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

“Yes, sir. How many, sir?”

“Oh, quite a good supply. Say around fifty dollars’ worth. And find out if there was any dipping chocolate that was warm while the bandit was cornered in the place.

“You see, Scuttle, the problem fascinates me. There are so many places in a candy store or factory where gems might be hidden. The proprietor may get his chocolate shipped to him in large thick bars. What would prevent a criminal from melting a hole in a bar of chocolate, dropping in some stones, and then sealing up the chocolate with a little dipping chocolate?

“Of course, Scuttle, I’m only interested in a theoretical solution, you understand. I don’t want to actually recover the gems. I only want to see if they could have been hidden that way.

“Now, Scuttle, I don’t want any trouble about this. Telephone Sergeant Ackley and ask him if there is any possible objection to my buying candy from the store in which the bandit was killed.”

The valet’s mouth sagged. “Now, sir?”

“Oh, no great hurry, Scuttle. You might even drop by and ask the sergeant for his opinion. See if you can get him to scribble a note stating there’s no objection on the part of the police department to my purchasing candy.

“Better run along, and buy the chocolates, Scuttle — and also get me an electric soldering iron. Oh, yes, Scuttle, and you’d better get some of those hard, red cinnamon drops too.”

The valet-spy oozed his huge bulk from the room, clapped a hat on his head and opened the outer door.

“Right away, sir. I shall carry out your orders to the letter, sir.”

Sergeant Arthur Ackley scraped a spade-like thumbnail over the coarse stubble along the angle of his jaw. Across the table sat Edward H. Beaver, undercover man assigned to Lester Leith. The undercover man had just finished his report and Sergeant Ackley was considering it, his crafty eyes filmed with thought.

“Beaver,” he said at length, “I’m going to let you in on something. We’ve recovered four of the rubies.”

“Found them?” asked the undercover man.

Sergeant Ackley shook his head. He took a box of perfectos from the drawer of his desk and selected one, without offering the box to the man opposite.

“No, we didn’t find them. We recovered them. Two were given to a girl and pawned. One was handed to a man who was mooching, and the other was dropped in the cup of a blind beggar.”

Beaver’s lips parted in astonishment.

“Fact. Girl named Molly Manser was standing looking at a window. She says a heavy-set man with a hat pulled low over his forehead and a patch over his left eye sidled up to her and asked her if she’d like some of the clothes on display in the window.

“She says she tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and pushed a couple of the rubies into her hand. She claims she broke away and ran, but the man didn’t try to follow her.”

Beaver twisted his lips. “Boloney,” he said. “What did she do with ’em?”

“Took ’em to Gildersmith to hock.”

“He knew they were hot?”

“Sure. He spotted ’em and held her until one of our men got there. Mills identified ’em instantly; says he can’t be fooled on those rubies.”

Beaver sighed. “Then she was one of the gang and they’ve managed to find out where the gems were and take ’em.”

“Wait a minute,” said Sergeant Ackley. “You’re behind the times. We figured that, of course, and put the girl in the cooler. Half an hour later another pawnbroker telephoned in he had a ruby he wanted us to look at. We went out on the run. It was the same size, same color, same kind of cutting.

“This time a down-and-outer had brought it in. He was a panhandler, mooching the price of a drink. He picked on a heavy-set guy with a hat pulled well down and a patch over the right eye. The guy told him to take the stone, hock it, and keep whatever he got out of it.

“Then, while we were questioning this guy, the telephone gave us another lead — a blind beggar who had one of the stones dropped into his cup. Naturally, he couldn’t see who did it, but he heard the sound of the man’s steps on the sidewalk. He said it was a heavy-set man.

“Now that sort of puts a. different slant on this candy idea, eh?”

The undercover man nodded slowly.

“Maybe I’d better switch him to some other crime.”

Sergeant Ackley shook his head emphatically.

“Somehow or other, those four rubies slipped through. We want to find out where and when. This guy, Leith, never has missed a bet yet. If we can use him as a hound to smell out the trail we can kill two birds with one stone.

“Besides, Mills is raising hell. He’s related to one of the political-big shots, and he’s riding us up one side and down the other. That’s just like his type. They smear publicity all over the papers that they’re carrying a million dollars around with them, and then squawk when they get rolled.”

Beaver teetered back and forth in the scarred chair. His brow was corrugated in thought.

“Sergeant,” he suddenly whispered.

Sergeant Ackley scowled at him.

“Well?”

“Sergeant,” said Beaver, "I have it. I tell you I have it — a scheme to frame Lester Leith! We’ll get the candy, just like he said. You’ve got four of the rubies that were stolen. Those rubies can’t be told from any of the other stolen rubies. We’ll plant those rubies in the candy and hand ’em to Leith.

“After a while Leith will find those rubies. He’ll salt ’em. We’ll be watching him all the time and we’ll nab him for possession of stolen property, for being an accessory after the fact, and” — Beaver clenched and unclenched the hamlike fist of his right hand — “for resisting an officer!”

Sergeant Ackley grinned. “Make it for resisting two officers, Beaver,” and he doubled up his own right fist.

“It’ll be a cinch,” said Beaver. “He’s got off wrong on this case and thinks the rubies are hidden in the candy. But we don’t care how right or how wrong he is, just so we can get him with stolen property.”

Sergeant Ackley shot his open hand across the table.

“Shake, Beaver! By George, I’ll see that you get a promotion for this! It’s an idea that’ll stick Mr. Lester Leith inside, lookin’ out.” Beaver shook hands.

“Of course, it’ll be framing him,” he said.

Sergeant Ackley snorted. “Who cares, just so we get him!” Beaver nodded solemnly.

“All right. I’ll get the candy and come back here. We’ll plant the rubies. You’d better write me a note I can take to him so he’ll feel I’ve got results. Say in the note he can buy anything he pleases so far as the department is concerned.”

Sergeant Ackley squinted one eye. “It’s sort of a fool letter to write.”

“I know, but it will make Leith think I’m on the level with him.”

Ackley nodded. “Go on out and pick up the candy. Bring it back here and we’ll stick in the rubies.”

It took Beaver an hour to get the candy and the soldering iron and return to headquarters. Sergeant Ackley was pacing the floor in the manner of a caged lion.

“Took you long enough, Beaver,” he grunted. “Let’s get busy.”

“The candy in the boxes?” asked Beaver.

“Yeah. Put the rubies in the top row, one in each of four boxes. Mark the boxes and mark the candies that have the rubies in ’em. I’ve thought of a slick way of getting the rubies into the candy. We simply heat the rubies in a pan. Then, when they’re warm, press ’em against the bottoms of the chocolates and let ’em melt in.”

Beaver nodded appreciatively.

“Beats Leith’s idea of the soldering iron,” he agreed.

Sergeant Ackley sneered. “Leith ain’t so brainy. He’s just had the breaks, that’s all. This idea of mine is going to put him where he belongs.”