Эрл Гарднер - The Amazing Adventures of Lester Leith

Dixie Dormley said indignantly: “I think it’s an outrage. You’ve struck this man when he was handcuffed. You won’t let him explain.”

“Shut up,” Ackley growled, “or I’ll take you too.”

Dixie Dormley fastened glistening, defiant eyes on Sergeant Ackley. “Try to keep me from going,” she said. “I’m going to be right there, and complain about your brutality.”

Sid Bentley sidled up to the plainclothes officer. “The name’s Bentley, Sid Bentley. If you wouldn’t mind giving me that card.”

The officer nodded, pulled a card from his pocket, and scribbled on it.

“What are you doing?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“Giving this man a courtesy card. He caught Lamont — stopped him when he was running away.”

Sergeant Ackley was in a particularly expansive mood. “Here,” he said, “I’ll give him one, too.”

Sid Bentley took the cards. He stared for a long, dubious moment at Lester Leith, then said: “Gentlemen, I thank you very much. It was a pleasure to help you. Good night.”

A police car sirened its way to the curb. Sergeant Ackley loaded his prisoners into the car, and they made a quick run to headquarters with Dixie Dormley, white-faced and determined, following in a taxicab.

Sergeant Ackley said to the desk sergeant: “Well, let’s get the boys from the press in here. I’ve solved the Navin murder, recovered the ruby, and caught a hijacker red-handed.”

Dixie Dormley said: “And he’s been guilty of unnecessary brutality.”

One of the reporters from the press room came sauntering in. “What you got, Sergeant?” he asked.

Sergeant Ackley said: “I’ve solved the Navin murder.”

“Hot dog,” the newspaperman said.

The desk sergeant said dubiously: “Sergeant, did you take a good look at this ruby?”

Sergeant Ackley said: “I don’t have to. I had the thing all doped out. I knew where it was, and how to get it. That ruby is worth a fortune. There’ll be a reward for that, and—”

“There won’t be any reward for this,” the desk sergeant said, “unless I’m making a big mistake. This is a nice piece of red glass. You see, I know something about gems, Sergeant. I was on the jewelry detail for—”

Sergeant Ackley’s jaw sagged. “You mean that isn’t a real ruby?”

Lester Leith said to the desk sergeant: “If you’ll permit me, I can explain. This was an imitation which I had made. It’s rather a good imitation — it cost me fifty dollars. I gave it to a young man who wanted to be a detective to keep for me. His pocket was picked. Naturally, he was very much chagrined. I wanted to get the property returned, so I discreetly offered a reward. The property was returned earlier this evening. What I say can be established by absolute proof.”

Sergeant Ackley’s eyes were riveted on the red stone. “You didn’t get this from Lamont?” he asked.

“Certainly not. Lamont will tell you that I didn’t.”

Lamont said: “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

“Then where’s the real ruby?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

Lamont took a deep breath. “I haven’t the least idea.”

“What were you running away for?”

“Probably because of the manner in which you tried to make your arrest,” Lester Leith interposed. “You didn’t tell him you were an officer. You simply yelled, ‘Get him,’ and your man started for him with—”

“No such thing!” Sergeant Ackley interrupted.

“That’s exactly what happened,” Dixie Dormley said indignantly.

The desk sergeant said to Lester Leith: “Why didn’t you tell him this was an imitation?”

Dixie Dormley said: “He tried to, and Sergeant Ackley slapped him across the mouth.”

Sergeant Ackley blinked his eyes rapidly, then said: “I didn’t do any such thing. I didn’t touch the man.”

Dixie Dormley said: “I thought you’d try to lie out of it. I have the names of a dozen witnesses who feel the same way I do about police brutality, and will join me in making a complaint.”

Ackley said savagely: “Give me the list of those witnesses.”

Dixie Dormley threw back her head and laughed in his face.

The sergeant said: “You know how the chief feels about that, Sergeant.”

Lester Leith said quietly: “I’d like to call up my valet. He can come down here and identify that imitation ruby. It’s one which he had made.”

The desk sergeant reached for the telephone, but Sergeant Ackley stopped him. “I happen to know there was an imitation ruby made,” he said, “if you’re sure this is imitation.”

The desk sergeant said: “There’s no doubt about it.”

Sergeant Ackley fitted a key to the handcuffs, unlocked them, said to Lester Leith: “You’re getting off lucky this time. I don’t know how you did it.”

Leith said, with dignity: “You simply went off halfcocked, Sergeant. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you’d given me a chance to explain, but you struck me when I tried to tell you that the gem you had was an imitation, that it was my property, that I have a bill of sale for it.”

The newspaper reporter scribbled gleefully. “Hot dog,” he said, and scurried away toward the press room. A moment later he was back with a camera and a flash bulb. “Let me get a picture of this,” he said. “Hold up that imitation gem.”

Sergeant Ackley shouted: “You can’t publish this!”

The flash of the bulb interrupted his protest.

Edward H. Beaver, the undercover man, was still up when Lester Leith latchkeyed the door of the apartment. “Hello, Scuttle,” he said. “Up rather late, aren’t you?”

“I was waiting for a phone call.”

Leith raised his eyebrows. “Rather late for a phone call, isn’t it, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir. Have you seen Sergeant Ackley tonight, sir?”

“Have I seen him!” Leith said, with a smile. “I’ll say I’ve seen him. You’ll read all about it in the papers tomorrow, Scuttle. Do you know what happened? The sergeant arrested me for recovering my own property.”

“Your own property, sir?”

“Yes, Scuttle. That imitation ruby. I was rather attached to it, and Vare felt so chagrined about having lost it that I thought it would be worth a small reward to get it back.”

“And you recovered it?”

“Oh, yes,” Leith said. “I got it earlier in the evening. Sergeant Ackley found it in my pocket and jumped to the conclusion it was the real ruby.”

“What did he do?” the spy asked.

Lester Leith grinned. “He covered himself with glory,” he said. “He put on quite a show for a crowd of interested spectators, and then committed the crowning indiscretion of inviting them to read about it in the paper tomorrow morning. They’ll read about it, all right. Poor Ackley!”

A slow smile twisted the spy’s features. “The sergeant didn’t give you anything for me, did he, sir?”

“For you, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why, no. Why the devil would you be getting things from Sergeant Ackley?”

“You see, sir, I happened to run into the sergeant a day or so ago, and he borrowed my watch. He was going to return it. He—”

The phone rang and the spy jumped toward it with alacrity. “I’ll answer it, sir,” he said.

He picked up the receiver, said: “Hello... Yes... Oh, he did—” and then listened for almost a minute.

A slow flush spread over the spy’s face. He said: “That wasn’t the way I understood it. That wasn’t the bet—” There was another interval during which the receiver made raucous, metallic sounds, then a bang at the other end of the line announced that the party had hung up.

The undercover man dropped the receiver back into place.

Lester Leith sighed. “Scuttle,” he said, “I don’t know what we’re going to do about Sergeant Ackley. He’s a frightful nuisance.”