. ‘I’ll have a departmental expert here early tomorrow morning—even if it is Sunday. This morning, as a matter of fact. We’ll go over the house with a pair of micrometre calipers. There never was a secret chamber that didn’t take up space. And one thing is sure: Jenkins knows who did this. Whoever paid him, paid for the removal of the corpse also. It’s the final stroke—protects everybody, you see. No corpse, no killing. Damn!’
‘Somehow,’ Dr Archer reflected, ‘I’ve a very uncomfortable feeling that something is wrong.’
‘Not really?’
‘I mean something in the way we’ve been reasoning. It’s so easy to ignore the obvious. What obvious circumstance can we have been ignoring?’ He deliberated without benefit of the others’ aid. Rather suddenly he drew a breath. ‘No,’ he contradicted his own inspiration, ‘that’s a little too obvious. And yet—’
‘What the dickens are you mumbling about?’ Dart asked, with pardonable impatience.
‘Let’s divide all the suspects,’ said Dr Archer, ‘whom we have considered here tonight into two groups. The first will be a group about whom we can definitely say they couldn’t have made off with this body. The second will be a group about whom we can’t say that.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘All right. Everybody that’s been here will fall into the first group—except one.’
‘Who?’
‘The servant.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Nobody knows that servant’s whereabouts since he bowed Jenkins into Frimbo’s room. And if it’s a matter of knowing the layout, he ought to be more qualified than anybody else to bring off this last bit of sleight-of-hand.’
‘How’ll we prove it?’
‘Find him. He has all the additional information you need. He’s your key.’
‘If he didn’t leave before we got here.’
‘In that case he couldn’t have got back to recover the remains—not if all avenues were covered. So that he may still be—with his gruesome companion. Keep your avenues guarded until you can go over the place with—calipers, did you say? And even if he isn’t here, he’s got to be found. I suspect his remarks on this whole matter would save us considerable energy, even if he didn’t remove the body.’
‘All right, doc, I accept your suggestion. But Jenkins is a bird in the hand, and I think we can persuade him to talk. Hicks, too, may have something more to say under the right circumstances. And I’ve a mind to hold the other two also until the body is found. A few pertinent suggestions might improve their knowledge of the case. But it may be better to let ’em go, and have ’em trailed. Find out more that way. Yep—I’m going to have everybody I let out of here tonight trailed. I won’t even tell ’em about this. That’s the idea—’
‘Well,’ the medical examiner sighed, gathering himself for departure, ‘I can’t examine what isn’t here. When you guys get a body let me know. But don’t find it till I’ve had a few hours’ sleep. And no more false alarms, please.’
‘O.K., Dr Winkler. It won’t be a false alarm next time.’
‘Good-night, doctor.’
Before the outside door slammed behind the departing medical examiner, Dart had reached the telephone in the rear room. He got headquarters, made a brief preliminary report of the case, and instituted a sharp lookout, through police radio broadcast and all the other devices under headquarters’ control, for a Negro of the servant’s description, and any clues leading to possible recovery of the dead body.
Then he and the doctor returned to the death chamber above.
CHAPTER XV
‘GREAT day in the mornin’!’ exclaimed Mrs Aramintha Snead. ‘What under the sun is it now?’
‘Sit tight, everybody,’ advised Tynes. ‘They’ll be right back.’
‘’Twouldn’ be so bad,’ commented Easley Jones good-humouredly, ‘if we was sittin’—tight or loose. But my dawgs is ’bout to let me down.’
As for the customary volubility of Bubber, that had for the moment fled. The actuality of his friend’s arrest had shocked him even more than it had Jinx, for Jinx had half-anticipated it, while Bubber hadn’t given the possibility a thought. He stood near his long, lanky, uncomely friend, looking rather helplessly into his face. Jinx was scowling glumly into the distance. Finally Bubber spoke:
‘Did you hear what the man said?’
‘Hmph!’ grunted Jinx.
‘Is you got any idea what it means?’
‘Hmph!’ Jinx grunted again.
‘Hmph hell-ie!’ returned Bubber, sufficiently absorbed in his ally’s predicament to be oblivious of the heretofore hampering presence of ladies. ‘Here you is headed straight for the fryin’-pan, and all you can do is grunt. What in the world is you tol’ the man to make him think you done it?’
‘Tol’ him little as I could,’ muttered Jinx.
‘Well, brother, you better get to talkin’. This here’s serious.’
‘You tellin’ me?’
‘Somebody got to tell you. You don’ seem to have sense enough to see it for yo’self. Look here—did you have a hand in this thing sho’ ’nough?’
‘Hmph!’ said Jinx.
‘Well, you could ’a’. Man might ’a’ said sump’m ’bout yo’ ancestors, and you might ’a’ forgot yo’self and busted him one. It’s possible.’
‘I tol’ ’em what the man said—word for word—near as I could. This is what I get for that.’
‘Guess you jes’ born for evil, boy. Good luck come yo’ way, take one look at you, and turn ’round and run. You sho’ you ain’t done it?’
‘Hmph,’ issued a fourth time from the tall boy’s nose.
‘Listen, Jinx. “Hmph” don’ mean nothin’ in no language. You better learn to say “no” and say it loud and frequent. You didn’t fall asleep while the man was talkin’ to you? Did y’?’
‘How’m I go’n’ sleep with all that light in my eyes?’
‘Shuh, man, I’ve seen you sleep with the sun in yo’ eyes.’
�
��Hadn’ been for you,’ Jinx grumbled, ‘I wouldn’ be in this mess.’
‘Hadn’ been for me? Listen to the fool! What’d I have to do with it?’
‘You tol’ the man that was my han’kerchief, didn’ y’?’
‘’Cose I did. It was yo’ han’kerchief. But I sho’ didn’ tell ’im that was yo’ finger print on that club yonder.’
‘’Tain’ no finger print o’ mine. I ain’ touched no club.’
‘Now wait a minute, big boy. Don’ give the man no argument ’bout no finger print. You in trouble enough now. This ain’t the first time yo’ fingers got away from you.’
‘And ’tain’t the first time yo’ tongue’s got away from you. You talk too doggone much.’
‘Maybe. But everything I’ve said tonight is a whisper side o’ what that finger print says. That thing shouts out loud.’
Mrs Aramintha Snead came up to them. ‘Young man,’ she addressed Jinx, ‘your time has come. I’m gonna pray for you.’
At this, everyone exchanged uncomfortable, apprehensive glances, and Bubber, gathering the full significance of the church lady’s intention, looked at Jinx as if the latter’s time had indeed come.
‘Stand one side, son,’ ordered the lady, elbowing Bubber well out of the way.
‘Yas’m,’ said Bubber helplessly, his face a picture of distress.
‘Young man, does you know the Ten Commandments?’
Jinx could only look at her.
‘Does you know the six’ commandment? Don’t know even a single one of the commandments, does y’? Well, you’s a hopeless sinner. You know that, don’t y’? Hopeless—doomed—on yo’ way,’ her voice trembled and rose, ‘to burn in hell, where the fire is not quenched and the worm dieth not.’
‘Lady, he ain’t no worm,’ protested Bubber.
‘Hush yo’ mouf!’ she rebuked; then resumed her more holy tone. ‘If you’d ’a’ obeyed the commandments, you wouldn’t ’a’ been a sinner and you wouldn’t ’a’ sinned. But how could you obey ’em when you didn’ even know ’em?’
The silence accompanying her pause proved that this was an unanswerable point.
‘If you’d obeyed the six’ commandment,’ her voice was low and impressive, ‘you wouldn’t ’a’ killed this conjure-man here tonight. ’Cause the six’ commandment say, “Thou shalt not kill!” And now you done broke it. Done broke it—done kilt one o’ yo’ fellow men. Don’ matter whether he was good or bad—you done kilt him—laid ’im out cold in the flesh. The Good Book say “A eye for a eye and a toof for a toof.” And inasmuch as you did it unto him, it shall likewise be done unto you. And you got to go befo’ that great tribunal on high and ’splain why—’splain why you done it. They’s only one thing, you can do now—repent. Repent, sinner, befo’ it is too late!’
‘Can I do it for ’im, lady?’ Bubber offered helpfully.
‘Let us pray,’ said Mrs Snead serenely. ‘Let us pray.’
She stood erect, she folded her arms, she closed her prominent eyes. That helped. But the benefit to Jinx of what followed was extremely doubtful.
‘Lawd, here he is. His earthly form returns to the dust frum whence it came, and befo’ his undyin’ soul goes to eternal judgment, we want to pray for ’im. We know he’s got to go. We know that soon his mortal shell will be moulderin’ in the ground. It ain’t for that we prayin’—it ain’t for that—’
‘The hell it ain’t,’ devoutly mumbled Bubber.
‘Hit’s for his soul we prayin’—his soul so deep-dyed, so steeped, so black in sin. Wash him, Lawd. Wash him and he shall be whiter than snow. Take from him every stain of transgression, and bleach him out like a clean garment in the sunlight of righteousness.’
For an unconscionable length of time she went on lamenting the hopeless sinner’s iniquitous past, that had culminated in so shameful a present, and picturing the special torments reserved in hell for the impenitent dead.
‘We know he’s a hopeless sinner. But, oh, make him to see his sins—make him know it was wrong to steal, wrong to gamble, wrong to drink, wrong to swear, wrong to lie, and wrong to kill—and make him fall on his knees and confess unto salvation befo’ it is too late. Make him realize that though he can’t save his body, they’s still time to save his soul. So that when that las’ day comes, and he reaches Jordan’s chilly shore, and Death puts forth his cold icy hand and lays it on his shoulder and whispers, “Come,” he can rise up with a smile and say, “I’m ready—done made my peace callin’, and election sho’, done cast off this old no’count flesh and took on the spirit.”’
Then she opened her eyes and looked at the young man for whose soul she had so long pleaded. ‘There now,’ she said, ‘Don’t you feel better?’
‘No, ma’am,’ said Jinx.
‘Lawd have mercy!’ breathed the lady, and shaking her head sadly from side to side, she abandoned him to the fate of the unrepentant, returning to her place with the air of one who at least has done his duty.
When the second search was over and the detective and the physician returned to the room where the others waited, they found a restless and bewildered company.
‘What was it, doc?’ Bubber promptly wanted to know, ‘a boy or a girl?’
‘Neither,’ said the physician.
‘Mph!’ grunted Bubber. ‘Was Frimbo like that too? It’s gettin’ so you don’ know who to trust, ain’t it?’
‘Brown,’ said Detective Dart, ‘you heard what I told Jenkins before I went out?’
‘Sho’ did.’
‘He’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he?’
‘Who—Jenkins? Friend o’ mine? No ’ndeed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I barely know the nigger. Up till night befo’ las’ we was perfect strangers.’
‘You were pretty chummy with him tonight. You and he came here together.’
‘Purely accidental, mistuh. Jes’ happen’ to meet him on the street; he was on his way here; I come along too, thinkin’ the man might gimme some high lowdown. Chummy? Shuh! Didn’ you and the doc burst in on us in the front room there where we was almost ’bout to fight? Friend o’ mine! ’Deed you wrong there, brother. I don’ have nothin’ to do with gangsters, gunmen, killers, or no folks like that. I lives above reproach. Ask anybody.’
Jinx’s jaw sagged, his scowl faded into a stare of amazement. It was perhaps the first time in his life when he had failed to greet the unexpected obdurately. Not even the announcement of his arrest for murder had jolted him as did this. He had never been excessively articulate, but his silence now was the silence of one struck dumb.
‘All right, Brown,’ Dart said. ‘I’m glad to hear that.’
‘Yes, suh,’ vowed Bubber, but he did not look at Jinx.
‘Now listen, you people,’ went on Dart. ‘I’m letting you go, with the exception of Jenkins and Hicks, but you’re not to leave town until further word from me. Jones, that means you too. I’m sorry to have you lose any time from your job, but you may have to. Can you manage it?’
‘Yas, indeed,’ smiled Easley Jones. ‘I’m layin’ over till Monday anyhow, y’see, and another day or two won’ matter. I can fix it up with the boss-man—no trouble ’tall.’
‘Good. Then you and the others are free to go.’
The word ‘go’ was scarcely out of his mouth before the whole place went suddenly black.
‘Hey—what the hell!’
Even the hall lights were gone. In the sudden dark, Mrs Snead screamed aloud, ‘Sweet Jesus have mercy!’ There was a quick soft rustle and bustle. Dart remembered that Jinx was nearest to the hall-door. ‘Look out for Jenkins!’ he yelled. ‘Block that door—he’s pullin’ a fast one!’
He reached into his pocket for the flashlight he had dropped there, and at the same time Dr Archer remembered his. The two fine beams of white light shot forth together, toward the spot where Jinx had been standing; he was not there. The lights swept toward the door, to reveal Officer Green, who had automatically
obstructed the exit, earnestly embracing Jinx’s long form, and experiencing no small difficulty in holding the young man back. At the same time Jinx looked back over his shoulder and saw the two spots of light. To him they must have appeared to be the malevolent eyes of some gigantic monster; for with a supreme effort he wriggled out of Green’s uncertain hold, and might have fled down the stairs and out into the night, had he not tripped and fallen in the hall. Green, following him blindly, tripped over him, landed upon him, and so remained until Dart’s pursuing flashlight revealed the tableau.
‘Smart boy,’ muttered the detective grimly, for it did not seem to him that Jinx’s behaviour might have been occasioned by momentary panic. ‘Who’s workin’ with you? Who switched off those lights? Where’s the switch?’
Under Green’s weight, it was all Jinx could do to answer, ‘Dam’ ’f I know!’
‘Oh, no? Got bracelets, Green? Use ’em. Where the—’
A deep strong voice in the middle of the death room struck silence to all the rising babel.
‘Wait!’
Profound, abrupt quiet.
‘You will find a switch in this room beside the rear door.’
Somebody drew a single sharp startled breath. Dr Archer, who had not moved from where he had been standing, swung his light around toward the sound. It fell on the head and shoulders of a stranger, seated in Frimbo’s chair.
Through the subsequent silence came Martha Crouch’s voice, uttering one lone, incredulous word:
‘Frimbo!’
From the hall Dart called: ‘Find that switch!’ One of the patrolmen stationed inside the room obeyed. The horizontal beam, and the bright sharp extension light came on together as suddenly as they had gone out. Dart came rushing back into the room. He halted, staring like everyone else with utterly unbelieving eyes at the figure that sat in the chair from which the dead body had been removed: a black man wearing a black robe and a black silk head-band; a man with fine, almost delicate features, gleaming, deep-set black eyes, and an expression of supreme intelligence and tranquillity.
The Conjure-Man Dies Page 13