Эрл Гарднер - Something Like a Pelican

F. G. Gilbert, head of the Gilbert Furrier Company, regarded Lester Leith with cold, calculating eyes.

“So you see,” Leith explained affably, indicating the photographer who stood on his left, a big studio-type camera in a carrying case and a tripod over his shoulder, “I’ve brought my photographer to make a series of pictures, and” — indicating Winnie Gail, who wore her made-over, somewhat shabby clothes with an air of distinction — “I’ve brought my own customer. I will, of course, buy the silver fox cape at retail prices.”

Gilbert shook his head.

“Of course,” Lester Leith went on affably, “Miss Gail is an actress. Just between you and me, she expects to get considerable publicity out of this, and, as far as you’re concerned — well, having the Gilbert Furrier Company mentioned prominently in connection with news and magazine stories shouldn’t do you any harm.”

Gilbert frowned through his glasses. “You aren’t a newspaper reporter?”

“No.”

“A press agent?”

“Well, in a way. I have Miss Gail’s publicity at heart.”

Gilbert’s appraisal of Miss Gail spoke volumes. “I’m not certain this store desires that sort of publicity.”

Leith shrugged his shoulders. “As you wish,” he said. “Of course, there’s the purchase of a silver fox cape.”

Gilbert said, “Just a minute. I’ll have to confer with my advertising manager. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped into his private office and called police headquarters. “A man by the name of Lester Leith,” he said, “claims to be a feature writer. He’s here with an actress who wants to pitch another silver fox cape out of the window and, at the same time, have Miss Fanny Gillmeyer, who was the clerk who screamed for the police yesterday, do the same thing all over again today. Is there any objection to my kicking him downstairs?”

The desk sergeant said, “Hold the phone. I’ll put you in touch with Sergeant Ackley.”

A moment later Sergeant Ackley came on the wire, and Gilbert explained the matter in detail.

Ackley’s voice was eager. “Any objections? Listen, don’t let him change his mind. Stall him along for fifteen minutes. That’s all I want — fifteen minutes.”

“And it’s okay after that?” Gilbert asked dubiously.

“Is it okay!” Sergeant Ackley exclaimed. “You listen to me. If you let this opportunity slip through your fingers, I’ll... I’ll... I’ll close your joint up for handling stolen goods!”

Gilbert returned to the outer office. “Okay,” he said, “but if you want Miss Gillmeyer to wait on you personally, it’ll take a few minutes, because she’s busy with another customer. However, I suppose you’ll want to set up your cameras and do a little rehearsing?”

Lester Leith took charge of operations with that meticulous attention to detail which characterizes the highest-priced directors in the picture business.

“You see,” Leith explained, “yesterday the fox cape hit on the support of a sign and didn’t get to the sidewalk, but that was only because an element of chance entered into the situation. Today undoubtedly the cape will reach the sidewalk. Now, then, what will happen? Will someone pick it up and hurry away with it, or will the person who finds it be honest and return it? In any event, we want a whole series of action photographs.”

The photographer set up the big studio camera, placed a speed graphic on the floor where it would be within easy reach. He also placed another speed camera on a smaller tripod. “Now listen,” he said to Leith, “when the action stairs, I’ve got to work fast. Be sure people keep out of my way.”

Lester Leith nodded.

Gilbert looked at his watch, then motioned to the young woman who was standing nearby. “All right, Miss Gillmeyer,” he said, “come on over here. You can go ahead any time now,” he said to Lester Leith.

But nearly ten minutes elapsed before Leith indicated that he was ready.

Then abruptly he said, “All right, go ahead.”

Winnie Gail walked over to the window, hesitated a moment, then tossed out a silver fox cape. Fanny Gillmeyer thrust her head out of the window and screamed for police. Pedestrians on the street below stared up in frozen-faced curiosity. Across the street the office workers in the Rust Commercial Building paused in whatever they were doing to stare. The photographer jumped from one camera to the other, then snatched up the speed graphic, leaned out of the window, and started shooting a series of pictures...

Sergeant Ackley sat in conference with Captain Carmichael at police headquarters. A pile of photographs was on the desk.

“He doesn’t know you’ve got these pictures?” Carmichael asked.

Sergeant Ackley shook his head. “I put the screws on the photographer.”

Captain Carmichael picked up the photographs and studied them thoughtfully. He opened a drawer in his desk, took out a magnifying glass, and moved it over one of the pictures. “Interesting,” he said.

“You got something?” Sergeant Ackley inquired eagerly, walking around to peer over Captain Carmichael’s shoulder.

The police captain tapped a portion of the photograph. “Notice,” he said, “you can actually identify the people who arc at the windows of the Precision Instrument offices. You can even see what’s going on back in the offices themselves. There’s a woman standing in front of the vault door.”

“That’s our own plant,” Sergeant Ackley said. “Believe me, she’s on the job. As soon as she heard the alarm, she didn’t even look to see what it was. She just beat it for the safe and stood there keeping guard. That’s Ann Sherman, and they don’t slip anything over on her!”

Captain Carmichael rubbed his hand thoughtfully over the top of his head. “I wonder,” he said musingly, “if that spoiled things for Leith.”

“How do you mean?”

“He hadn’t counted on the woman who took Bernice Lamen’s place being from headquarters. Perhaps he was hoping the vault would be unguarded, just as it was for a few moments yesterday.”

“But the blueprints have already been swiped,” Sergeant Ackley said. “What good would it do to give somebody the opportunity to steal them again?”

Captain Carmichael pursed his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and blew thoughtfully. Slowly his eyebrows crept together in a portentous scowl. “Sergeant,” he said, “that’s exactly what he wanted, and Ann Sherman’s being on the job kept him from getting results. Hang it, we should have thought of that!

“Don’t you see? Whoever stole those blueprints hasn’t been able to get them out of the building. They are still there, hidden somewhere. The thief has memorized them enough to know the real secret of the device. Now he’d like to get them back into the vault.”

“I don’t see why.”

Captain Carmichael said patiently, “Because every inch of those offices was searched by the police immediately after Jason Bellview got in touch with you. We didn’t get to first base. Tell Jason Bellview to apologize to Bernice Lamen and get her back on the job, then give Lester Leith a free hand.”

“What do you mean by a free hand?”

“Exactly what I said. Have you ever seen the Chinese method of catching fish. Sergeant?”

The exasperated Sergeant Ackley said sarcastically, “That’s another thing I’ve overlooked in connection with the case, and I’ve completely overlooked inspecting the hairs on the head of the last Egyptian mummy through a microscope.”

Captain Carmichael flushed. “Don’t be so irritable,” he growled, “and so blamed ignorant. I was going to tell you that the oriental method of catching fish is to put a rope around the neck of the fish-eating bird, so he can’t swallow. The bird drops into the sea and grabs half a dozen fish. He can’t swallow ’em, so he comes back to the surface, and the wily Chinese has half a dozen nice live fish, caught without any effort on his part.”