Murder in the Gunroom

by H. Beam Piper

  CHAPTER 12

  Gresham must have been waiting inside the door; as soon as Rand came uponto the porch, he opened it, and motioned the detective inside. Beyond ahasty greeting as Rand passed the threshold, he did not speak until theywere seated in the gunroom upstairs. Then he came straight to the point.

  "Jeff, can you spare the time from this work you're doing at theFlemings' to investigate this Rivers business?" he asked. "And how muchwould an investigation cost me? It's got to be a blitz job. I'm notinterested in getting anybody convicted in court; I just want the casecleared up in a hurry."

  "Well--" Rand puffed at the cigar Gresham had given him, watching the ashform on the end. "I don't work by the day, Stephen. I take a lump-sumfee, and, of course, it's to my interest to get a case cleared up as soonas I can. But I can't set any time limit on a job like this. This Riverskilling has more angles than _Nude Descending a Staircase_; I don't knowhow much work I'll have to do, or even what kind."

  "Well, it'll have to be fast," Gresham told him urgently. "Look. I didn'tkill Arnold Rivers. I hated his guts, and I think whoever did it ought toget a medal and a testimonial dinner, but I did not kill him. You believeme?"

  "I'm inclined to," Rand replied. "In your law practice, you know what alying client is letting himself in for. As my client, you wouldn't lie tome. You seem to think you may be suspected of purging Rivers. But why? Isthere any reason, aside from that homemade North & Cheney he sold you,why anybody would think you'd killed him?"

  "Great God, yes!" Gresham exclaimed. "Now look. I'm not worried aboutbeing railroaded for this. I didn't do it, and I can beat any case thathalf-assed ex-ambulance-chaser, Farnsworth, could dream up against me.But I can't afford even to be mentioned in connection with this. You knowwhat that would do to me, in town. I just can't get mixed up in this, atall. I want you to see to it that I don't."

  "That sounds like a large order." The ash was growing on Rand's cigar;he took another heavy drag at it. "But why necessarily you? Rivers hadplenty of other enemies."

  "Yes, but, dammit, they weren't all in his shop, last evening. Just me.And one other. The one who killed him."

  "On your way out from town?" Rand inquired.

  "Yes. I stopped at his place, about a quarter to nine. I was sore as hellabout the hooking he gave me on that North & Cheney, falsely so-called,and I decided to stop and have it out with him. We had words, most ofthem unpleasant. I told him, for one thing, that Lane Fleming's deathhadn't pulled his bacon off the fire, that I was going to start the samesort of action against him on my own account. But that isn't the point.The point is that when I was going in, this la-de-da clerk of his, CecilGillis, was coming out. He got into his car and drove away, leaving mealone with Rivers. He'll be the first one the police talk to, and he'lltell them all about it."

  "That does put you back of the eight ball." Rand dropped the ash into atray and looked at it curiously. It looked like the sort of ash he hadseen at Rivers's shop, but he couldn't be sure. "But if it can be provedthat Rivers was alive after nine twenty, when you got here, you'll be inthe clear."

  "I don't want to have to clear myself," Gresham insisted. "I don't wantanything to do with it, at all. Here; I'll pay you a thousand down, andtwo more when you have the case completed; I want you to get the murdercleared up before I can be publicly involved in it. I say publicly,because this damned Gillis has probably involved me with the policealready."

  "Well, Gillis isn't exactly in a state of pure sanctity, himself," Randcommented. "As a suspect, the smart handicappers are figuring him to runwell inside the money. For instance, you know, there have been storiesabout him and Mrs. Rivers."

  Gresham snapped his fingers. "Damned if there haven't, now!" he said."You talk to Adam Trehearne. He did business with Rivers--there wasn'tmuch in his line Rivers and Umholtz were able to fake--and differenttimes he's gone to Rivers's shop and there'd be nobody around, and thenGillis would come in from the house, smelling of Chanel Number Five.Mrs. Rivers uses Chanel Number Five. Maybe you have something there.If Cecil thought he could marry the business, with Rivers out of theway.... You'll take the case, won't you, Jeff?"

  "Oh, certainly," Rand assured him. "Now, all they have on you is thatthere was ill-feeling between you and Rivers about that fake North &Cheney, and that you were in Rivers's shop yesterday evening?"

  Rand's new client grimaced. "I wish that were all!" he said. "The worstpart of it is the way Rivers was killed. See, back in Kaiser Willie'swar, before I was assigned a company of my own, I was regimentalbayonet-instruction officer. And after we got to France, I alwayscarried a rifle and bayonet at the front; hell, I must have killedclose to a dozen Krauts just the way Rivers was killed. And duringSchicklgruber's war, I volunteered as bayonet instructor for the localHome Guard."

  "My God!" Rand made a wry face. "There must be close to a hundred peoplearound here who'd know that, and all of them are probably convinced thatyou killed Rivers, and are expressing that opinion at the top of theirvoices to all comers. You don't want a detective, you want a magician!"He took another drag at the cigar, and blew smoke through a circulargun-rack beside him. "What sort of a character is this Farnsworth,anyhow?" he asked. "Before the war, I had all the D.A.'s in the statetyped and estimated, but since I got back--"

  Gresham slandered the county prosecutor's legitimacy. "God-damnheadline-hunting little egotist! He's running for re-election thisyear, too."

  "One way, that could be bad. On the other hand, it might be easy to throwa scare into him.... Stephen, when you were at Rivers's, were you smokinga cigar?"

  Gresham shook his head. "No. I threw my cigar away when I got out of thecar, and I didn't light another one till I got home. If you remember, Iwas lighting it when I came in here."

  "Yes; so you were. Well, I don't suppose, in view of the state ofrelations between you and Rivers, that you had a drink with him, either?"

  "I wouldn't drink that guy's liquor if I were dying of snakebite, and hewouldn't offer me a drink if he knew I was," Gresham declared.

  "Well, did you notice, back near the fireplace, a low table with a fifthof Haig & Haig Pinchbottle, and a couple of glasses, and a siphon, and soon, on it?"

  "I saw the table. There was an ashtray on it, and a book--I think it wasGluckman's _United States Martial Pistols and Revolvers_--but no bottle,or siphon, or glasses."

  "All right, then; it was the killer." Rand explained about the drinks,and the cigar-ashes. He went on to tell about the destruction of Rivers'srecord-cards.

  "I don't get that." Gresham was puzzled. "Unless it was young Gillis,after all. He could have been knocking down on Rivers, and Rivers caughthim at it."

  "I'd thought of that," Rand admitted. "But I doubt if Rivers would sitdown and drink with him, while accusing him of theft. And I can't seem tofind anything around Rivers's place that looks as though it might havebeen stolen from the Fleming collection, either.... Oh, and that remindsme: If you have time this afternoon, I wonder if you'd come along with meto the Flemings' and see just what's missing. I'll have to know that, inany case, and there's a good possibility that the thefts from thecollection and the killing of Rivers are related."

  "Yes, of course," Gresham agreed. "And suppose we take Pierre Jarrettalong with us. He knows that collection as well as I do; he'll spotanything I miss. He works at home; I'll call him now. We can pick him upbefore we go to the Flemings'."

  They went into Gresham's bedroom, where there was a phone, and Greshamtalked to Pierre Jarrett. It was arranged that he should pick Jarrett upwith his car and come to the Flemings', while Rand went there directly.

  Then Rand used the phone to call his office in New Belfast. He talked toDave Ritter, explaining the situation to date.

  "I'm going to need some help," he continued. "I want you to come here andget a room at the Rosemont Inn, under your own name. I'll see you thereabout five thirty. And bring with you a suit of butler's livery, orreasonable facsimile. I believe there will be a vacancy in the Fleminghousehold tomorrow
or the next day, and I want you ready to take over.And bring a small gun with you; something you can wear under said livery.That .357 Colt of yours is a little too conspicuous. You'll find a .380Beretta in the top right-hand drawer of my office desk, with a box ofammunition and a couple of spare clips."

  "Right. I'll be at Rosemont Inn at five thirty," Ritter promised. "Andsay, Tip was in, this morning, with a lot of dope on the Fleming estate.Want me to let you have it now, or shall I give it to you when I seeyou?"

  "You have notes? Bring them along; I'll be seeing you in a couple ofhours."

  He parted from Gresham, going out and getting in his car. As Gresham gothis own car out of the garage and drove off toward Pierre Jarrett'shouse, Rand started in the opposite direction, toward Rosemont.

  About a half-mile from Gresham's he caught an advancing gleam of white onthe highway ahead of him and pulled to the side of the road, waitinguntil the State Police car drew up and stopped. In it were Mick McKenna,Aarvo Kavaalen, and a third man, a Nordic type, in an untidy brown suit.

  "Hi, Jeff," McKenna greeted him, as Rand got out of his car and cameacross the road. "This is Gus Olsen, investigator for the D.A.'s office.Jeff Rand; Tri-State Agency," he introduced.

  "Hey!" Olsen yelled. "We been lookin' for you! Where you been?"

  Rand raised an eyebrow at McKenna.

  "You just came from where we're going," the State Police sergeantsurmised. "Was Gresham at home?"

  "He was; he's gone now," Rand said. "He and another man are going to helpme check up on what's missing from the Fleming collection."

  "Hey!" Olsen exploded. "What I told you, now; he run ahead of us with atip-off! Gresham's skipped out, now!"

  "What is all this?" Rand wanted to know. "What's he screaming about,Mick?"

  "Like he don't know!" Olsen vociferated. "He tipped off Gresham so's hecould skip out; I'll bet he's in it with Gresham!"

  "Pay no attention," McKenna advised. "He doesn't know what the score is;hell, he doesn't even know what teams are playing."

  "Now you look here!" Olsen bawled. "We'll see what Mr. Farnsworth has tosay about this. You're supposed to cooperate with us, not go fraternizin'with a lot of suspects. Why, it's plain as anything; him and Gresham'sin it together. I bet that was why he come around, the first thing in themorning, to find the body!"

  Kavaalen, behind the wheel, turned around and began jabbering at Olsen,in the back seat, in something that sounded like Swedish. Most Finnscan speak Swedish, and Rand was wishing he could understand it. Thecorporal's remarks ran to about a paragraph, and must have been downrightincendiary. At least, Olsen seemed to catch fire from them. He rose inhis seat, waving his arms and howling back in the same language.

  "Shut up, goddammit, _shut up_!" McKenna bellowed into his face. "Shut upbefore I sling your ass to hell out of this car! I'm talking, and I don'twant any goddam jaw from you, Olsen. You either," he barked at Kavaalen,winking at him at the same time.

  Silence fell with a heavy thump in the car.

  "Well, now that the international crisis seems to have been averted,how's about letting me in on it, too?" Rand asked. "For instance, whatabout Gresham? What's he supposed to be a suspect for?"

  "Ah, Olsen suspects him of chopping Rivers up," McKenna replied wearily."See, we questioned this Cecil Gillis, and he told us that last evening,as he was leaving Rivers's, he saw Stephen Gresham drive up and go intothe shop. I wanted to talk to him, myself; I thought he might account forthe cigar-ashes, and the drink-fixings on that table. But when Farnsworthheard about the killing, he sent Olsen around, and when Olsen heard thatGresham had been there, he tried him and convicted him on the spot."

  "Oh, obscenity! Is that what it's about?" Rand exclaimed in disgust."Yes, Gresham told me about that. He didn't have the drink, and he wasn'tsmoking a cigar in the shop, and he left a little after nine. He got homeat nine twenty-two. I can testify to that, myself; I was there at thetime, and so were seven other people." Rand named them. "They dribbledaway at different times during the evening, but Philip Cabot and I stayedtill around eleven." He mentioned the approximate time at which theothers had left. "What time was Rivers killed, or hasn't the time beenfixed?"

  "The M.E. says around ten to two," McKenna said.

  "He could be wrong; them guys only guess, half the time," Olsen argued."And besides, Gresham had it in for Rivers. And that ain't all, neither;he knew how to use a bayonet, too. I seen him, myself, during the war,showin' the Home Guard how to do it, just the way Rivers was killed!" heproduced triumphantly.

  McKenna used a dirty word. "So what? Anybody who's ever had infantrytraining knows that butt-stroke-and-lunge," he retorted. "I learned itmyself, when I was a kid, in '24 and '25, in C.M.T.C. Hell, anybody who'sever seen a war-movie.... If you hadn't lammed out of Sweden when youwere sixteen, to duck conscription, you'd of known it, too."

  "Well, maybe Olsen, or his boss, can explain why Gresham threw thoserecord-cards in the fire," Rand contributed. "You know why Olsen saysGresham had it in for Rivers? Rivers sold Gresham a fake antique, a flintlock navy pistol that had been worked over into something else. Greshamwas going to subpoena those records, when he brought suit againstRivers," Rand lied. "But I can explain why Cecil Gillis might havedestroyed them, after killing Rivers, if he'd been cheating Rivers andRivers caught him at it."

  "Yeah, and that might explain why Gillis was in such a hurry to sic usonto Gresham, too," McKenna added. "I thought of something like that. Andthis high-brown girl that works for Rivers says that Gillis and Mrs.Rivers played all kinds of games together, when Rivers was away."

  "Well, who's in charge of the investigation?" Rand wanted to know. "Iheard, on the radio ..."

  "You're liable to hear anything on the radio, including slanders onBing Crosby's horses. But for the record, I am in charge of thisinvestigation. And don't anybody forget it, either," he added, inthe direction of the rear seat.

  "That's what I thought. Well, Stephen Gresham has just retained me tomake an independent investigation," Rand said. "It is not that he lacksconfidence in the State Police, or in you; he was afraid that otherparties might get into the act and try to make political capital outof it. Which appears to have happened."

  "Well, if Gresham retained you, I'm satisfied," McKenna said. "You cantake care of that end of it. Glad you're in with us."

  "Well, I ain't satisfied!" Olsen began yelling, again. "And Mr.Farnsworth won't be, neither. Why, this here private dick is like asnot workin' for the very man that killed Rivers!"

  McKenna turned slowly in his seat, to face Olsen.

  "One time, ten years ago," he began, "Jeff Rand had a client who wasguilty of the crime he hired Jeff to investigate. It was an arson case;this guy set fire to his own factory, and then got Jeff to run down a lotof fake clues he'd planted. I know about that; I was on the case, myself.That's where I first met Jeff, and he saved me from making a jackass outof myself. And what happened to this guy who'd hired Jeff was somethingthat oughtn't to happen even to Molotov, and it happened because Jefffixed it to happen. If anybody hires Jeff Rand, he's one of two things.He's either innocent, or else he's out of luck.... I don't know why thehell I bother telling you this."

  "Ten to two, you say," Rand considered. "Look. A couple of days ago,Rivers put out a new price-list to his regular customers. A lot of them,in different parts of the country, order by telephone, and some of themlive in the West, where there's a couple of hours' time-difference. Oneof them, calling at, say, eight o'clock, local time, would get his callin at ten, Eastern Standard. If you checked the long-distance calls toRivers's number last night, now, you might get something."

  "Yeah. And if he took a call after nine twenty-two, that would letGresham out. Even Farnsworth could figure that out. Sure. I'll checkright away."

  "Who's at Rivers's now?"

  "Skinner and Jameson, of our gang. And Farnsworth, and some of hisoutfit. And the hell's own slew of reporters, of course," McKenna said."Aarvo's going back there, in a little. We're still try
ing to locate Mrs.Rivers; we haven't been able to, yet. The maid says she went to New Yorkday before yesterday."

  "I'll probably be around at Rivers's, later in the day. I want to checkon that Fleming angle."

  "Uh-huh; I'll be there, in half an hour," Corporal Kavaalen said. "Beseeing you."

  They exchanged so-longs, and Kavaalen backed, and made a U-turn, movingoff in the direction of Rosemont. Olsen's voluble protests drifted backas the car receded. Rand returned to his own car and followed.