The French Powder Mystery - (16)

"The second unit--that this man worked alone--is irrelevant and useless to determine identity, so we will proceed to the third unit, which is that the murderer, a man, is connected with this establishment. And to the fourth, which is that the murderer has not been in this apartment within the past five weeks.
    "There is, first, Mr. Cyrus French." Ellery bowed insouciantly to the feeble old millionaire. "Mr. French is certainly connected with this establishment. Mr. French, further, could have committed the crime, if you judge physical possibility a factor. I demonstrated privately not long ago that, had Mr. French bribed the chauffeur of his host, Mr. Whitney, to take him into the City from Great Neck on Monday night and forget about it, he could have arrived at this apartment in sufficient time to slip through the freight-entrance and into the apartment. He was not seen again, except by the chauffeur, after he retired to his room in the Whitney house at nine o'clock Monday night complaining of a slight indisposition.
    "However--" Ellery smiled at the purpling face of French--"Mr. French has certainly been in this room within the past five weeks--every day, in fact, for years. And if this seems inconclusive, Mr. French, rest easy. For there is another reason, that thus far I have purposely neglected to mention, which makes your culpability a psychological impossibility."
    French relaxed, a vague smile lifting the corners of his tremulous old mouth. Marion squeezed his hand. "Now," said Ellery busily, "Mr. John Gray, donor of the entangled book-ends and close friend to the French family. You, Mr. Gray," he said gravely, directly addressing the spruce old director, "are eliminated on a number of counts. Although you are connected with the store in a very important capacity, and although your absence on Tuesday morning would have been seriously noticed, you too have been a frequent visitor to these rooms during the past five weeks; in fact, you attended a meeting here on Friday, I believe. And you had an alibi for Monday night which we checked up and found stronger than even you believe. For not only does the night-man at your hotel desk confirm your statement that you were talking with him at eleven-forty Monday night, making it impossible for you to have entered the store, but another person, unknown to you--a fellow-resident at the same apartment hotel--saw you enter your suite at eleven-forty-five.... Even without this we could not seriously have entertained a thought of your guilt, for we had no reason to believe that your friend the night-clerk is anything but an honest man. No more reason, in fact, than that Mr. Whitney's chauffeur, in the case of Mr. French, is dishonest. In Mr. French's case I merely mentioned the bribe as an eventuality, improbable but certainly within the realm of possibility."
    Gray sank back with a curious sigh, dug his small hands into the pockets of his coat. Ellery turned to red-faced, nervous Cornelius Zorn, who was fumbling with his watch-chain. "Mr. Zorn, your alibi was weak, and you could have, with perjured testimony on the part of Mrs. Zorn, committed the murder. But although you are a prominent official of the store, you too have been in this room at least once weekly for many months. And you, too, as well as Mr. French and Mr. Gray, are further absolved by this psychological inadmissibility of which I spoke before.
    "Mr. Marchbanks," continued Ellery, turning to the heavy-set, lowering brother of the dead woman, "your story about the automobile trip to Long Island and staying overnight at your house in Little Neck, unseen by any one who might vouch for your presence, also made it physically possible for you to have returned to the city in time to get into the store and commit the murder. But you needn't have been so irate yesterday--you are absolved too by this secret point of mine, besides being eliminated, as a regular attendant here at the directorial conferences, on the same account as Mr. Zorn.
    "And Mr. Trask--" Ellery's tone hardened slightly--"although you were drunk and rolling about the streets--" Trask's jaw dropped in vapid astonishment--"on Monday night and Tuesday morning, you, too, are set free by my yardstick, as well as by my as yet undivulged item."
    Ellery paused, looked contemplatively at the stony, dark features of Vincent Carmody. "Mr. Carmody. In many respects you deserve our apologies and genuine commiserations. You were entirely eliminated from our speculations by the fact that you are in no way connected with the store. Had you committed the murder, despite your story of the night trip to Connecticut, which was unsubstantiated and might have been false, there would have been no necessity for taking the body of Mrs. French downstairs to the window-room. Because you could have walked out of the store at nine o'clock unrestrained by any fear that your absence might be noticed. You did not belong in the store at all. You, too, incidentally, are eliminated further by my charming and mysterious little point.
    "And now," continued Ellery, turning to the disturbed Gallic features of Paul Lavery, "we come to you. Don't be afraid!" he smiled--"you didn't commit the crime! I was so certain that I did not even bother to ask you for a statement of your movements on Monday night. You have been in this apartment daily for weeks. Besides, you came here directly from France only a short time ago--it was quite beyond the area of probability to suspect you, therefore, of being embroiled in a gang of drug-peddlers operating with intense organization in this city and country. And you, too, cannot very well be our murderer, since you do not logically measure up to my last point, still withheld. And, if I were to be minutely psychiatric, I might add that a man of your refined and Continental intelligence would never have committed the regrettable mistakes which got our esteemed mysterioso into trouble. For I do believe that, out of all of us, you alone would have been man-of-the-world enough to know how a woman puts her hat into a hat-box, and how she stores buckled shoes in a shoe-bag....
    "We have now," continued Ellery pleasantly, but there was a feverish glitter in his eye, "narrowed the field of inquiry considerably. We might discuss, of course, Mr. MacKenzie, the general manager, who is an employee of the store. No, no! Mr. MacKenzie, don't rise to protest--we've eliminated you already. Because of this last point of ours, which is almost ready for exposition, and because you have been in this apartment within five weeks. But any of the hundreds of employees of the store who have never been in this apartment and whose movements Monday night are unaccounted for, might be the murderer. We'll come to that in a moment. At this time, ladies and gentlemen--" Ellery made a sharp sign to Patrolman Bush at the anteroom door, who immediately bobbed his head and went out, leaving the door open behind him--"at this time I wish to present to you a gentleman who until now has been more or less of an unknown quantity; no less a personage than--" there was a flurry at the outer door; it opened and Bush entered, followed by a detective who held a white-faced man, manacled, tightly by the elbow--"Mr. James Springer!"
    Ellery retreated slightly, a grim smile on his face. The detective escorted his prisoner to the front of the room, where two chairs were immediately set by one of the attendant policemen. The two men sat down, Springer holding his manacled hands limply in his lap, staring steadfastly at the floor. He was a middle-aged man with sharp features and grey hair; a livid bruise on his right cheek was mute evidence of a recent scuffle.
    Everybody in the room stared at him wordlessly. Old French was speechless with rage at the sight of the employee who had betrayed him. Weaver and Marion both laid restraining hands on his shaking arm. But there were no words in that audience--only hot eager glances, and in one case a frozen steady immutability....
    "Mr. Springer," said Ellery quietly--yet his voice exploded like a shell in the strained atmosphere of the room--"Mr. Springer has been kind enough to turn State's evidence. Mr. Springer, who ran away with the deluded thought that he might successfully evade the police, was caught the very day he attempted to escape because we were prepared for it. Mr. Springer's capture has been kept very quiet. Mr. Springer has cleared up many little items of procedure which we could not possibly have deduced.
    "For example, that the murderer is his chief in the drug ring, which even now is being scattered and pursued throughout the country. That the murderer is the right-hand man of the eloquently termed 'master mind' of the drug ring in this city. That Miss Bernice Carmody, who we discovered by investigation was probably a drug addict in an advanced stage, had come under the influence of the heroin habit, had met by devious ways the 'master mind,' had been introduced to the code-system, had become so dependent upon the drug that she willingly solicited new customers from her social circle, becoming in a way therefore almost a member of the ring. That Miss Carmody's pernicious addiction was unsuspected by her family until, as we know, her father, Mr. Carmody, began to suspect and told his former wife, Mrs. French, what he suspected; and Mrs. French, observing, saw that it was true. That Mrs. French, in her assertive way, directly accused her daughter of addiction and finally broke down the girl's weakened will until she confessed everything--including the name of the man connected with the French store who was supplying her directly with her own drugs. That Mrs. French, who we may suppose did not inform her husband of the true state of affairs because of his violent aversion to this form of vice, on Monday took away from Miss Carmody the newly replenished supply of drugs which she kept in the false bottom of her specially made lipstick. That Mrs. French further forced her daughter to make an appointment for her with this man, this employee in her husband's store, for Monday night at midnight, secretly, to plead with him for her daughter--to force him, by threats of disclosing to the police what she now knew about the drug organization, to loose his grip on her daughter and allow the girl to be cured secretly by her mother. That this appointment was made on Sunday through Miss Carmody. That this man immediately reported the alarming state of affairs to his chief, the ubiquitous 'master mind,' who in his customary cold-blooded fashion commanded him to kill Mrs. French, who by now, in turn, was in possession of too much vital information to be allowed to live; and also to do away with Miss Carmody, who had proved a weak cog in the machine and must also be disposed of. That this man, under threat of being killed himself, laid his plans and made his appointment. That he entered secretly through the freight-door, which as an employee of the store he knew was open at that exact half-hour each night. That he waited until midnight in a store lavatory and then made his way stealthily to the apartment on the sixth floor, knocked, and was admitted by Mrs. French, who had arrived a few minutes before. That she stood by the desk, as we deduced, and they argued; that he was not aware of the heroin-filled lipstick in her bag, or he would have taken it; that without hesitation he shot and killed Mrs. French, who bled profusely, the blood staining the book-end; that on bending over the desk he saw the five books, and realized that some one had been tampering with the code-system; that he saw the blue memorandum announcing the arrival next morning at nine of Mr. Weaver and Mr. French; that he realized he could not communicate with any one of the ring about this latest unforeseen development, because he was unable to get out before the next morning and could not telephone; that he therefore decided to hide the body in the exhibition-window, which would give him ample time next morning to slip away and warn his gang, for if the body were left in the apartment and discovered at nine, he would be unable for precautionary reasons to leave the building; and finally that he disposed of the body where we found it. Also that on his way back he stopped at the Book Department on the main floor and confirmed his suspicion that the sixth book was also missing. That he took Mrs. French's key back with him, having been unsuccessful in his attempt to get Bernice Carmody's that afternoon by the ruse of the telephone call. Finally, that he cleaned up the apartment, fixed the book-end, 'planted' the evidence against Miss Carmody, stayed overnight, shaved in the morning, broke the blade and took it away with him; and slipped out shortly after nine, emerging with the early shoppers only to reënter the building at once through the regular Employees' Entrance, in order to be checked in officially. And that he managed soon after to sneak off and warn his gang leader of the discovery of the book-system...."
    Ellery cleared his throat, went on relentlessly. "Mr. Springer was also kind enough to clear up the matter of Miss Carmody's abduction. With the action of Mrs. French on Sunday of taking away her store of the drug, the girl became desperate and got in touch with the murderer. This fitted in with his plans--he told her to come to a rendezvous in the lower part of the city for a new supply. She went on Monday afternoon and was promptly abducted, being taken by confederates to a Brooklyn hideaway and murdered. Her clothes were confiscated and brought back to our murderer, who had as yet committed no capital crime. These clothes the murderer brought with him to the apartment Monday night--the hat and shoes, tied up innocently in a small parcel, but wet a trifle with rain to make the deception perfect.
    "There is only one thing more to explain before proceeding to the much-wished-for dénouement.... And that is the reason for 'planting' the banque game, cigarets, shoes and hat to make it appear as if Bernice herself had been implicated in the crime. And this, too, was outlined--under protest--by Mr. Springer, who has been just a cog--an important cog, perhaps--in the vicious wheel....
    "The murderer left evidences of Miss Carmody's presence because she had necessarily vanished. Since she had been murdered and would be missing, there was a logical reason for connecting the two events--the disappearance of the girl and the murder of her mother. It would seem perhaps as if the girl had committed the crime. Since this was untrue, the murderer felt that it might confuse the police and put them off the real track. The murderer did not really hope that the deception would be successful for long--it was merely another red herring drawn across the trail, and anything which would lead the scent away from him in another direction he felt was desirable. And the actual 'framing' required little enough trouble and work. The cigarets he secured from Xanthos', Miss Carmody's tobacconist, since she had once told him where she secured her private supply. The banque he knew about from Miss Carmody, also. The rest was child's play...."
    They were sitting on the edge of the hard camp-chairs now, straining forward to catch every syllable. Occasionally they looked at each other in a puzzled manner, as if unable to see clearly to the end of the analysis. Ellery brought them back to attention with his next words.
    "Springer!" The name cracked out sharply. The prisoner started, paled, looked up furtively. His eyes fell at once to the carpet he had been studiously observing. "Springer, have I given your story faithfully--and completely?"
    The man's eyes fluttered in a sudden agony, rolled in their sockets, wildly seeking a face in the swaying crowd before him. When he spoke, it was in a husky monotone, barely audible to those avid ears.
    "Yes."
    "Very well, then!" exclaimed Ellery, leaning forward, his tone keenly triumphant. "I have still to expatiate upon that unspoken point which I termed mysterious a few moments ago....
    "You will recall that I spoke of the book-ends and the few grains of powder stuck in the glue between the onyx and the new felt. That powder was ordinary fingerprint powder.
    "From the moment that I was certain of the nature of the powder, the veils dissipated before my eyes and I sensed the truth. We thought at first, ladies and gentlemen," he continued, "that the use of fingerprint powder by the criminal indicated a very superior sort of murderer--a super-criminal, in fact. One who would use the implements of the police's own trade--it was a natural thought....
    "But"--and the word lashed into them with deadly emphasis--"there was another inference to be drawn--an inference which in a fell swoop eliminated all suspects but one...." His eyes flashed fire; the hoarseness disappeared from his voice. He leaned forward carefully, over the desk with its litter of clues, holding them with the magnetism of his personality. "All suspects--but one...." he repeated slowly.
    After a pregnant moment he said: "That one is the man who was employed by this store; who had not been in this room for at least five weeks; who attempted to put us off the track of himself by getting an accomplice without a record to give false information about the 'movements' of Bernice Carmody, who was already dead, in fact; who at the same time was clever enough to say, when he saw that we believed Miss Carmody to have been 'framed,' that he thought so, too, despite the fact that he himself had done the framing; who was present--the only suspect to be present, by the way--when the full story of the codified books and the culpability of Springer was told, and who took the very first opportunity of warning Springer to flee, realizing that, with Springer caught, he himself was in serious danger; who, most important of all, was the only personality connected with this investigation to whom the use of fingerprint powder was natural and thoroughly logical...."
    He stopped abruptly, eyes fixed with interest, expectancy, the eagerness of the chase, upon one corner of the room.
    "Watch him, Velie!" he cried suddenly, in a piercing voice.
    Before they could turn, before they could grasp the significance of the scene enacted before them so swiftly and vitally, there came the sounds of a short violent struggle, a bull-like bellow of rage, the hoarse panting of breaths, and finally one sharp stupendous deafening report....
    Ellery stood limply, wearily in his fixed position at the desk. He did not move while they rushed concertedly from all sides of the room to the quiet spot where the body of a man lay, already stiff in death, in a pool of blood.
    It was Inspector Queen who reached that contorted body first, by a lightning leap; who knelt quickly on the carpet, motioning aside the red-faced, heaving figure of Sergeant Velie; who turned the convulsed corpse of the suicide over; who muttered in words inaudible even to the nearest spectator:
    "No legal evidence--and the bluff worked!... Thank God for a son...."
    The face was the face of the head store detective, Thomas Crouther.
    THE END