Rex Stout - Double for Death

“Forget it,” said Derwin brusquely. He had opened the flap of the second case, but without taking anything from it he leaned back and met Fox’s eyes. “I didn’t pretend that I had any proof that you knew about that gun or had anything to do with it. If you did have, we’ll find it out before we’re through and I’m warning you now that if it leaves you open to any charge it will be made and prosecuted. So much for that. We’ll go on to a matter in which I do have proof.”

“That’s different. I do promise not to deny anything you can prove.”

“Thank you. You know, of course, that guns have a number stamped on them, and that all sales are recorded and can be traced.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Of course. What would you say if I told you that the gun that killed Thorpe in this room today was sold to you on October 11th, 1936, by B. L. Holmes and Company of 416 Madison Avenue, New York City?”

“I wouldn’t say anything. I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Well.” The cat had its paw on the robin. Derwin took something from the second case and extended it in his hand. “Is that your property?”

Fox took it. It was a Dowsey automatic.38, clean and new. On the metal binding of the grip “TF” was deeply engraved in block letters.

Fox nodded. “It’s mine. If you’re going to tell me that this is the gun that killed Thorpe—”

“I do tell you that.”

“Call that beautiful?” Brissenden sneered. “Call that perfectly magnificent?”

Fox was frowning at the pistol in his hand. He slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t. Colonel. I call it highly confusing and momentarily embarrassing.”

“Well?” Derwin snapped. “Are you out of stock on this one too?”

Fox looked at him. “Don’t kick me when I’m down, Mr. Derwin. Please. And please answer two questions for the record. Is this the pistol that was found here on the floor when Thorpe was killed?”

“It is.”

“Have you proven by test that this pistol fired the bullet that killed Thorpe?”

“We have.”

“All right. You’ve got me. Put a detention on me. Throw me in a dungeon. Do whatever seems appropriate, but don’t expect me to furnish one ray of light on how that pistol got here.”

Brissenden sprang up and roared, “By God, if you think you can get away with this one!”

Derwin inquired sarcastically, “Another pledge of secrecy, huh?”

“No, sir. I just don’t know anything about it.”

“Is that your pistol?”

“It is.”

“Did you have it when you came here today?”

“No. I wasn’t armed.”

“When did you see it last?”

“I don’t know — now wait a minute, give me a chance! This hurts me worse than it does you! I own six revolvers and nine pistols. Two or three of them are souvenirs, but most of them I bought. Three of them are Dowsey thirty-eights, like this. I keep all my guns in a drawer in my room at my home, except an old Vawter that I let Bill Trimble, the farmer at my place, have to pop at woodchucks. Dan Pavey, my vice-president, often goes armed, usually with a Dowsey. Yesterday I carried a Howell thirty-two and a little toy Sprague, but today I carried nothing. I didn’t even open that drawer this morning, and I have no idea what’s there and what isn’t.” Fox spread out his hands. “That’s all I can tell you.”

The district attorney looked at the colonel. Brissenden growled, “Go ahead,” and Derwin turned to Fox.

“Where’s Pavey?”

“At my home. At least I told him to go there when he reported to me here several hours ago—”

“Ah! He was here, was he?”

“Not at the time Thorpe was shot. Around eleven o’clock.”

“He didn’t come here with you?”

“No. I left home early this morning.”

“What time?”

“Twenty-two minutes past seven.”

“Where did you go?”

“Here.”

“Straight here?”

“No. I had an errand to do.”

“What was the errand?”

Fox shook his head. “I’m sorry. Private business.”

“Was it the job that Thorpe paid you for when you got here?”

“That’s out and you know it is. You’re asking me about my pistols and God knows you have a right to.”

“Thanks.” Derwin was sarcastic. “Will you tell me where you went on your errand?”

“No. No connection with the pistols. I didn’t have one with me.”

“Was any one with you on your errand?”

“Yes. Henry Jordan. He came along because we were coming here later.”

“Did Jordan have a pistol with him?”

“No— Wait a minute, let’s sew it up as we go along. I didn’t search Jordan, but it is my belief that he carried no gun. He couldn’t have had one of mine unless he sneaked into my room while I was absent or asleep and took one. I’d give big odds on it.”

“Have you given or lent a pistol to any one?”

“No. Never.”

“Who else could have sneaked into your room and got one?”

“Lots of people. Any of my guests. People who work for me—”

“What about those who were here today? Has any of them besides Jordan had an opportunity to do that?”

“Yes. Andrew Grant and his niece are staying at my house. Jeffrey Thorpe and Mrs. Pemberton were there a little while last evening, but not alone in that room and they couldn’t have been.”

“Has Kester been there? Or Luke Wheer?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Fox tightened his lips. “I’d like to say something. This surprise you’ve sprung on me is just sifting through, and I’m getting good and sore. I’m not in the practice of covering up for murderers, which you may believe or not according to your inclination, but even if it were a lifelong habit of mine I’d abandon it now. I hope you don’t get him, because I want to get him myself. Any one who takes one of my guns, one of my own Dowseys, and commits murder with it—” Fox tightened his lips again.

“That’s enough!” Brissenden snapped savagely. “Your goddam cocky insolence! So you’re indignant because one of your guns was used to commit a murder! Are you?” Exercising great control, he was barely shouting. “Good God, do you take us for a bunch of ninnies? Look here! Monday night, by your own admission before you had any communication from Kester, you told Derwin to buy Thorpe Control on the drop! You knew then it wasn’t Thorpe who had been killed, you knew he was alive! You deliberately let Wheer and Kester be taken in that boat, and yourself with them! You do an undercover job for Thorpe for which he pays you fifty thousand dollars and you refuse to tell what it was! We find the gun that killed Arnold here in Thorpe’s safe and though you have been in Thorpe’s confidence, either that or you’ve been blackmailing him, you claim you didn’t know it existed! And now we find that Thorpe was murdered with your pistol and you know nothing about that, and by God, all you can do is sit there with a smirk on your face telling us how sore you are! You ought to have your tongue pushed all the way down your throat and there are men here who can do it!”

Fox nodded at the glare. “I admit it, Colonel, it sounds terrible. But I don’t admit that I smirk—”

“Oh, you don’t?” Brissenden sprang up and advanced. “If you think smart gags are going to make—”

Fox was on his feet and they were chest to chest. The colonel’s fists were clenched. The owl nervously removed the horn-rimmed glasses. Two troopers moved forward uncertainly. The tense silence was broken when Derwin cleared his throat and said:

“That won’t do it, Colonel. It will complicate matters. He’s tough enough, I know that and so do you — Fox, I want to send a man to your house to take a look at the drawer where you keep your guns and to ask some questions.”