Cancelled in red, p.16
Cancelled in Red, page 16
“I’m not up to riddles tonight,” Larry said. He came back from the sideboard with the two glasses. “What’s new?”
“First of all,” Bradley said, “I’ve placed Lon Nicholas under arrest for the murder of Max Adrian.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Bradley! I had a higher opinion of you than that,” Larry said, sharply. “Why, any half-wit—”
Bradley interrupted. “I didn’t say I thought he was guilty. As a matter of fact, I don’t. I checked his alibi for today pretty carefully. I’m sure he never left your apartment. Therefore, he couldn’t have killed Luckman. And Luckman and Adrian were killed by the same person. Ballistics men have checked the gun. There’s no possible doubt of it.”
“But why—”
“We’ve got a killer running around loose who seems quite prepared to strike again if we get warm,” said Bradley. “If I arrest some one, he may think we’re satisfied—giving up. As you said, your friend Nicholas is a perfect fall guy. He has a motive. He’d made one try at it. He had a gun, which is gone and which we can say is the one we found in Luckman’s rooms. He can’t remember! It’s perfect. It will satisfy the press. We’ll hold Nicholas for a few days, and meanwhile the murderer may think he’s out of danger.”
“I see. But it’s pretty tough on Lon.”
“He needs a little time to think things over,” said Bradley. “He acted like a lunatic, and he deserves a little trouble.”
“Now that you’ve got everybody properly lulled, what next?” Larry asked.
“I wish I knew,” said Bradley, unhappily. “This case is lousy with clues, Storm, none of ’em any good. We have a gun, the gun! We have a bottle with which some one was slugged, with no fingerprints on it! We have the safe in Adrian’s office, opened by the murderer—no fingerprints! We’ve got lots of nice little clues to help incriminate Nicholas and your girl friend, but I don’t want either of them. Too easy. We’ve got motives galore. Almost every one who ever dealt with Adrian has a motive. It’s lovely. I’ve always wanted a case with plenty of clues. Well, this is it; and it gives me a pain in the … a pain!”
Larry sat down. “I saw old Julius after I left you.” He told Bradley about his visit. “He keeps stressing the point that this is a ‘stamp murder.’ There is something in that, Bradley. He seems to think that if an expert went over Adrian’s stock it would bring results. For example, if we found stolen goods, it might point to some one we haven’t considered at all. Or, if we find stuff missing, it might help clinch the case against someone who now has the missing items in his possession. It would be quite a job, but it might be worth while.”
Bradley smiled. “It’s a good idea. As a matter of fact, the reason I came here tonight was to ask you if you’d act as expert for the police department. You’d be paid well, of course.”
Larry frowned. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “There are some angles I don’t like. For instance, if I should unearth something that would add to the case against Lon—”
“You can forget about him,” Bradley sighed. “He didn’t kill Luckman. He’s in the clear, except for publicity purposes at the moment.” He looked at Larry. “Do you expect to find something of that sort?”
“I already have,” said Larry. “That stamp I showed you last night—the British Guiana Number 16 with those letters pencilled on the back? Remember, I explained those letters represented a dealer’s code?”
Bradley nodded.
“Well, it just happens that was one of the stamps stolen from Lon. Those letters, ‘ORHH,’ were part of Lon’s code—the word ‘Dictograph.’ We’ll probably find more of Lou’s stock there, although they’re not all marked with his code. The one in the Fargoe collection wasn’t. But since he’s in the clear …” Larry shrugged.
“How about the Warren dame’s stamps?”
“We can put in a claim for them, if we find them,” said Larry. “Frankly, I’d like the job.”
“Then it’s yours,” said Bradley. “You can go over Adrian’s stuff and Luckman’s, too, if you think it’ll do any good. Incidentally, will you mind if I give it out to the press? I mean, tell them you’ve been engaged to expert for the police department? We have to have some news for them!”
“Why should I object?” Larry grinned. “Publicity is publicity; but be sure to spell my name correctly and give the right address, 64½ Nassau Street!”
Chapter 21
Larry, Ellen, and a somewhat wobbly Bones arrived at the Nassau Street office the next morning a few minutes past nine. In the dark corridor outside the office they found some one already waiting for them. It was Mr. Paul Gregory. He still wore a patch of adhesive tape on the back of his head, and he was holding his hat in his hands, twisting it round and round by the brim.
“I have to see you, Mr. Storm, at once!” he said.
Larry unlocked the office door and let the others in. In the light he saw that Gregory’s face was grey and that his eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep.
“I haven’t got very much time, Gregory,” Larry said, “but I’ll see you. Come inside.” At the door of his own office he turned to Ellen. “There’s a violet-ray lamp at Adrian’s; we won’t need to take ours. Just my glass, tongs, and the books.”
“You want the Gibbons catalogue as well as Scott’s?” Ellen asked.
“I think not. But you’d better bring Sanabria’s Air Post Catalogue.”
He joined Gregory in the inner office.
“I’m afraid I haven’t anything to report on the green Bear,” Larry told him. “This murder case has rather upset things. I did make a good many enquiries, but I haven’t had any luck to date.”
“I … I was afraid of that,” Gregory said. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if I haven’t got it by tomorrow. Mr. Hale is a hard man. He … he’ll probably have me jailed. But I … I want to thank you for not saying anything about it in front of him the other night.”
Larry eyed him curiously. “I’m damned if I know why I kept still,” he said. “Perhaps it was because I thought sooner or later you might come to me with the truth.”
Gregory groaned. “You’re going to find it out for yourself,” he said, “if this is so.” He took a folded newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Larry.
“Well!” said Larry. “I haven’t had a chance to see this yet.”
His eye ran down the left-hand column of the front page.
NICHOLAS ARRESTED IN STAMP MURDER
Had Threatened First Victim
No Alibi
Stamp Expert to Examine Victim’s Collections
Following the arrest last night of Lon Nicholas for the murder of Max Adrian, Nassau Street stamp broker, the police announced that they had engaged Mr. Lawrence Storm, of 64½ Nassau Street, to make an expert examination of the collections of Adrian and Ezra Luckman, the two stamp enthusiasts who were murdered within less than twenty-four hours of each other with the same weapon. It is believed that conclusive evidence against the killer may be obtained by an examination of the victims’ stamps.…
It went on with a rehash of the details of the two murders and of Lon’s arrest, which had been in the evening editions. Larry handed the paper back to Gregory.
“It’s true enough,” he said. “I’m about to start for Adrian’s now.”
Gregory looked at Larry with frightened eyes. “Then, there’s nothing for it but to tell you exactly what my situation is, Mr. Storm.”
“It might save everybody a lot of trouble.”
Gregory nodded. “I … I had hoped it would never be necessary. I … you see, I have my mother and my sister’s family dependent on me. I … I need this job with Mr. Hale. I … oh, I might as well come out with it, Storm. I have been robbing Mr. Hale.”
“Well, I’m damned!” said Larry. “And getting away with it?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Gregory, miserably. “I mean, my motives were not … not … It’s an old story, Mr. Storm. The market. I needed money, bought stocks on margin, and … and—”
“Blooey!” suggested Larry.
“I lost,” admitted Gregory. “That is, my stocks went down. I needed margin if I wasn’t to be wiped out.”
“So you stole a stamp.”
“Yes … yes, I took an item I thought Mr. Hale wouldn’t miss for a while. He was in Europe at the time. I thought I could replace it before he got back. I took it to Adrian to sell, knowing he wasn’t particular about the source of his purchases. That’s where I made my most terrible mistake.”
“Blackmail?” said Larry.
“Oh, God, it’s been awful, Mr. Storm! Adrian would insist on my getting him a certain stamp. Most of the time he’d give me one of inferior quality with which to replace it. Unless Mr. Hale examined things closely he wouldn’t notice. But finally Adrian didn’t bother with replacements. He began asking for stamps I knew Mr. Hale would miss. The green Bear was the last one!”
“I see.”
“Then fate played me an ironic trick, Mr. Storm. My investments prospered. I … I made a lot of money. I saw that if I could replace the stamps I’d stolen I’d get out of the hole I was in. But Adrian wouldn’t sell them back. He wanted to keep me in a spot. I was useful to him that way. I did manage to get some replacements elsewhere. But my back’s to the wall now, Mr. Storm. I knew you’d find some of those stamps, that they’d be listed in your report and Mr. Hale would find out.”
Larry shrugged. “I’m sorry for you, Gregory, but you deserve what’s coming to you. I don’t see what I can do about it.”
Gregory lifted his shaking hands and finally managed to extract an envelope from an inner pocket. “Mr. Storm,” he said, in a voice that was almost a whisper, “I have here the inferior duplicates of about a dozen of Mr. Hale’s stamps. Would it be worth ten thousand dollars to you to replace those stolen stamps with these and—”
Larry stood up so quickly that his chair fell over backwards with a crash. “Get out!” he ordered.
Gregory’s eyes blinked. “But, Storm, it doesn’t mean anything to you. You’ll only be helping to return property to Mr. Hale which is rightfully his. I—”
“Get out!” Larry repeated.
“Why should you want to ruin me?” Gregory cried. “I’ve never done anything to hurt you. I only want you to—”
Larry took a step toward Gregory. “You asked for this!” he said. He gripped Gregory by the shoulders, spun him around, and sent him stumbling out into the office beyond. He came up hard against Ellen’s desk. There he turned and pointed a shaking finger at Larry.
“I won’t forget this, Storm,” he said.
Larry started for him again, but Mr. Gregory wasn’t having any more. He scuttled hastily across the office and out the door.
Ellen, who had been collecting books from the safe, watched Mr. Gregory’s hurried exit, and then turned to Larry. “What big muscles you have, Grandmother,” she said.
* * *
When Larry and Ellen, armed with books and equipment, arrived at Adrian’s office about three quarters of an hour later, they found Bradley waiting for them. The inspector was sitting in the swivel chair in Adrian’s private office. Rube Snyder, his bull-necked assistant, was standing by one of the windows. Bradley gave them a genial wave of greeting.
“How did you like your press notices?” he asked. “Spell your name right and everything?”
“They were fine,” said Larry. “I could have made ten thousand bucks this morning as a result of them.” Briefly, he told Bradley about Gregory’s visit. While he was talking, Louderbach, glaring suspiciously at Larry from behind his thick-lensed spectacles, came into the room. He listened to Larry, and then interrupted before Bradley could comment.
“I still contend it’s madness to permit a stamp broker to examine this stock unwatched!” he said. “I think I have a legal right to safeguard my late employer’s interests by being present.”
“Your faith in me is touching,” Larry drawled.
“But he is going to be watched,” said Bradley, mildly. “I’m leaving my assistant here with Mr. Storm.”
Louderbach shook his head. “As if that would suffice! Do you think your man will be astute enough to detect any manipulation that might occur? I tell you, Inspector, I—”
“Go away, little man,” murmured Bradley.
“You needn’t think I shan’t protest about this procedure,” Louderbach said. “You’re endangering property that is part of a valuable estate by turning it over to this man Storm. Storm just wants a chance like this to plant evidence against Mr. Adrian. He wants to prove that Mr. Adrian robbed Miss Warren and you’re giving him the opportunity to falsify evidence. You have no right to—”
The inspector turned wearily to Snyder. “Rube!” he said.
Rube hunched his shoulders and took a step toward Louderbach. “Scram!” he said. It sounded like the roar of an angry bull. Mr. Louderbach scurried from the room.
“You see!” Bradley smiled. “Rube is invaluable, particularly for frightening babies in perambulators.”
“By the way, why are you leaving Rube here?” Larry asked.
“Not taking any chances,” said the inspector. “I don’t want you disturbed. It’s just possible some one may not like this idea.”
“You expect some one to break in here in broad daylight and take a pot shot at me?” Larry laughed.
“Luckman was killed in broad daylight,” said Bradley. He got up from the chair. “I’ve had Louderbach open the safes, the desk drawers, the closets—every place anything could be kept in here. All the stock books and loose stamps have been piled on the desk near the door of the Inspection Room. Incidentally, we’ve also been through Adrian’s apartment and I’ve had his safety-deposit box opened. There were no stamps in either place. Everything’s here. Adrian had a lot of ready cash salted away. Looks as though he was set to leave town in a hurry if the going got tough.”
“Trust Max to leave no loop holes. This may take several days, unless we’re lucky,” Larry told him.
“I’ve got plenty of time,” said Bradley. “If you want anything, let me know.”
* * *
It was a monumental task that faced Larry and Ellen. Larry settled himself in the big overstuffed chair in the Inspection Room. Ellen had drawn up a table and chair close by. The work was tedious and detailed. Larry began taking each stamp out of the first stock book, examining it, commenting on its condition and probable worth. Ellen wrote down his comments and checked with the lists which Louderbach had supplied.
Time passed rapidly. It was well after one o’clock when Rube came in from his post in the outer office.
“Ain’t you goin’ to knock off for lunch?” he asked, wistfully.
Larry glanced up at him. “You toddle off and feed your face, Rube. When you come back, you can bring us some sandwiches and coffee.”
“I can’t leave you. Orders,” Rube said.
“Oh, for God’s sake, go and eat,” said Larry. “You can lock the outer door. Nobody can break in. Only if there’s a fire, don’t forget to come back and let us out!”
Rube looked doubtful. “You think it’ll be all right?”
“I know it will,” said Larry. “Now, run along.”
They heard him plodding across the waiting room, and later the sound of the key turning in the front-door lock. Larry went back to work, He took stamp after stamp from its slot, held it up to the light, turned it over in his fingers. He talked in a voice that was beginning to grow hoarse, giving Ellen the details. Sometimes he made a casual remark about an item.
“Look at this one,” he said, holding up a pale-orange stamp. “The corner was torn off but they got it back on with some kind of sizing, so that it looks in perfect condition. It’s a honey of a job. Done by an artist—in Europe probably, and quite legitimately.”
Rube came back in about an hour. He had sandwiches and cartons of coffee. Larry and Ellen stopped long enough to eat and smoke a cigarette.
“It’s funny,” Ellen remarked, “that we haven’t found any of the Warren items. Unless Adrian has them hidden somewhere that Inspector Bradley didn’t check, we should have. We’ve been through a lot of U. S. stuff.”
“He may have put them with some of the cheap junk, where no one would be expected to look,” said Larry.
They went back to work, hour after hour. It grew dark and the lights were switched on. Once Larry came across another of Lon’s stamps with the code pencilled on the back. This was placed to one side. Once he found an item he was almost certain must have come from Jasper Hale’s collection. Finally he encountered the famous green Bear itself. He grinned, mirthlessly.
“What our friend Mr. Gregory wouldn’t give for this!”
It was about seven o’clock when Rube reappeared. “Ain’t you ever goin’ to eat?”
“Not for a while,” Larry told him. “Go get your supper, and bring us something in again. Bring a bottle of scotch with you.”
“No liquor,” said Ellen. “Not while you’re working. Your fingers will get clumsy.”
“For God’s sake, Ellen, I know what I want! Here’s some dough, Rube. Bring some scotch, Red Label.”
“No liquor!” said Ellen, placidly.
“Ellen, please stop managing! I …” He gave up.
“Rare hamburgers this time, Rube, and plenty of hot, black coffee,” said Ellen. “You can get plastered when you’ve finished, Larry—if you ever finish.”
“In two or three hours we’ll be through these inventoried ones,” said Larry. “Then tomorrow we can tackle the loose stock.” He sighed. “It is strange we haven’t found any of Lucia’s stuff. Thing’s a bust so far.”
Rube went away, and they heard his key turn in the lock. Larry bent over the books. There were lines of fatigue around his eyes, but he seemed to work with unabated energy.
After a while they heard the key in the lock once more. Larry glanced at his cigarette case, which stood open on the table beside him. It was empty.
“Hey, Rube!” he called out. “There are some cigarettes in my overcoat pocket. Bring ’em in, will you?”
Rube didn’t answer, but there was the sound of creaking shoe leather as footsteps slowly crossed the waiting room. Larry,
