Erle Gardner - The Case of the Empty Tin

Mason heard a quick intake of breath as though Gow Loong had been about to say something. Then the number one boy changed his mind. By the time Mason had raised his eyes, Gow Loong was standing absolutely motionless. Apparently he hadn’t even been listening to the conversation.

“Something you wanted to say, Gow Loong?” Karr asked.

“Maskee,” the Chinese number one boy said.

The girl looked questioningly at Karr. “Is that Chinese?” she asked innocently enough.

Karr’s frosty eyes twinkled into a half smile. “Near enough to Chinese,” he said. “The pigeon English of the treaty port. The greatest word of all, ‘maskee.’ It means never mind, no matter. And now run along, my dear. I think I’ll have some very important news for you soon, but let Mr. Mason check up on you and...”

The harsh sound of the door buzzer interrupted him. He looked quickly at Gow Loong. “See who it is,” he said. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

But as it turned out, Gow Loong had nothing to say on that score. They heard him descend the stairs, heard the door open, and then the crisp tones of an authoritative voice, and the feet of the two men on the stairs.

Lieutenant Tragg preceded the Chinese houseboy up the stairs. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said. “Good afternoon. Ah, Mason again. And a young woman. Hope I’m not intruding. Your houseboy said you were busy, Karr, but just as I put my duties ahead of my own personal convenience, I have to adopt that attitude elsewhere. I trust you’ll understand.” Tragg ceased speaking and looked inquiringly at Doris Wickford.

“Miss Wickford,” Mason introduced. “Lieutenant Tragg of the Homicide Squad.”

“Homicide!” Miss Wickford said with a little startled exclamation.

“That’s right,” Tragg explained. “You probably aren’t interested in murder cases, Miss Wickford, but if you’d been reading the papers, you’d know that a man and his housekeeper were...”

“But are you working on that?” she asked.

Tragg eyed her narrowly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice suddenly noncommittal. “They lived in the flat below here.”

“Lived below here?” she asked, her eyes widening, and seeming suddenly to take on a darker hue.

“In the flat right below here,” Tragg repeated. “Didn’t you know it?”

There was no flicker in her glance, no waver in her eyes. “No,” she said.

“Sorry,” Tragg said, “but I’ve got to ask a few questions. Let’s go back to the night of the murder, gentle-men. Now, Gow Loong where were you?”

“Down China city. I visit my cousin.”

“How many cousins?” Tragg asked.

There was just the bare suggestion of a flicker of triumph in Gow Loong’s eyes. “Twenty-one.”

It was Miss Wickford who broke the silence with a little laugh. “Twenty-one cousins!” she exclaimed.

Karr said to Lieutenant Tragg, “Chinese cousins are different from ours. In China they properly have only one hundred names. Everyone who has the same surname is supposed to be related. It’s a vague relationship. There’s nothing to compare with it in this country. That’s why a Chinaboy will say of another Chinese, ‘He allee same my cousin.’ ”

“I see,” Tragg said. “Most interesting. And your name is Loong?”

“That’s not really his family name,” Karr interposed again. “Gow Loong he calls himself. Literally translated, it means ‘nine dragons’ — Cantonese. So don’t try looking it up in the official Mandarin dictionaries. Cantonese is a different language. Sort of a Chinese nickname. Means he has the strength, wisdom, daring, and courage of nine dragons. Each one of them furnishes some attribute: Loyalty, courage, perspicacity, endurance, shrewdness in money matters, ability to study — let’s see. How many’s that? Seven. I’ve forgotten the other two. Virtue and filial respect, probably. No matter. It illustrates the point. Anyway, he’s got twenty-one witnesses. He wasn’t here. I know he wasn’t here. If you want to check up on him, that’s easy. Who else do you want?”

Tragg turned to Blaine.

Blaine said, “I believe I’ve explained that at the same time the murder was committed I was flying down from San Francisco with Mr. Wenston here. We left San Francisco at eleven o’clock. I had some friends come down to the plane to see me off.”

“Good thing you did too,” Wenston interposed. “Otherwise I couldn’t have prethented any alibi myself.”

Tragg suddenly whirled to Karr. “You,” he said.

Karr met his eyes with cold defiance. “I was here — alone.”

“That’s rather unusual, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“In your wheelchair?”

“No. In bed. I believe I’ve gone over all that with you before, Lieutenant.”

“You haven’t,” Tragg said meaningly. “Mason has.”

“What do you mean?” Karr asked.

Karr kept staring at the detective with the cold concentration of one who is completely the master of his own soul, and resents uninvited familiarities. “Do you have any fault to find with what Mr. Mason answered?” he asked.

“I may have,” Tragg said.

“Under those circumstances,” Karr announced with cold dignity, “I am afraid it will be necessary for me to ask Mr. Mason to speak for me again. I am not feeling well, Lieutenant, and this interview has wearied me.”

Tragg said affably, “Let’s not get off to a bad start, Mr. Karr. I’m trying to save you future trouble.”

“Thank you for your consideration. You don’t need to try to save me anything. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”

“Despite the fact that you are unable to walk?” Tragg asked.

“Despite the fact that I am unable to walk.”

“I don’t want to have any misunderstanding about that,” Tragg observed.

Karr said, “You don’t need to have any. I can’t walk.”

“You were here alone in this flat,” Tragg said. “So far as is known, you, the housekeeper, and Hocksley were the only three persons under this roof.”

“Hocksley!” Miss Wickford exclaimed.

Tragg turned to look at her. “Hocksley,” he said.

“Why...!”

“The name mean anything to you?” Tragg asked.

She smiled and shook her head somewhat dubiously.

Tragg kept his eyes boring into hers. “But,” he asked affably in the manner of one making small talk, “you’ve known a Hocksley somewhere, I take it, Miss Wickford?”

She said, “No.”

“The name has some association for you? Come now, let’s not beat around the bush.”

She said, “My father mentioned a Hocksley in one of his letters.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, perhaps twenty years.”

Karr laughed mirthlessly. “Hardly the same Hocksley,” he said.

Tragg didn’t shift his eyes. “You were a child at the time?”

“Yes.”

“How old?”

“Seven.”

“Where was your father?”

“China.”

“What did he say about Hocksley?”

She shifted her eyes to Karr as though looking for some signal. Tragg said insistently, “This is just between you and me, Miss Wickford. What did your father say about Hocksley?”

“My father was in a partnership in China. I believe Hocksley was one of the partners.”

Tragg thought that over for a few seconds, then asked abruptly, “When did you meet Mr. Mason?”

“About an hour and a half ago.”

“Karr?”

“About forty minutes.”

“Known anyone here longer than that?”

“I met Mr. Wenston before I met Mr. Mason.”

“How much before?”

“A few minutes before.”

“What are you doing here?”

Wenston interposed hastily, “She’s calling on a matter of business. It’s highly confidential. I don’t want anything thaid about it.”