Erle Gardner - Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Murderer’s Bride and Other Stories

“Sure thing,” Findlay agreed, getting his cigar burning evenly. “She worked for Hardwick, who was having an affair with a model. We followed him to the model’s apartment. They had a quarrel. Hardwick’s supposed to have jumped out of the window. She went to his office and took five thousand dollars out of the safe. The money’s in her purse.”

“So she was jealous?”

“Jealous and greedy. She got five grand out of the safe.”

“I was following instructions in everything,” Jane said.

Findlay grinned.

“What’s more,” she blazed, “Frank Hardwick wasn’t having any affair with that model. He was lured to her apartment. It was a trap and he walked right in.”

Findlay said, “The key we found in his vest pocket fitted the apartment door. He must have found it on the street and was returning it to the owner as an act of gallantry.”

Howard Kane glanced speculatively at the young woman. “She doesn’t look like a criminal.”

“Oh, thank you!” she said sarcastically.

Findlay’s glance was patronizing. “How many criminals have you seen, buddy?”

Doxey rolled a cigarette. His eyes narrowed against the smoke as he squatted down cowboy fashion on the backs of his high-heeled riding boots. “Ain’t no question but what she’s the one who jimmied the safe, is there?”

“The money’s in her purse,” Findlay said.

“Any accomplices?” Buck asked.

“No. It was a combination of jealousy and greed.” Findlay glanced inquiringly at the Sheriff.

“I’ll fly in and send that car out,” the Sheriff said.

“Mind if I fly in with yuh and ride back with the deputy, Sheriff?” Buck asked eagerly. “I’d like to see this country from the air once. There’s a paved road other side of that big mountain where the ranger has his station. I’d like to look down on it. Someday they’ll connect us up. Now it’s an hour’s ride by horse.”

“Sure,” the Sheriff agreed. “Glad to have you.”

“Just give me time enough to throw a saddle on a horse,” Doxey said. “Kane might want to ride out and look the ranch over. Yuh won’t mind, Sheriff?”

“Make it snappy,” the Sheriff said.

Buck Doxey went to the barn and after a few minutes returned leading a dilapidated-looking range pony, saddled and bridled. He casually dropped the reins in front of the ranch “office,” and called inside, “Ready any time you are, Sheriff.”

They started for the airplane. Buck stopped at the car to get a map from the glove compartment, then hurried to join the Sheriff. The propeller of the plane gave a half turn, stopped, gave another half turn, the motor sputtered, then roared into action. A moment later the plane became the focal point of a trailing dust cloud, then rose and swept over the squat buildings in a climbing turn and headed south.

Jane Marlow and Kane watched it through the window until it became but a speck.

Howard Kane said, “Now, Mr. Findlay, I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

“Sure, go right ahead.”

“You impressed the Sheriff very cleverly,” Kane said, “but I’d like you to explain—”

“Now that it’s too late,” Jane Marlow said indignantly.

Kane motioned her to silence. “Don’t you see, Miss Marlow, I had to get rid of the Sheriff. He represents the law, right or wrong. But if this man is an impostor I can protect you against him.”

Findlay’s hand moved with such rapidity that the big diamond made a streak of glittering light.

“Okay, wise guy,” he said. “Try protecting her against this.”

Kane rushed the gun.

Sheer surprise slowed Findlay’s reaction time. Kane’s fist flashed out in a swift arc, just before the gun roared.

The fat man moved with amazing speed. He rolled with the punch, spun completely around on his heel, and jumped back, the automatic held to his body.

“Get ’em up,” he said.

The cold animosity of his tone showed that this time there would be no hesitancy.

Slowly Kane’s hands came up.

“Turn around,” Findlay said. “Move over by the window. Press your face against the wall. Give me your right hand, Kane... Now the left hand.”

A smooth leather thong, which had been deftly slipknotted, was jerked tight, then knotted into a quick half hitch.

The girl, taking advantage of Findlay’s preoccupation, flung herself on him.

The bulk of Findlay’s big shoulders absorbed the onslaught without making him even shift the position of his feet. He jerked the leather thong into a last knot, turned, and struck the girl in the pit of the stomach.

She wobbled about for a moment on rubbery legs, then fell to the floor.

“Now, young lady,” Findlay said, “you’ve caused me one hell of a lot of trouble. I’ll just take the thing you’re carrying in your left shoe. I spotted it from the way you were limping.”

He jerked off the shoe, looked inside, seemed puzzled, then suddenly grabbed the girl’s stockinged foot.

She kicked and tried to scream, but most of the wind had been knocked out of her.

Findlay reached casual hands up to the top of her stocking, jerked it loose without bothering to unfasten the garters, pulled the adhesive tape from the bottom of the girl’s foot, ran out to the car, and jumped in.

“Well, what do you know!” he exclaimed. “The damn yokel took the keys with him... Come on, horse, I guess there’s a trail we can find.”

Moving swiftly, the fat man ran over to where the horse was standing on three legs, drowsing in the sunlight.

Findlay gathered up the reins, thrust one foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle, front and rear, and swung himself awkwardly into position.

Jane heard a shrill animal squeal of rage. The sleepy-Iooking horse, transformed into a bundle of dynamite, heaved himself into the air, ears laid back along his neck.

The fat man, grabbing the horn of the saddle, held on desperately.

“Well,” Kane asked, “are you going to untie me?”

She ran to him and tugged at the knot. The second his hands were free, Kane went into action.

Findlay, half out of the saddle, clung drunkenly to the pitching horse, then went into the air, turned half over, and came down with a jar that shook the earth.

Kane emerged from the cabin holding a rifle.

“All right, Findlay, it’s my turn now,” Kane said. “Don’t make a move for that gun.”

The shaken Findlay seemed to have trouble orienting himself. He turned dazedly toward the sound of the voice and clawed for his gun.

Kane, aiming the rifle carefully, shot Findlay’s gun out of his hand.

“Now, ma’am,” Kane said, “if you want to get that paper out of his pocket—”

Shortly before noon Jane Marlow decided to invade the sacred precincts of Buck Doxey’s thoroughly masculine kitchen to prepare lunch. Howard Kane showed his respect for Findlay’s resourcefulness by keeping him covered despite the man’s bound wrists.

“Buck is going to hate me for this,” she said. “Not that he doesn’t hate me enough already — and I don’t know why.”

“Buck’s soured on women,” Kane explained. “I tried to tip you off. He was engaged to a girl in Cheyenne. No one knows exactly what happened, but they split up. I think she’s as miserable as ho is, but neither one will make the first move. But for heaven’s sake don’t try to rearrange his kitchen according to ideas of feminine efficiency. Just open a can of something and make coffee.”

Findlay said, “I don’t suppose there’s any use trying to make a deal with you two.”

Kane scornfully sighted along the gun by way of answer.

Jane, opening drawers in the kitchen, trying to locate the utensils, inadvertently stumbled on Buck Doxey’s private heartache — a drawer containing letters, and the photograph of a girl. The photograph had been torn into several pieces and then laboriously pasted together. The front of the picture was inscribed, “To Buck with all my heart, Pearl.”