Murder at Bayside

by Raymond Robins

  “Controversial perhaps—but true. Tom could not afford any questions or speculations to arise about his gun. If you don’t believe that cartridge-case was important, as long as Charles was alive to testify as to the circumstances under which he found it, I’d recommend to your attention the killing of patrolman William Kohler out in Oakland. Seventeen ejected cartridge-cases were picked up on the scene of the crime, all from a thirty-eight caliber gun. Nevertheless, it was proved from the marks on the primers that two different guns were used. This evidence was offered in court and did much to convince the jury of the guilt of both young men who were on trial.”

  I was surprised to hear this, but I reflected that Tom, in the course of his study of criminal cases, had undoubtedly been apprised of the trial in Oakland and it did much to add to his determination to recover the ejected case.

  “We know pretty much what happened from that point on until after the acquittal,” resumed John Patrick. “By then, as I have said, I had my suspicions, but there was no way in the world to prove them. I realized, of course, that the police would not give up the case, and I was sure, sooner or later, that some member of the family would come under their notice. I decided that neither you nor your brother had alibis capable of standing much scrutiny, so I planned to forestall the troopers and satisfy myself that no one else was involved in the murder. Even at that time, I was sure the affair was by no means ended, although I had great hopes I would be able to prevent any such tragedy as actually occurred.” Edwin spoke up, “I don’t believe, had the police followed your line of reasoning, they would ever have believed you were right. It seems incredible to think any one would actually risk being tried for a murder he committed, because he was so sure no proof could be brought forward. I know what a gambler Tom is, but it is hard for me to believe he gambled with his own life.”

  John Patrick answered grimly, “The conception of the scheme undoubtedly emanated from a gambler’s brain, but I don’t think Tom was ever in very much danger, once the true barrel was disposed of. The thing which worried him most, I should say, was the fear he would be discharged without trial, should the D. A.’s office think to test-fire the pistol. He worked every point out so carefully that he always knew what any one person would do or say before he went ahead with his schemes. Take Lewisholm’s testimony, for instance; when he was discussing the case with his witness, had the witness appeared to see that this thing might have been worked by changing the barrels, Tom would simply have called another expert to testify. Don’t forget, either, Tom had a contempt for criminal trials. He had gotten too many men free himself, when he knew they were guilty, to worry much about regaining his own freedom. The real worry was to get that freedom with no suspicion attached to him, only sympathy for what people would consider the stupidity of the police. This was the part of Tom’s plan which was really subtle and finally betrayed him. His objective was not alone to come out of the trial successfully, but to live the rest of his life a well-thought-of country squire above suspicion.

  “The next step was taken the day Charles showed Tom the empty cartridge-case. If Charles had taken it to the D. A.’s right then, Tom could not have been convicted for murder, but he could have been tried for perjury, and his goal of a peaceful and honored position in the world would not be attained. He did not at once give in to Charles’ demand for blackmail money, but he began to make his preparations. First, he negotiated a large block of securities—or rather had me do it for him. Charles thought this money was to be his, but Tom planned it to be an anchor to the windward, should he need to make a hasty getaway, for now his plans became more sinister. He well knew that paying Charles the demanded blackmail would be but a temporary respite, and he was prepared to gamble once again—permanent security, if he won; if he lost, he still had his freedom.

  “His first move was to try to get the gun back from the D. A.’s, change the firing-pin, and laugh at Charles. This idea was forestalled when the Prosecutor, acting on a hint from me, made excuses for retaining the gun. You see, Tom dared not press the point, I dared not make any accusations, but I did want to know which of the guns admittedly in the possession of the Evans’ men would be the first to disappear.

  “Well, the relentless search for the cartridge-case began. Now the peculiar thing here was both Bob and I saw Charles in possession of it—”

  “What?” I exclaimed. “I didn’t remember that at all.”

  “Why, yes, don’t you remember the morning we went down to breakfast, and Charles dropped it on the hearth?”

  “You mean, when Tom said that Charles was down to his last penny and he had almost lost it?”

  John Patrick nodded. “A penny, my son, is made of copper and should not give off a brassy ring when it hits the hearth. Well, that night Charles’ room was entered. The raid rather threw me off, as I knew Charles was aware that I had appreciated the significance of the object he had dropped, and I figured quite possibly he had staged that little party to throw me off the track, although I did realize that Tom was in the exact place I should have expected to find the person who had committed the burglary. He had simply run down the backstairs and out the door. Then he turned around, pretended he had been chasing the burglar, and came back upstairs again. I realized there was trouble brewing, but I did not know whether the cartridge-case had gone astray and was in the hands of a totally innocent party, or whether the one who had it was entirely aware of the value of his find.

  “Then came the night when we were all drugged. Tom, of course, drugged the whiskey and removed the fuse, as an excuse to absent himself when we were all drinking. He saw the effect it had on all of us, once more taking no chances until he was sure, and then he went about his work methodically. This point confirmed my suspicions that it was still Tom who was looking for the cartridge, although he knew no more about its whereabouts than I did just then. You see, when he met us all coming out of the gun-room, he was not under the influence of the drug; yet he made no comment on our condition, although it must have been very obvious at the time. An innocent man would have behaved far differently.

  “That last search was as unsuccessful as all the rest, so Tom drugged himself to keep from being suspected. Of course, taking the drug five or six hours after we did, he felt its effects long after we had recovered, and so gave credence to his expressed theory that an extra quantity of the drug had been given him in order to cause his death. This was a new development of his plan, the last move he wanted to make. He was preparing the way for the elimination of his cousin. His hand was forced by the telephone call and he knew the game was up, if he ever let Charles go to the District Attorney’s office.”

  “But the footprints?” I inquired, thinking how they had led to my suspicion of Al Herz.

  “Tom faked them clumsily. Shoes too large for him. It was a silly performance, but he was desperate, and anyhow it was done when he still had hopes of finding the cartridge-case. If he had done so, he could have laughed at suspicion; I am inclined to believe, had he been successful, he would have had some story to tell us into which the footprints fitted very neatly.”

  John Patrick tamped a new bowlful of tobacco down in his pipe. “That brings us up to your arrest, Edwin. You put your own finger-prints on the gun the night before in the gun-room when we were all looking at it. Tom planned to have Charles’ death look like suicide, but he saw how useful those finger-prints could be. If murder were suspected, it would be you, not he, who would come under police scrutiny.”

  “How did he get back to the house to kill Charles?” asked Edwin.

  “He took the cruiser as near the blind as he could, anchored her, and rowed over to the blind itself in the dory. To show how careful he was, I want you to notice that he got two ducks—they were on the kitchen table when we were investigating Charles’ death. After he got them, he rowed the dory back to the bayou, came up to the house through the pine woods, where he would not leave any footprints. Of course, he had already made the appointment with Charles when
he saw him—as I’m sure, in spite of his denial, he gained admittance to the upstairs room when he delivered the message. Charles would naturally be eager to make arrangements with Tom, for now he could threaten him with his proposed trip to Baltimore the next day.

  “I have already outlined the way in which Tom accomplished the actual killing. When it was done, he must have hastened back to the cruiser and brought her to the dock in record time, for he appeared on the scene shortly after the body was discovered. And his footprints from the dock to the house were plainly discernible, although there were none there when the plain-clothes man was looking around the first time.

  “I think his interest in your plight was not pretense at all. He wanted to make sure that the police either had an unbeatable case against you, or else were convinced you did the murder but they could never prove it. When he suggested I act in your behalf, I was in a difficult position. The circumstantial evidence was strong against you, and I knew that Lyttle was determined to get some one for this murder. Likewise, I knew I could never get any real proof against Tom; with Charles’ death, the evidence of the cartridge-case became valueless. It might have been picked up at any time, there was no existing proof ever, except Charles’ own word, and now that was gone. Our only chance was for me to reconstruct the crime, to show Tom that I was aware of his guilt, and then suddenly to produce the cartridge-case, the menace from which he had hoped he was forever freed, to do this suddenly, as I say, with the idea that he would break under the strain. I was encouraged to think that such would be the result, for I knew he had provided himself with funds, and that seemed to show he had at last doubted, in a small degree at least, his own ultimate success. As you saw, I was right and he did crack under the strain. He saw the chance to destroy forever the cartridge-case and claim he was acting to save you. But, of course, he destroyed the decoy, not the one I had found in Charles’ pistol clip. And I believe, when Tom heard what an absurdly simple hiding-place it had been in, he began to go to pieces right then. He saw the other one, in my fingers pointing at him, and he realized that he had betrayed himself to me. Without nerve to fight any longer, he fled.”

  Such was the way my chief summed up the Bayside murder mystery. In conclusion, I want to say, I saw it in a different light. I saw it as the struggle between two men, an intellectual conflict, wherein the one, using cunning mental trickery, canny psychological insight, played his game with the rest of us as his unknowing pawns. The other man, watching all the moves carefully, defeated him with his own splendid brain, worked on the criminal’s own psychological make-up, even as he had worked on the rest of us, until John Patrick finally called check and mate, and the game was over.

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