Robert Alter - 101 Mystery Stories

They took Angela in on suspicion of murder. They did not let Riggs speak to her. They told him not to leave town. He did not understand why they didn’t arrest him also. He sensed that he was being carefully watched.

Though he was emotionally exhausted that night, it took him a long time to get to sleep. A nightmare awakened him before dawn. In his dream a shining sword had been suspended high over him, in utter blackness. He did not know when it would drop. He recognized the similarity to the legend of Damocles. He lay sweating in the predawn silences until his frightened heart slowed its beat. It seemed then that it was the first time he had been able to think logically of the death of Hilber. He thought carefully and for a long time, and when he knew what he would do, he went quickly to sleep.

He walked into the captain’s office at two o’clock on Monday. It was raining heavily outside. The captain was in shirt sleeves. “Sit down,” the captain said. “You asked to see me. but I’ll tell you some things first. The girl is sticking to her story. I half believe her. Besides, that corpse was in the center of the room with the sword sticking straight up. I can’t see anybody throwing it and making it land that way, so we’re trying to uncover other angles.”

“Hilber had a good academic mind, but not what you’d call a practical mind.”

“Keep talking.”

“If he wanted to kill himself and make it look like murder, he would try to clear Angela by such clumsy business as the dirt tracked in, the silver on the floor, the disorder in the jade case. He’d never stop to think of the next logical step, that the police would accuse Angela of doing all that to mislead them.”

“You try to read a dead man’s mind and he can’t tell you if you’re wrong. You’ve got more than that, haven’t you?”

“This morning I talked to his lawyer and his doctor. Captain, and I went to the house and they wouldn’t let me in.”

“I know that.”

“He had very little money. His illness used up most of it. He had forty-five thousand in insurance, in two policies, one of ten and one for thirty-five thousand. There is a suicide clause in the larger policy.”

“So he heaved a sword up in the air and it came down and hit him in the back.”

“He was operated on two years ago. The operation was not completely successful. The malignancy returned and this time it was widespread. He had six months to two years, and in either case it would not have been pleasant.”

“So?”

“Did you ever hear of the Sword of Damocles?”

The captain frowned. “They hung it on a thread over some joker’s head when he wanted to be king, didn’t they? It would take a special kind of nerve. Some timing device. Candle maybe. Let’s go take a look. Riggs.”

They looked. The captain brought the sword along. They experimented. It would have had to drop from the top floor. The railing encircled three sides of the stairwell. Nothing was tied to the railing. Nothing had been fastened to the skylight. They searched for a long time. The captain thought of the possible use of rubber bands, so they would snap back into one of the bedrooms. They could find nothing. The captain rubbed his bald head. “No good, Riggs. The sword had to be dead in the middle. Nothing could have held it. The girl didn’t come upstairs. The house was searched after we got here. And who could have held the sword out that far — in the center of the room?”

“Let me look around some more, please.”

“Go ahead.”

Riggs finally wandered to the study. Dr. Hilber had spent most of his time there. He sat moodily in Hilber’s chair and went back over every aspect of the previous day to see if he could remember anything that would help.

They had come back from church. Angela had opened the front door with her key, mildly surprised to find it locked. They had walked back through to the kitchen. He remembered that Angela had wondered if her uncle would put in his usual appearance for Sunday morning coffee, then thought that he was probably immersed in reading one of the many scholarly books that were so much a part of his life. She had decided not to disturb him.

The memory of the morning gave him no clue. The Sword of Damocles had hung over the stairwell. And it had fallen. And the means of suspension was utterly gone, as though it had never been. As though it had vanished. He sat very still for a long moment and then got up quickly.

Angela was released at six. Riggs was asked to perform the experiment again for the city District Attorney and two members of his staff. He and the captain had found the proper material after experimenting with various kinds of thread, and had purchased a sufficient supply of rayon tire cord yam. Riggs took the sword to the top floor, knotted one end of the yam around the metal railing and cut off a piece long enough to reach to the opposite railing. To the middle of that piece he tied a length sufficient to reach to the floor far below. He then tied the sword to the middle of the strand, took the free end around and tied it to the opposite railing. The sword danced and shimmered in the air and grew still.

They all went back down to the main floor. Riggs lighted a match and touched it to the strand of yam hanging down. It caught at once and a knot of flame raced up the piece of yam with stunning speed. Soon the heavy sword fell and imbedded its point deeply into the hardwood of the hallway.

By the time they reached the top railing, all traces of the suspension method had disappeared. The heat generated had not been sufficient to leave any mark on the metal railings.

The District Attorney sighed. “It’s half crazy, but I guess I’ve got to buy it.”

The captain shook his head and said, “It’s the only thing possible. Nobody could have thrown that sword and made it land at that angle — or rather without an angle. And that stuff he used doesn’t leave a trace. Without Riggs figuring it out, though, I don’t know where we’d be.”

The District Attorney stared curiously at Riggs. “How did you figure it out?”

“He was a classical scholar and with this setup—” Riggs indicated the open space above them and the railings. “It almost had to be based on the legend of the Sword of Damocles. That and the second hole in the floor. Those were the clues. He tested the method while we were out. That’s why there were two holes in the floor. The Sword of Damocles gave him his idea. Modem technology gave him the method.”

And then he was free to go to Angela.

On my way in I looked into the back room. The boys were there. Alderman Higgings had a pile of blue chips in front of him and was trying to keep his greasy little mug from looking sap-happy.

Lieutenant Grange was there too. He was half tight. He had beer spots on the front of his blue uniform shirt. His hands shook when he picked up the stein.

The alderman looked up and said, “Hi, Jimmy. How’s tricks?”

I gave him a grin and went on upstairs. I pushed into the boss’s office without knocking.

He looked at me sort of queerly. “Everything go okay?”

“They’ll find him when the lake dries up,” I told him. “We won’t be around then.”

“You covered all the angles, Jimmy?”

“All what angles?” I asked him. “Nobody’s going to investigate. A guy won’t pay his protection and Annie Doesn’t Live Here Any More. Now the rest of them will lay it on the line.”

The boss took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his bald spot. You could see the guy was squeamish. That’s no way to handle things. It would be different, I figured, when I took over.

I eased down and lit a cigarette. “Listen,” I said. “This town is worth twice the take we’re getting. Who do we move in on next?”