The Roman Hat Mystery - (23)

“It is not so complicated as it seems at first hearing,” returned the Inspector. “Remember that Barry is an exceptionally clever young man and above all an excellent actor. No one but an accomplished actor could have carried off such a plan. The procedure was simple, after all; his hardest job was to keep to his time-schedule. If he was seen by any one he was disguised. The only dangerous part of his scheme was the getaway—when he walked down the aisle and went backstage through the box stagedoor. The aisle he took care of by keeping an eye out for the usher while he sat next to Field. He had known beforehand, of course, that the ushers, due to the nature of the play, kept their stations more or less faithfully, but he counted on his disguise and hypodermic to help him through any emergency that might arise. However, Madge O’Connell was lax in her duty and so even this was in his favor. He told me last night, not without a certain pride, that he had prepared for every contingency.... As for the stagedoor, he knew from experience that at that period in the play’s progress practically every one was on the stage. The technical men were busy at their stations, too.... Remember that he planned the crime knowing in advance the exact conditions under which he would have to operate. And if there was an element of danger, of uncertainty—well, it was all a risky business, wasn’t it?—he asked me last night, smiling; and I had to admire him for his philosophy if for nothing else.”
    The Inspector shifted restlessly. “This makes clear, I hope, just how Barry did the job. As for our investigation.... With the hat-deductions made and our knowledge of the murderer’s identity, we still had no inkling of the exact circumstances behind the crime. If you’ve been keeping in mind the material evidence which we had collected by Thursday night, you will see that we had nothing at all with which to work. The best thing we could hope for was that somewhere among the papers for which all of us were looking was a clue which would tie up to Barry. Even that would not be enough, but.... So the next step,” said the Inspector, after a sigh, “was the discovery of the papers in Field’s neat hiding-place at the top of the bed-canopy in his apartment. This was Ellery’s work from start to finish. We had found out that Field had no safety-deposit box, no post-office box, no outside residence, no friendly neighbor or tradesman, and that the documents were not in his office. By a process of elimination Ellery insisted that they must be somewhere in Field’s rooms. You know how this search ended—an ingenious bit of pure reasoning on Ellery’s part. We found Morgan’s papers; we found Cronin’s stuff relating to the gang activities—and by the way, Tim, I’m going to be keenly alive to what happens when we start on the big clean-up—and we found finally a wad of miscellaneous papers. Among these were Michaels’ and Barry’s.... You’ll remember, Tim, that Ellery, from the handwriting analysis business, deduced that possibly we would find the originals of Barry’s papers—and so we did.
    “Michaels’ case was interesting. That time he went to Elmira on the ‘petty larceny’ charge, it was through Field’s clever manipulations with the law. But Field had the goods on Michaels and filed the documentary evidence of the man’s real guilt away in his favorite hiding-place, in the event that he might wish to use it at some future date. A very saving person, this Field.... When Michaels was released from prison Field used him unscrupulously for his dirty work, holding the threat of those papers over the man’s head.
    “Now Michaels had been on the lookout for a long time. He wanted the papers badly, as you may imagine. At every opportunity he searched the apartment for them. And when he didn’t find them time after time, he became desperate. I don’t doubt that Field, in his devilishly sardonic way, enjoyed the knowledge that Michaels was ransacking the place day after day.... On Monday night Michaels did what he said he did—went home and to bed. But early Tuesday morning, when he read the papers and learned that Field had been killed, he realized that the jig was up. He had to make one last search for the papers—if he didn’t find them, the police might and he would be in hot water. So he risked running into the police net when he returned to Field’s rooms Tuesday morning. The story about the check was nonsense, of course.
    “But let’s get on to Barry. The original papers we found in the hat marked ‘Miscellaneous’ told a sordid story. Stephen Barry, to make it short and ugly, has a strain of negroid blood in his veins. He was born in the South of a poor family and there was definite documentary evidence—letters, birth-records and the like—to prove that his blood had the black taint. Now Field, as you know, made it his business to run things like this to earth. In some way he got hold of the papers, how long ago we can’t say, but certainly quite a while back. He looked up Barry’s status at the time and found him to be a struggling actor, on his uppers more often than he was in funds. He decided to let the fellow alone for the time. If ever Barry came into money or in the limelight, there would be time enough to blackmail him.... Field’s wildest dreams could not have foreseen Barry’s engagement to Frances Ives-Pope, daughter of a multi-millionaire and blue-blood society girl. I needn’t explain what it would have meant to Barry to have the story of his mixed blood become known to the Ives-Popes. Besides—and this is quite important—Barry was in a constant state of impoverishment due to his gambling. What money he earned went into the pockets of the bookmakers at the race-track and in addition he had contracted enormous debts which he could never have wiped out unless his marriage to Frances went through. So pressing was his need, in fact, that it was he who subtly urged an early marriage. I have been wondering just how he regarded Frances sentimentally. I don’t think, in all fairness to him, that he was marrying wholly because of the money involved. He really loves her, I suppose—but then, who wouldn’t?”
    The old man smiled reminiscently and went on. “Field approached Barry some time ago with the papers—secretly, of course. Barry paid what he could, but it was woefully little and naturally did not satisfy the insatiable blackmailer. He kept putting Field off desperately. But Field himself was getting into hot water because of his own gambling and was ‘calling in’ his little business deals one by one. Barry, pushed to the wall, realized that unless Field were silenced everything would be lost. He planned the murder. He saw that even if he did manage to raise the $50,000 Field demanded—a palpable impossibility— and even if he did get the original papers, yet Field might still wreck his hopes by merely circulating the story. There was only one thing to do—kill Field. He did it.”
    “Black blood, eh?” murmured Cronin. “Poor devil.”
    “You would scarcely guess it from his appearance,” remarked Sampson. “He looks as white as you or I.”
    “Barry isn’t anywhere near a full-blooded negro,” protested the Inspector. “He has just a drop in his veins—just a drop, but it would have been more than enough for the Ives-Popes.... To get on. When the papers had been discovered and read—we knew everything. Who—how—why the crime was committed. So we took stock of our evidence to bring about a conviction. You can’t hale a man into court on a murder charge without evidence.... Well, what do you think we had? Nothing!
    “Let me discuss the clues which might have been useful as evidence. The lady’s purse—that was out. Valueless, as you know.... The source of the poison—a total failure. Incidentally, Barry did procure it exactly as Dr. Jones suggested—Jones, the toxicologist. Barry bought ordinary gasoline and distilled the tetra ethyl lead from it. There was no trace left.... Another possible clue—Monte Field’s hat. It was gone.... The extra tickets for the six vacant seats—we had never seen them and there seemed little chance that we ever would.... The only other material evidence—the papers—indicated motive but proved nothing. By this token Morgan might have committed the crime, or any member of Field’s criminal organization.
    “Our only hope for bringing about a conviction depended upon our scheme to have Barry’s apartment burglarized in the hope that either the hat, or the tickets, or some other clue like the poison or the poison-apparatus, would be found. Velie got me a professional housebreaker and Barry’s apartment was rifled Friday night while he was acting his rôle in the theatre. Not a trace of any of these clues came to light. The hat, the tickets, the poison—everything had been destroyed. Obviously, Barry would have done that; we could only make sure.
    “In desperation, I called a meeting of a number of the Monday night audience, hoping that I would find someone who remembered seeing Barry that night. Sometimes, you know, people recall events later which they forgot completely in the excitement of a previous quizzing. But this too, as it happened, was a failure. The only thing of value that turned up was the orangeade boy’s testimony about seeing Field pick up an evening bag in the alley. This got us nowhere as far as Barry was concerned, however. And remember that when we questioned the cast Thursday night we got no direct evidence from them.
    “So there we were with a beautifully hypothetical statement of facts for a jury, but not a shred of genuine evidence. The case we had to present would have offered no difficulties to a shrewd defending attorney. It was all circumstantial evidence, based chiefly on reasoning. You know as well as I do what a chance such a case would have in court.... Then my troubles really began, for Ellery had to leave town.
    “I racked my brains—the few I have.” Queen scowled at his empty coffee-cup. “Things looked black enough. How could I convict a man without evidence? It was maddening. And then Ellery did me the final service of wiring me a suggestion.”
    “A suggestion?” asked Cronin.
    “A suggestion that I do a little blackmailing myself....”
    “Blackmailing yourself?” Sampson stared. “I don’t see the point.”
    “Trust Ellery to make a point that on the surface is obscure,” retorted the Inspector. “I saw at once that the only course left open to me was to manufacture evidence!”
    Both men frowned in puzzlement.
    “It’s simple enough,” said Queen. “Field was killed by an unusual poison. And Field was killed because he was blackmailing Barry. Wasn’t it fair for me to assume that if Barry were suddenly blackmailed on the identical score, he would again use poison—and in all likelihood the same poison? I don’t have to tell you that ‘Once a poisoner always a poisoner.’ In the case of Barry, if I could only get him to try to use that tetra ethyl lead on somebody else, I’d have him! The poison is almost unknown—but I needn’t explain further. You can see that if I caught him with tetra ethyl lead, that would be all the evidence I needed.
    “How to accomplish the feat was another matter.... The blackmail opportunity fitted the circumstances perfectly. I actually had the original papers pertaining to Barry’s parentage and tainted blood. Barry thought these destroyed—he had no reason to suspect that the papers he took from Field were clever forgeries. If I blackmailed him he was in the same boat as before. Consequently he would have to take the same action.
    “And so I used our friend Charley Michaels. The only reason I utilized him was that to Barry it would seem logical that Michaels, Field’s crony and bully and constant companion, should be in possession of the original papers. I got Michaels to write a letter, dictated by me. The reason I wanted Michaels to write it was that possibly Barry, through association with Field, was familiar with the man’s handwriting. This may seem a small point but I couldn’t take any chances. If I slipped up on my ruse, Barry would see through it at once and I’d never get him again.
    “I enclosed a sheet of the original papers in the letter, to show that the new blackmailing threat had teeth. I stated that Field had brought Barry copies—the sheet enclosed proved my statement. Barry had no reason in the world to doubt that Michaels was milking him as his master had done before. The letter was so worded as to be an ultimatum. I set the time and the place and, to make a long story short, the plan worked....
    “I guess that’s all, gentlemen. Barry came, he had his trusty little hypodermic filled with tetra ethyl lead, also a flask—an exact replica, you see, of the Field crime except for locale. My man—it was Ritter—was instructed to take no chances. As soon as he recognized Barry he covered him and raised the alarm. Luckily we were almost at their elbows behind the bushes. Barry was desperate and would have killed himself and Ritter, too, if he’d had half a chance.”
    There was a significant silence as the Inspector finished, sighed, leaned forward and took some snuff.
    Sampson shifted in his chair. “Listens like a thriller, Q,” he said admiringly. “But I’m not clear on a few points. For example, if this tetra ethyl lead is so little known, how on earth did Barry ever find out about it—to the degree of actually making some himself?”
    “Oh.” The Inspector smiled. “That worried me from the moment Jones described the poison. I was in the dark even after the capture. And yet—it just goes to show how stupid I am—the answer was under my nose all the time. You will remember that at the Ives-Pope place a certain Dr. Cornish was introduced. Now Cornish is a personal friend of the old financier and both of them are interested in medical science. In fact, I recall Ellery’s asking at one time: ‘Didn’t Ives-Pope recently donate $100,000 to the Chemical Research Foundation?’ That was true. It was on the occasion of a meeting in the Ives-Pope house one evening several months ago that Barry accidentally found out about tetra ethyl lead. A delegation of scientists had called upon the magnate, introduced by Cornish, to request his financial aid in the Foundation. In the course of the evening, the talk naturally turned to medical gossip and the latest scientific discoveries. Barry admitted that he overheard one of the directors of the Foundation, a famous toxicologist, relate to the group the story of the poison. At this time Barry had no idea that he would put the knowledge to use; when he decided to kill Field, he saw the advantages of the poison and its untraceable source immediately.”
    “What the deuce was the significance of that message you sent to me by Louis Panzer Thursday morning, Inspector?” inquired Cronin curiously. “Remember? Your note requested that I watch Lewin and Panzer when they met to see if they knew each other. As I reported to you, I asked Lewin later and he denied any acquaintance with Panzer. What was the idea?”
    “Panzer,” repeated the Inspector softly. “Panzer has always intrigued me, Tim. At the time I sent him to you, remember the hat deductions which absolved him had not yet been made.... I sent him to you merely out of a sense of curiosity. I thought that if Lewin recognized him, it might point to a connection between Panzer and Field. My thought was not borne out; it wasn’t too hopeful to begin with. Panzer might have been acquainted with Field on the outside without Lewin’s knowledge. On the other hand, I didn’t particularly want Panzer hanging around the theatre that morning; so the errand did both of us a lot of good.”
    “Well, I hope you were satisfied with that package of newspapers I sent you in return, as you instructed,” grinned Cronin.
    “How about the anonymous letter Morgan received? Was that a blind, or what?” demanded Sampson.
    “It was a sweet little frame-up,” returned Queen grimly. “Barry explained that to me last night. He had heard of Morgan’s threat against Field’s life. He didn’t know, of course, that Field was blackmailing Morgan. But he thought it might plant a strong false trail if he got Morgan to the theatre on a thin story Monday night. If Morgan didn’t come, there was nothing lost. If he did—He worked it this way. He chose ordinary cheap notepaper, went down to one of the typewriter agencies and, wearing gloves, typed the letter, signed it with that useless scrawled initial, and mailed the thing from the general post-office. He was careful about fingerprints and certainly the note could never be traced to him. As luck would have it, Morgan swallowed the bait and came. The very ridiculousness of Morgan’s story and the obvious falsity of the note, as Barry figured, made Morgan a strong suspect. On the other hand, Providence seems to provide compensations. For the information we got from Morgan about Field’s blackmailing activities did Mr. Barry a heap of harm. He couldn’t have foreseen that, though.”
    Sampson nodded. “I can think of only one other thing. How did Barry arrange for the purchase of the tickets—or did he arrange for it at all?”
    “He certainly did. Barry convinced Field that as a matter of fairness to himself, the meeting and the transfer of papers should take place in the theatre under a cloak of absolute secrecy. Field was agreeable and was easily persuaded to purchase the eight tickets at the box-office. He himself realized that the six extra tickets were needed to insure privacy. He sent Barry seven and Barry promptly destroyed them all except LL30 Left.”
    The Inspector rose, smiling tiredly. “Djuna!” he said in a low voice. “Some more coffee.”
    Sampson stopped the boy with a protesting hand. “Thanks, Q, but I’ve got to be going. Cronin and I have loads of work on this gang affair. I couldn’t rest, though, until I got the whole story from your own lips.... Q, old man,” he added awkwardly, “I’m really sincere when I say that I think you’ve done a remarkable piece of work.”
    “I never heard of anything like it,” put in Cronin heartily. “What a riddle, and what a beautiful piece of clear reasoning, from beginning to end!”
    “Do you really think so?” asked the Inspector quietly. “I’m so glad, gentlemen. Because all the credit rightfully belongs to Ellery. I’m rather proud of that boy of mine....”
    *       *       *       *       *
    When Sampson and Cronin had departed and Djuna had retired to his tiny kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes, the Inspector turned to his writing-desk and took up his fountain-pen. He rapidly read over what he had written to his son. Sighing, he put pen to paper once more.
    *       *       *       *       *
    Let’s forget what I just wrote. More than an hour has passed since then. Sampson and Tim Cronin came up and I had to crystallize our work on the case for their benefit. I never saw such a pair! Kids, both of ’em. Gobbled the story as if it were a fairy-tale.... As I talked, I saw with appalling clarity how little I actually did and how much you did. I’m pining for the day when you will pick out some nice girl and be married, and then the whole darned Queen family can pack off to Italy and settle down to a life of peace.... Well, El, I’ve got to dress and go down to headquarters. A lot of routine work has collected since last Monday and my job is just about cut out for me....
    When are you coming home? Don’t think I want to rush you, but it’s so gosh-awful lonesome, son. I—No, I guess I’m selfish as well as tired. Just a doddering old fogey who needs coddling. But you will come home soon, won’t you? Djuna sends his regards. The rascal is taking my ears off with the dishes in the kitchen.
    Your loving
    Father
    THE END
    Transcriber’s Notes
    1. Italicised words are indicated by underscores.
    2. Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of the paragraph.
    3. Misspelled words have been corrected (see below). Archaic, inconsistent and alternative spellings have been left unchanged. Hyphenation has not been standardised.
    4. Ellipsis placement has been modified in order to facilitate text reflow. In most cases ellipses between sentences have been merged with the closing punctuation of the preceding sentence. Ellipses between words within a sentence have had spaces added before and after.
    5. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the Levenshtein Distance.
    Corrections:
    Page      Source            Correction        Edit distance
    v        57                56                 1 vi        270               271                1 xv        hypochrondiac     hypochondriac      2 152       of couse          of course          1 174       Professsor        Professor          1 175       æsophagus         œsophagus          1 226       distate           distaste           1