Bones Don't Lie
Page 19
“The killing of Walter Keene was a matter of impulse. But your other crimes were executed with precise premeditation. Tracy came twice to the laboratory to see you the day of his death. Probably he was putting increasing pressure on you to obtain the data on your nitrogen tests. So you decided to kill him.
“At the same time, you discovered—maybe Tracy told you about it—that young Locke had found your research laboratory beneath the open hearth furnace. Locke was dangerous for several reasons. You knew his habit of napping in odd places. So you followed him to the plate mill and managed to spill acid on the crane ropes as they dragged on the ground, hoping a falling plate would eliminate Locke. You were nearly successful. But your presence in the plate mill was noted by the crane operator who mentioned it to me when I questioned him later. Also the fact that acid had been used was, I found, a most revealing circumstance.”
Ray was noting the courteous manner in which Ulysses Flint still addressed Clara, even while he accused her of unbelievable crimes. Evidently, the big man’s deference toward women was something very deeply instilled.
“You were unsuccessful in your attempt on Locke,” the General resumed. “But you got Tracy satisfactorily, Miss Dunne. You followed him from the Test Department building, struck him with your spike-heel, then lifted his head between the shear blades. That, again, was a crime which would not normally he associated with a woman.
“After concluding two killings without detection, I’m rather afraid you approached the state known as ‘kill-crazy.’ One life or a dozen, what difference did it make so long as you could safeguard the secret of the Locke Process, and insure that it would become the Dunne Process? You made another abortive murder attempt, this time against a meddlesome person by the name of U. G. Flint.” His blunt fingers rubbed the bruise on his head tenderly. “Fortunately, I was saved from suffocation or roasting by my young friend Locke.”
He stopped and Clara Dunne found her voice.
“The case you’ve built against me sounds quite convincing,” she said icily. “Luckily for me, it is entirely supposition without a shred of actual proof. Even if the mark of my heel plate should coincide with the bruise on your head, Mr. Flint, I believe any jury would take into consideration the fact that someone besides myself might have used the shoe.”
“You’re quite right,” the General admitted. “My evidence is strong: your ability to operate a steam hammer; your use of acid upon the wire ropes of the plate mill crane; the timing of your movements throughout; and most conclusive, the marks of your heel plate. First class evidence, but circumstantial—all of it. It would be exceedingly difficult to bang a pretty woman on circumstantial evidence alone. Furthermore, I hate circumstantial evidence. It’s always sloppy, and more than once it has hanged an innocent person. Therefore, I decided to catch you in the act of attempted murder, red-handed, as the expression goes. And that I have just done, Miss Dunne, with live bait in the person of young Locke.”
“You still can’t prove…”
“This morning,” the General said, “I told you, quite casually, that Locke had phoned me and would be in the lab this evening. I also mentioned that he had hinted at something concerning a new nitrogen process. I said nothing definite but contrived to give you the idea that after Locke had once seen me, you would be exposed. Your guilty mind, I knew, would read between the lines and you would make another effort to kill.”
His eyes roamed the circle of tense faces. “The rest of you were requested to be in Tracy’s office at the Administration Building at eight. I wished to leave the coast absolutely clear for Miss Dunne. But she gave me, again, a demonstration of her intelligence and cunning. Evidently she sensed the trap, and, investigating, discovered that all except herself were to be elsewhere. So she called the plant switchboard, pretending to be speaking at my request, and asked that you all be notified that the place of meeting had been changed to the chemical laboratory. Thus she expected to have all the suspects on the scene of her latest killing…the killing of Raymond Locke.
“In only one respect did she nearly slip. She failed to include Bixler among my invited guests. And, accordingly, having waited until everyone else was assembled here tonight, she came down to make her attempt. Instead she ran into Bixler at the foot of the stairs. Had Bixler been a single minute later he might have blundered into her in the very act of striking down young Locke.
“As it happened, she did meet him and therefore went back upstairs for a moment. Then she returned to stage her third murder, which Lieutenant Lambert and I have recorded on infra-red movie film through the Judas holes we bored in the wall of Ashley’s office. That film, Miss Dunne, will provide proof that cannot fail to stand up against the most prejudiced jury.”
Clara Dunne was speechless. But the way she kept her poise, even when she realized that she was hopelessly trapped, was truly remarkable.
Lieutenant Lambert stepped forward. “Clara Dunne,” he said, repeating the formula ritual, “you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Keene and Leonard Tracy. I have to warn you that anything you say may be used against you.”
“I have nothing to say,” Clara told him stonily.
Ray said, “I have!” He fingered the swelling lump at the back of his head. “I was live bait, was I? Well, suppose I’d been shot? Or stabbed! It was rather a long chance, wasn’t it, to take with a man’s life?”
The General grinned. “I thought you might feel that way, Ray. That’s the reason I didn’t tell you the whole plan. I knew, of course, that Miss Dunne would follow her usual pattern; first the slipper, stunning the victim, then machinery of some sort to finish the job. It’s been a case of ‘heads, you lose,’ from the very beginning. There was no reason for her to deviate in this case. So I took the precaution of learning how to control each machine in this laboratory and I was ready to step out instantly. Which I did.”
“Lots of fun,” Ray said bitterly, “being batted over the head and then nearly squeezed to death!”
“A sore head,” Ulysses Flint observed cheerfully, “is a very small price to pay for what you have achieved, Ray. You’re quite vindicated, of course, on every count—you and Cannon both. Incidentally, Cannon, I thought I specifically ordered you to keep away from Ironton.”
It was Jackie North who answered. “I phoned him. After the message that I was to come here instead of to Mr. Tracy’s office, I knew something was in the wind.”
“My curiosity got the better of me. I just couldn’t stay away,” Cannon added.
“Fortunately you did no harm.” The General turned again to Ray. “When the contents of Miss Dunne’s safe deposit box are examined,” he said, “as they will be in the due process of law, I feel quite certain there will be data there regarding your father’s nitrogen fixation process. I also feel sure New York—the bank, you know—will be only too glad to help you get the process into general usage.” The big man gave him a friendly grin. “You should find yourself an exceedingly wealthy young man.”
Color touched the prison pallor of Ray Locke’s cheeks. His eyes met those of Jackie North. “If I’m going to be rich,” he said, “one of the most important things I’ll need is a good secretary.”
Jackie North smiled and lowered her eyes.
Ray reached for the dice in his vest pocket, rattled them in his loosely cupped hand.
“Bones don’t lie, Bixler,” he remarked with an air of triumph. “But it looks as if they meant a couple of other guys.”
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