Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Smoking Chimney

“But you’re certain he was home?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes. The man who was inside at one time approached the front door. Sonders could hear him plainly. He thought perhaps the man intended to shoot. He was rather frightened. I know exactly how he felt. I had a similar experience. I heard someone moving around on the inside of the house, heard cautious steps coming toward the back door where I was standing and knocking. Then there was a minute or two of tense silence. I could feel the man standing there on the other side of the door... I tell you it was a creepy feeling. Then the man walked away. I heard the boards creak, and the sound of his steps across the floor. I called out to him: ‘I am from the newspaper. I simply want to ask you a few questions.’ “

“Get any answer?” the sheriff asked.

“Not a word.”

“Hear him moving around any after that?”

“Once or twice in the front part of the house. That was when he was debating whether to open the door for Sonders, I guess. I suppose the man merely wanted to get out without being questioned or photographed. That’s the logical explanation, of course, but I had the feeling he was standing there with a gun, debating whether to shoot me through the door. The strange thing is that Sonders said he felt exactly the same way when the man walked toward the front door... Of course, if we hadn’t covered both exits, he’d have simply gone out the back door when we started pounding on the front door... You can imagine how he must have felt — if he was Pressman. He undoubtedly knew me by sight. When he saw Sonders and me drive up, he realized his deception wasn’t going to work, that he’d be held up to ridicule and censure as a cheap trickster. It wouldn’t help his case in the courts any. I almost believe he’d have killed us if he felt he could have got away with it.”

Duryea said: “A man wouldn’t kill you just to avoid publicity.”

“I know. It isn’t logical — but you should have heard the ominous steps, the slow creaking of the boards... It gave me the creeps.”

“Then what?” Duryea asked.

“After several minutes — I don’t know just how many minutes — I decided I’d better have a talk with Sonders. I saw we weren’t getting anywhere. Perhaps I was a little frightened. I walked back around the house. Sonders was still pounding on the front door. We tried the front door then, and it was locked. He wanted to know if I’d tried the back door, and I told him no, I’d simply pounded on it. He suggested that I go back and try it. I didn’t have nerve enough. I kept remembering the ominous way that man approached the back door and then paused.”

“Could you tell how far he was from the back door?” the sheriff asked.

“I’d say not over six or seven feet. You could hear him walking toward the door — just as though he intended to open it, or as though he was debating whether to start shooting. To tell you the truth, Sheriff, I was badly frightened. It was just a little more grim realism than I’d bargained for.”

The sheriff looked around the little knot of silent, interested spectators, spotted a bronzed, taciturn individual with steady blue eyes, a grimly determined mouth. “You’re Sonders, aren’t you?” he asked.

“That’s right, Sheriff.”

“Thought I recognized you. You were on a jury once.”

“That’s right.”

“You don’t know Pressman?”

“I’ve never met him. He’s only a name to me. I’ve never been able to meet him. I’ve tried repeatedly. He won’t see me.”

“You’ve never met this man Reedley?”

“No.”

“Where did you get the tip that Reedley was Pressman?” Sonders’ lips clamped shut even more definitely. He shook his head silently.

“Come on,” the sheriff said. “We should know that, Sonders.”

“I’m sorry,” Sonders said in a tone of complete finality. “It’s information that I can’t give you.”

“Why?”

Sonders started to say something, and once more shook his head. “I can’t even tell you that.”

“You came out here with True?”

“That’s right.”

“And you took the front door and True the back?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re certain someone was in the house?”

“Quite certain. In the first place, I saw the shades being lowered as we drove into the yard. The last shade came down just as True was driving his automobile into a parking place under the trees here. I took the front door, True the back. We pounded on the doors and raised all the commotion we could. You could hear a man moving around in there just like a caged animal... And I’d have bet all the tea in China that man had a gun and was debating whether or not to use it.”

“Why,” the sheriff asked, “should he have wanted to shoot? Suppose he was Pressman, and you were calling on him. He knew the jig was up, that his real identity was going to be revealed, and his little scheme wasn’t going to do him any good... But still that’s no reason why he should shoot.”

“I don’t know,” Sonders said. “You can’t prove it, by me, unless a theory I have accounts for it. All I know is that from the way that man inside the house was walking around, the way he came and stood in front of the door and paused, not close enough to the door to have reached the knob, yet close enough so that— Well, I just know darn well he was standing in there holding a gun pointing at the door, and trying to get up his nerve to pull the trigger. That’s just the way I felt.”

“And it’s just the way I felt,” True said. “There was something sinister about the way that man acted. I had counted on some blustering, some hostility, but not anything quite like that.”

“What’s this theory of yours?” the sheriff asked Sonders.

Sonders said: “We know Pressman was a crook, a legal sharper, but that was his moral calibre just the same. Now the man may have resorted to some trickery in connection with this oil business we know nothing about — and when he saw us come tearing up to the house, thought we’d discovered his secret... The old story of his conscience betraying him.”

“Where’s this editorial?” the sheriff asked.

True grinned. “We got so scared we—”

“No, True,” Sonders interrupted. “I found it this morning in my inside coat pocket. I’d have sworn I never put it there. Guess I was plenty excited — thought we’d lost it for a while. True had some stuff written in there... Well, you can see for yourself.”

The sheriff took the folded paper, a typical long narrow sheet of galley proof. “You had this in your hand when you came up to the house here, yesterday? I mean, could he have seen it looking out the window?”

“That’s right. I was holding it in my right hand. My idea was to push it right out at him, first thing, and then let True get his picture — as early in the game as we could... I didn’t know how long the interview would last.”

The sheriff glanced at the paper.

“If you don’t mind,” True said, “I’d like that back. It’s got some changes we worked out... Oh, well, I won’t use the editorial now, anyway. It doesn’t make any difference. Keep it.”

“Anything to indicate the time the shooting took place?” the sheriff asked Gentry, turning to the constable.

“Sometime after dark,” Gentry replied. “The oil lamp is burning and the shades are pulled all the way up — just the way things are now. I didn’t touch anything.”

“What time did you get here?” Duryea asked.

“Right around seven o’clock when we got here.”

“What did you find?”

“Things are exactly the way I found them. We haven’t touched a thing, except that I did use a pass-key to get the front door open — which was no trick at all. It’s just a simple mortise lock of the cheapest type.”