Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Backward Mule

“Very much alive.”

She whirled to Clane. “What the devil were you trying to do?” she demanded.

Clane, at a loss for an answer, sat silent.

“No,” Inspector Malloy said calmly, “your husband didn’t take Edward Harold down the peninsula and put him in an auto court. You did that.”

She looked at the police inspector with the defiance of a trapped animal.

“But now,” Malloy said, “I’ve got to find out why you hid and why your husband went down the peninsula a good half to three-quarters of an hour in advance of your trip. Couldn’t have been because you stayed behind to kill George Gloster, could it?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“That package of groceries that we found down there in the room at the warehouse where Edward Harold had been concealed. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Certainly not.”

Malloy’s eyes were kindly but insistent. “Your grocer,” he said, “tells a different story.”

Color rushed to her face, then faded from it. Twice she tried to speak, but no words came out.

“So,” Inspector Malloy went on, “unless you make some satisfactory explanation, we’re going to have to hold you for investigation, which is just about the same in this instance as dumping a murder charge in your lap, Mrs. Taonon.”

She smiled at him. “Dump a murder charge in my lap,” she said, “and it will bounce right back and hit you in the face.”

Two officers brought in Ricardo Taonon. For a moment he stood in the doorway motionless with surprise, watchful, wary, his mind probing the situation. Evidently he had not been apprised of the fact that police were there interrogating his wife, or that Terry Clane, Chu Kee and Sou Ha were also there, held in a species of unofficial custody.

Taonon stood there in the doorway for the fractional part of a second and in that brief period of time adjusted himself to the situation as he saw it. He was slender, dark, high of cheekbone, with just a slight slant to his eyes. And there was about him the reaction so characteristic of the Japanese, of smiling broadly when he found himself cornered. While he had always claimed a Chinese-Italian ancestry, rumor had it that his mother had been a young Japanese girl who had met a suave Italian on the Street of the Wild Chicken in Shanghai.

Daphne Taonon gave her husband his conversational lead. “My dar ling!” she exclaimed and moved toward him, face tilted.

Taonon stepped forward to take her in his arms and the period during which they clung in a passionate embrace gave her an opportunity for one swiftly whispered word.

Then Daphne moved back from the embrace. “Darling,” she said, “do you know what they told me? They told me you were dead. And do you know what this man Clane said? He said that I had killed you for the insurance.”

For a brief moment there was a flicker of dark anger on Taonon’s face, and then he threw back his head and laughed, that nervous, staccato Japanese laughter. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Mr. Clane’s vaunted powers of concentration seem to have led him far afield.”

Malloy said, “I guess I’ll do the questioning. Come over here and sit down. Where have you been, Taonon?”

“I took a little trip.”

“Went down the peninsula, headed for Salinas, registered in an auto camp under an assumed name, and hid out for a while, didn’t you?”

“Frankly,” Taonon said, “I’m given to fits of nervous depression. When I have those, I want to get away from everyone. I want to be quiet. I want to be undisturbed. I don’t want to think any business and I don’t want to have anyone talk any business to me.”

“So you got a telephone call from George Gloster and suddenly decided you wanted to go on one of these trips of retirement. Is that right?”

“I fail to see the significance of connecting up the two events,” Taonon said with dignity. “You might as well say, ‘So you opened the bathroom door and suddenly decided you wanted to get away on one of these trips’.”

“But you did get a call from Gloster?”

Taonon hesitated.

“Come, come,” Malloy said. “You did get a call from Gloster. We know that.”

“All right,” Taonon said, “I got a call from Gloster.”

“And he told you he was at the warehouse?”

“If it’s any of your business, yes.”

“It’s plenty of my business,” Malloy said. “You went down to the warehouse to see him?”

“I did.”

“What time?”

“I don’t know. It was around ten-thirty, I guess, when I arrived.”

“And Gloster was there?”

“That’s right.”

“You talked with him?”

“Not very long.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t have much to say.”

“Why did Gloster want you to come down to the warehouse?”

“He had gone down on some business or other and found evidence that someone had been living there in the warehouse, someone who had evidently got in with a key. He seemed to think that this person might have been Edward Harold. A man had jumped out of the window when Gloster entered. Gloster thought it was Harold. Gloster tried to call Nevis, but Nevis wasn’t at his apartment. He called me. I answered, and came down to see what the trouble was.”

“Any words?”

“Frankly I was irritated that Gloster hadn’t called the police. I saw no reason for him to call Nevis and me.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I knew nothing about it and didn’t want to know anything about it. I demanded that he call the police. He didn’t want to do it until he had first found out whether this party, whoever he was, had been staying there in the warehouse with the consent of one of the partners.”

“So what did you do?”

“So I told him where I thought Nevis could be reached at a poker game.”

“And what happened?”

“I don’t know. I walked out. I gave him to understand that if he wasn’t going to call the police I didn’t want to have anything to do with the entire affair.

“He was calling Nevis as I went out of the door. I was angry and nervous. I drove around for a few minutes, stopped in at a bar for a brandy, and then decided I didn’t want to inflict myself on my wife; so I drove for a couple of hours to steady my nerves, found an auto camp that had a vacancy and went to bed.”

“I see,” Inspector Malloy said dryly. “You drove aimlessly, found an auto camp, registered under an assumed name, and were within five miles of the auto camp where Edward Harold had also registered under an assumed name.”

The surprise which showed on Taonon’s face could hardly have been simulated. “What?” he cried.

“Five miles farther down the road, Edward Harold was staying, also under an assumed name in an auto camp. He must have followed you!”

“Is this a joke? Or some weird third degree?”

“It’s neither,” Malloy said. “It’s the truth, and the woman who drove Harold down to that auto camp was your devoted wife. And in case you’re also interested, the person who established Harold there in the warehouse was also your devoted wife.”

“What are you talking about?” Taonon demanded.

“The grocer down in the market on the corner says that the groceries supplied to Harold in his hideout were purchased by your wife.”

Taonon turned to his wife.

“So,” he said.

And before anyone divined his purpose, he sent his fist lashing out to crash into the point of her jaw.

There was a moment of motionless surprise on the part of Inspector Malloy as he watched the woman’s figure crumple. Then his big hand caught a fistful of Taonon’s shirt, twisted it into a hold that gave him purchase, and shook the Eurasian as a big dog might shake some street cur.