Roy Carroll - Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 4, April, 1953

“Yes, sir. All evening from seven till they closed at one thirty.”

“Did you know the deceased Joseph Garcia?”

“To talk to, yes, sir. I used to run into him at Stoyle’s Tavern off and on. I didn’t know where he lived or what he did, or nothing like that, though.”

“I see. Was the deceased a customer at Stoyle’s that night?”

“Yes, sir. He come in several times during the evening. I guess he was bar cruising all up and down Sixth Street.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

The deputy coroner said, “Do you recognize any other person now present as a customer at Stoyle’s the night before last?”

Norman Paisley pointed at Robert Hummel. “Him. He come in about a quarter of eleven and left at eleven fifteen. I noticed him particular because he bought the house a couple of drinks.”

The assistant C.A. cut in. “Was Joseph Garcia present during this period?”

“Yes, sir. He even remarked about it. When Mr. Hummel bought a drink, Joe said to me, ‘That damn fool must be made of money. He just bought the house a drink at a place I was in up the street.’ ”

Marcus Prout asked, “Did you get the impression Garcia was following Hummel?”

“No, sir. Joe come in first, as a matter of fact, and Mr. Hummel come in right after him.”

The lawyer looked surprised. He started to ask another question, changed his mind and waved his hand dismissingly. The assistant C.A. stepped into the breach.

“Mr. Paisley, did you get the impression the deceased was particularly interested in Robert Hummel?”

“Not right at first. But when Hummel bought the second drink, he happened to be standing close to Joe at the bar, and when he opened his wallet to pay, Joe looked kind of startled. I was standing the other side of Joe, but even from there I could see there was a lot of bills in it. After that Joe couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Hummel.”

Marcus Prout spoke again. “When Hummel finally left the bar, did Garcia follow him?”

“Yes, sir. He went right out after him.”

The assistant C.A. said, “Did you get the impression Garcia left because Hummel did? That is, that the deceased was actually following Mr. Hummel? Or that he just happened to leave about the same time?”

“Why, I don’t know,” Paisley said. “I never thought about it at the time. I guess Joe must of followed him out figuring to roll him.”

Marcus Prout smiled at this answer and the assistant C.A. grunted. When both indicated they had no further questions, the witness was dismissed.

Shuffling the papers in front of him, the deputy coroner located the post mortem report, cleared his throat and said, “The autopsy shows death by suffocation due to a crushed larynx.”

Following this announcement, he rose from his bench, advanced to the edge of the platform and asked in a loud voice, “Are any relatives of the deceased present?”

When there was no reply to this routine question, he turned to the jury and signified they were to go out.

While the six man jury was out, I tried to figure what Nels Parker’s interest in the case could be. On the surface it was simply a case of a mugger being killed in self-defense by his intended victim, and the inquest was obviously a routine affair designed to clear the intended victim of any blame. The slant of the questions, not only of Robert Hummel’s lawyer, but those of the assistant circuit attorney and the deputy coroner as well, indicated no one expected or wanted any verdict other than justifiable homicide.

I had no time to question Nels about it though, for the jury was out only thirty seconds. When it filed back in, the foreman read the verdict I expected: justifiable homicide.

Ordinarily, beyond noting down his name, age and address for my news item, I would have paid no further attention to the man who had just been cleared of homicide, for he was not a particularly impressive person. Nels Parker’s unexplained interest in the case intrigued me though, and noting the sergeant continued to linger in the courtroom until Robert Hummel finished shaking hands with his lawyer and finally moved toward the door, I lingered beside him.

When Robert Hummel was erect, you were less conscious of his unusually broad shoulders and the muscle underlying his fat than you were when he was seated. He looked like a well fed businessman who had reached the age when he ought to start watching his blood pressure. He also looked like the last person in the world you would expect to resist a professional mugger so successfully and so violently that the mugger ended up dead.

As the man passed from the courtroom, Nels continued to watch his back through the open door until he reached the stairs at the end of the hall and started down. Then the sergeant gave his head a slight shake and moved toward the stairs himself.

Falling in beside him, I said, “Buy you a drink, Sergeant?”

His dull eyes flicked at me. “One beer maybe. I got to get back to Homicide.”

The nearest tavern to the Coroner’s Court Building was a half block west. I waited until we were standing at the bar with a pair of draft beers in front of us before I asked any questions.

Then I said, “A story hidden here somewhere, Sergeant?”

He shook his head, tapped his glass once on the bar to indicate luck and sipped at his beer. “No story, Sam.”

“Not even off the record?”

“Just a pipe dream I had, Sam. You couldn’t print it without risking a libel suit.”

“Then I won’t print it. But I got curiosity. Whose case was this Garcia’s? On Homicide, I mean.”

“Corporal Brady,” Nels said. “He wasn’t there because the thing was so routine, all they needed was the beat cop’s testimony. Probably I ought to have my head examined for wasting my time on a case I wasn’t even assigned to.”

When he lapsed into silence I asked, “What’s the story?”

He drank half his beer before he answered. Then he said, “I was just interested because this guy Hummel killed a guy once before.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Almost the same circumstances too,” the sergeant said. “A mugger down along Commercial Alley. Only that time the guy’s larynx wasn’t crushed. Hummel just choked him to death.”

“Judus Priest!” I said. “Was there an inquest?”

Nels nodded. “Routine. Happened about twelve years ago. There’s no doubt it was on the up and up. The mugger had a record as long as your arm and it was pretty well established Hummel never saw the guy before he was suddenly waylaid by him. Apparently the mugger had been loitering in a doorway for some time waiting for a likely victim to pass, for they turned up a witness placing him there a full hour before he tangled with Hummel. Picking Hummel was pure accident, and the mugger was just unlucky to jump a guy who looked soft, but turned out to have the strength of a gorilla.” The sergeant paused, then added reflectively, “There wasn’t any of this flashing a roll in dives then.”

His tone as he made the last statement struck me as odd. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

But the sergeant ignored my question. “Hummel didn’t carry a gun then either. Matter of fact, it was as a result of the incident that he applied for a permit. He didn’t have trouble getting one, because he’s an antique and rare coin buyer and carries large amounts of cash.”

“You’ve been doing some detailed checking on the man,” I remarked.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t add up.”

I eyed him narrowly for a moment, then signaled the bartender for two more beers. I said, “Now give me the pipe dream.”

“Pipe dream?” he asked.

“You mentioned your interest in the case was a kind of pipe dream. You think there’s some connection between the two cases?”