Minute Mysteries [Detectograms] Chapter 9: Part 9

‘Frank has been despondent and talked of suicide for some time. I thought exercise and the open air would do him good, so I suggested a vacation at my place in the country. ‘We’d been there three days, and he seemed in much better spirits. Then, Thursday morning, after we’d been fishing an hour or so, he said he thought he’d try another stream about a mile away. I was having good luck, so I told him to go ahead and I’d meet him at the cabin later. ‘About eleven o’clock, when I’d caught my limit, I started back. As I neared the cabin, I seemed to have a premonition of trouble, and ran the last few yards. When I opened the door, God! I’ll never forget it! I’d got there not more than five minutes behind him, and yet there he lay—dead! That hideous look on his face! It haunts me! Why couldn’t I have been just a few minutes earlier? ‘A whiskey bottle on the table and the glass which smelled of cyanide told me the story. He’d done it, after all! I’ll never forgive myself,’ Palmer concluded with a sob. ‘Had you any visitors while at camp?’ asked Fordney. ‘No, we hadn’t seen anyone for two days.’ ‘Did your friend smoke?’ ‘Not at all.’ ‘Was the door open or closed when you arrived?’ ‘Why, closed.’ ‘And the windows?’ ‘Closed, too, Professor.’ ‘If you’re innocent, Palmer, why are you lying?’ demanded Fordney. What was the lie? 49 _Sergeant Reynolds’s Theory_ ‘Inspector Kelley picks out such nice messy jobs for me.’ Professor Fordney smiled as Reynolds made a wry face. ‘We found him lying against a boulder about ten feet from the bottom of a fifty-foot embankment of solid rock. While there were no traces of the path of his fall, the concrete road directly above him was stained with blood. I don’t know why people insist on walking along the highway. ‘That’s such a bad curve right there. I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out who struck him. And then, it’s possible for someone to have hit him without knowing it. And I believe the car that did stopped and the driver seeing how badly he was hurt, in fear, drove on.’ ‘What makes you think that, Reynolds?’ ‘There are tracks of a car skidding along the shoulder of the road, and footprints in the blood where the fellow dropped on the pavement. I suppose the poor old man regained consciousness, staggered to his feet, and rolled down the embankment. That finished him. Ugh—it was a messy affair!’ ‘Who is he?’ ‘We’re not sure. The only identification was a small scrap of paper in his pocket with the name Tabor. By a queer coincidence there was a large T deeply cut in the blood-stained boulder which stopped his fall.’ ‘No doubt, Sergeant, the murderers intended you should take exactly the inference you have, but don’t you see t____ w__ n_ b____ b______ t__ r___ a__ t__ b______?’ What did the Professor tell Reynolds? 50 _Daylight Robbery_ ‘I went to the office Thursday to do some work,’ Shaeffer related. ‘About noon, I happened to look out the window and notice a black sedan draw up and two tough-looking fellows get out. They looked suspicious to me, and, as I wasn’t armed, I hastily banged the safe door closed and ran into the washroom—not a bit too soon either. In just a few seconds they came in, one carrying a sawed-off shotgun. I could see them plainly. ‘They looked around for a moment and one said, “If anybody comes in here before we’re through, give it to him.” ‘He then went over to the safe and, after working on it for about five minutes, had it open and took the money. They certainly had a lot of nerve. Even stopped to count it! Then they leisurely strolled out the door. I called Headquarters immediately.’ ‘How much did they get?’ questioned Inspector Kelley. ‘Over fifteen thousand. We hadn’t banked the money from the day before because Thursday was a holiday.’ ‘Get the number of the car?’ ‘No. When it drove up to the office, I didn’t see a license plate on the front, and I couldn’t see the back. When I finished telephoning for the police, it had gone.’ ‘Was there anyone at the office besides you?’ ‘I was alone. A man telephoned an hour before, however, and asked if we were open. I told him no, but I’d be there until about two-thirty. He hung up without answering.’ ‘Well, fellows,’ asked Professor Fordney, of the members of his class in criminology, to whom he was telling the story, ‘why did Inspector Kelley immediately arrest Shaeffer?’ 51 _A Simple Solution_ The sun streamed cheerfully through the window, bringing into lively play the soft tones of the luxurious furnishings, as the two house guests, Professor Fordney and Inspector Kelley, entered the oil magnate’s bedroom. ‘Nothing in here to get excited about,’ said Kelley. Fordney, opening the window and seeing Smith lying on the ground three stories below it, cried, ‘Run downstairs, Inspector. Quick! There he is!’ Kelley nodded, and was on his way. As he hurried out the door, he came face to face with the butler. Fordney eyed the servant suspiciously as he entered. ‘When did you see Mr. Smith last?’ he asked. ‘About an hour ago. He had a telephone call which seemed to excite him and he came right up here to his room.’ ‘Who brought this up?’ Fordney asked, fingering an unopened letter with an illegible postmark. ‘He brought it up himself, sir, saying he was not to be disturbed.’ ‘Anyone been here since?’ Kelley’s noisy entrance interrupted the butler’s ‘No, sir.’ ‘Smith broke his neck. I found this on him,’ he remarked, handing the Professor a note. Ill health and financial trouble have made life a burden. I’m leaving my bedroom for the last time. A three-story drop and my misery will be over. Smith ‘His suicide will be a blow to the oil industry,’ Kelley mused, as Fordney sat down at the desk and began to write with Smith’s fountain pen. ‘His _death_ will be, Inspector,’ said Fordney. ‘Better get the servants together. This is murder—not suicide!’ What reason did Fordney have for making such a statement? 52 _Who?_ ‘I was trying to stop the flow with this, Professor,’ said Weeds, the butler, indicating a blood-covered towel he had just removed from the bed, ‘when Jones struck at me and I dropped it.’ ‘And I’m sorry I missed!’ angrily exclaimed Jones, the colored chauffeur. ‘Never mind that,’ said Inspector Kelley. ‘Did you find her, Weeds?’ asked Professor Fordney. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘She’s a good-looking mulatto,’ remarked Kelley, looking at the maid lying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her right hand outstretched, the wrist deeply cut, rested in a pool of blood on the polished floor. ‘Must have slipped off the bed.’ ‘I don’t think so. The spread hasn’t a wrinkle in it,’ said Fordney, noting the immaculate coverlet of pink lace, the edge caught under the girl’s body. ‘She was almost gone when I found her,’ offered Weeds, ‘and she died before I could get a doctor.’ ‘Is this yours, Jones?’ inquired Fordney, picking up a sharp knife hidden by the girl’s dress. ‘Yes. She wanted it to cut the stems of the flowers I had brought up.’ ‘I didn’t see that knife when I tried to help her,’ said Weeds. ‘Course you didn’t! You put it there!’ shouted Jones angrily. ‘How do you know? You weren’t here. And what’s more, I heard you threaten her last night. You don’t see any flowers here, do you, Inspector?’ quietly asked Weeds. ‘You’re right,’ said Kelley. After whispering to Fordney, he continued, ‘Come on, _you’re_ under arrest. And _you_, we’ll question you later!’ Whom did Kelley arrest—and why? 53 _Murder in the Swamp_ ‘We’d better walk along the edge,’ said Professor Fordney, as they started down the only path leading through the swamp. ‘I never thought of that. I was on the porch when Barton left,’ said Bob, as he trudged along. ‘Ten minutes later, I heard a shot. I ran down the path and found him about five hundred yards from the house, bleeding terribly from a wound in the head. I dashed back for the first-aid kit and bandaged him as best I could. He died shortly afterwards. Then I returned and telephoned you.’ Reaching the body of Barton, he explained, ‘I turned him over so that I could dress his head.’ ‘He must have been shot from over there, because those three sets of footprints are yours and the other one Barton’s,’ said Fordney, after a careful examination. ‘Let’s look in that underbrush.’ Walking into it a few yards, he said, ‘Here’s where the murderer stood, all right. See those powder-marks on the leaves?’ While removing the branch, Fordney cut his finger. ‘Better sterilize that, Professor.’ Back at the cottage, as he was about to pick up a mercurochrome bottle from the kit Bob had used, he observed a spot of blood on the label. Walking over to the basin, he saw Bob in the mirror above it, furtively slip a pair of scissors into the kit. Turning slowly around, he said, ‘I’ll have to hold you on suspicion of murder.’ Why? 54 _Death by Drowning_ ‘We were just getting into our boat,’ said the elder Carroll brother, ‘when we happened to notice Ridge out there in the middle of the river, opposite Wolf’s old abandoned dock, acting very queerly. He jumped up and down in the boat, and then, all of a sudden, grabbed an oar, threw it up in the air, and jumped in. ‘We rowed to the spot, and I dived after him while my brother secured his boat. The current’s fast there, but I’m a strong swimmer. I swam around while my brother rowed about, but we could find no trace of him,’ he concluded. ‘We found the oar all right, in the weeds at Wolf’s dock,’ interjected Riley, of the River Patrol. ‘How wide is the river at that point?’ asked Professor Fordney. ‘About half a mile,’ said Carroll. ‘Pretty lonely, too, isn’t it?’ ‘It is that,’ replied Riley. ‘The coroner’s report says Ridge had received a blow of some kind on the chin. Know anything about it, Carroll?’ inquired Fordney. ‘No, I don’t. Might have hit a rock or the side of the boat when he went over.’ ‘Were you up or down river, from Ridge?’ ‘Up river, about three hundred yards, on the west side.’ ‘Did you and your brother have on bathing-suits at the time?’ ‘I did, but my brother didn’t.’ ‘Are there any blood-stains in Ridge’s boat, Riley?’ ‘Well, there are stains all