Erle Gardner - The Monkey Murder

The burly undercover man’s fist clenched.

“The big thing I want to get even with him for,” he said, “is his calling me Scuttle. He Scuttles me this, and Scuttles me that. He says that I look like a pirate, and keeps asking me if perhaps some of my ancestors weren’t pirates.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Sergeant Ackley said, “the sky’s the limit. My eyes aren’t very good, and if you say he was resisting arrest and took a swing at you, I’ll be inclined to help you defend yourself.”

“I don’t want any help,” Beaver said. “All I want is three good punches.”

Sergeant Ackley turned to the other two officers. “Remember,” he said, “if Beaver swears this guy made a swing at him, we’re all backing Beaver’s play.”

Two heads nodded in unison.

“Come on,” Sergeant Ackley said, putting his star on the outside of his coat, and led the procession which marched grimly down the swaying aisle of the Pullman car where the porter, struggling with mattresses and green curtains as he made up the berths, looked up to stare with wide eyes.

“Do we knock?” Beaver asked, as they swayed down the aisle of Car D57.

“Don’t be silly,” Ackley commented. He twisted the knob of the stateroom door, slammed it open. The car porter watched them with wide-eyed wonder. A moment later he was joined by the porter from the car ahead.

Evelyn Rae was sprawled comfortably on the seat, her left elbow propped against the table, a pillow behind her head, her right instep fitted against the curved arm of the upholstering. She looked up with casual inquiry, then suddenly lowered her knees, pulled down her skirt, and said:

“Say, what’s the idea?”

“Where’s Leith?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“Why, I don’t know. Who are you? Why, hello, Beaver. What is this?”

Sergeant Ackley said, “Come on! Where’s Leith?”

“I haven’t seen him for a while. I was reading and—”

“How did that suitcase get here?”

“A redcap brought it in. He said Leith told him to put it aboard.”

“Where was that?”

“This last stop.”

“What did Leith say after we pulled out of that last stop?”

“Why, I haven’t seen him since the suitcase was delivered here.”

Sergeant Ackley’s laugh was scornful and sarcastic. “Try and get me to fall for that one. You must think I’m crazy. Beaver, open the door to the lavatory. Jim, dust out and cover the train.”

The undercover man jerked open the lavatory door.

“No one here,” he said.

The other detective dashed out into the car.

The car porter pushed his head in the door. “What yo’-all want? The gen’man what—”

Sergeant Ackley held up the lapel of his coat to emphasize the significance of his badge. “Get the hell out of here,” he said.

The porter backed out, his jaw and lips moving, but no words coming.

Sergeant Ackley slammed the door shut.

“Let’s take a look in that suitcase,” he said.

The officers unstrapped the suitcase, opened it. Sergeant Ackley pawed through the clothes.

“O.K.,” he said to the girl, “where are those two gems?”

“What two gems?”

“Don’t stall. The two gems that were in there.”

“You’re nuts!” she said.

“I’ll show you whether I’m nuts or not,” Sergeant Ackley said. “You’re an accomplice in this thing right now. You give me any more of your lip, and I’ll arrest you as an accessory after the fact.”

“After what fact?” she asked.

Sergeant Ackley’s gesture was one of irritation.

“Mr. Leith thought he’d left you in the city,” she said to Beaver.

“What Lester Leith thinks doesn’t count right now,” Sergeant Ackley observed. “I want those two emeralds.”

“Those two emeralds?”

“Yes.”

Before she could answer, the door of the drawing room burst open, and the detective who had been sent to find Leith said:

“ Say, sergeant, here’s a funny story from the porter of the second car back. That’s the one that Leith hopped when the train pulled out. I grabbed the one behind. I went back and asked the porter what happened to the man who got aboard and—”

“Never mind all that palaver,” Sergeant Ackley interrupted irritably. “Go ahead and tell me the answer. What happened?”

“He said that Lester Leith climbed aboard all right, and then jumped right back off again.”

Sergeant Ackley’s face darkened. “So you let him give you the slip, did you?”

The detective said indignantly: “Let him give me nothing! He got aboard the train all right, and I saw the vestibule door shut. The train damn near jerked my arms off when I got aboard the next car back. I hurried up to follow Leith to his stateroom here, but before I could get through the car, he’d had plenty of time to reach this stateroom. Remember, he was one car ahead of me. No one else could have done the thing any differently. How was I to know he was going to jump off?”

Sergeant Ackley whirled to Evelyn Rae. “I’m going to get those two stones,” he said, “if I have to search every stitch you have on. So you’d better come through with them.”

“I tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

Beaver said significantly: “Remember that piece of glass in the chewing gum, sergeant. I’ll bet they were just trying to find out whether a wad of chewing gum would hold—”

“Now,” Sergeant Ackley said, “you’re talking sense.” He grabbed the table, swung it up on its hinges, looked at the assortment of gum gobs which studded the under side of the table. Suddenly a flash of green light caught his eye. With a whoop of triumph, he grabbed at the blob of gum. It stuck to his fingers, but pulled away enough to show the surface of a huge green object which was embedded in the sticky depths. “Hooray,” Sergeant Ackley cried.

“Caught at last. Snap the handcuffs on that woman.”

There were lights in the building occupied by the Explorers’ Club. From time to time could be heard bursts of laughter or spatterings of applause. The curb around the building was crowded with parked automobiles. Here and there chauffeur-driven cars showed a driver huddled over the steering wheel dozing or, perhaps, listening to the radio.

Lester Leith, swinging along the sidewalk, spotted the license number of Peter B. Mainwaring’s automobile without difficulty. The chauffeur of the car was slumped over the wheel.

Leith walked around the car, and tapped him on the shoulder.

The man snapped to quick attention as he felt the touch of Lester Leith’s finger. His right hand started toward his left coat lapel.

Lester Leith said easily, “You’re Mainwaring’s chauffeur?”

The man’s thin, hatchet face was without expression as he said, from one side of his mouth, “What’s it to you?” His right hand was held hovering over the left coat lapel.

“I have the cane that Mainwaring ordered,” Lester Leith said. “He told me to deliver it to you, and to show you the secret compartment.”

“Secret compartment?” Deekin said. “Say, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leith said: “Well, I don’t give a damn whether you do or not. You don’t need to be so short about it. I’m a working man, same as you are, and a damn good cane maker. I’m carrying out instructions, that’s all. Now, here’s the cane for Mainwaring. You tell him when he wants to get at the hidden receptacle, all he has to do is unscrew the top.”

“What does he want a receptacle in a cane for?” Deekin asked, his voice more friendly.

Lester Leith smirked and said: “Probably to carry liver pills in. How the hell do I know? I have about a dozen clients who give me orders like this, and I’m paid enough to keep my mouth shut. Do you understand?”