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

“You’ll be back soon, sir?” asked the valet, noticing that Lester Leith had evening clothes under his overcoat.

Lester Leith smiled. “Scuttle,” he said, “I am an opportunist.”

And the outer door clicked as the spring lock shot into place.

The spy made a lunge for the telephone, where he called Sergeant Ackley and poured out a report which made the sergeant mutter exclamations of anger.

“Dammit, Beaver, he couldn’t have given away all the candy!”

“But he did.”

“And he went with her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ve got shadows on the job. They’ll tail him.”

“Yes, Sergeant, I know, but how about the candy? The shadows will tail Leith, but they won’t tail the girl after Leith leaves her. She’ll have the candy, and the candy’s got a bunch of rubies and diamonds in it—”

“Damn that fool idea of yours, Beaver. Get down and tell those shadows to forget Leith and tail the candy. Tail that candy."

But by the time Beaver reached the sidewalk there was no trace of Leith, the girl, or the candy. Nor, of course, of the shadows. Following instructions, they had tailed Lester Leith.

It was well past midnight when Lester Leith returned. He scowled at his valet.

“Tut, tut, Scuttle, you have turned the heat on! Here I work out a new calendar arrangement that’s to be a boon to mankind, and you spoil it all. It’s July, Scuttle! One doesn’t have steam heat on in July!”

The valet could only raise his tired eyes.

Leith softened. “Scuttle, I’ll have some errands for you to do in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ring up Sergeant Ackley and tell him I have a valuable clue on the Mills robbery. Then I want you to remember our patriotic obligations.”

“Patriotic obligations, sir?”

“Quite right, Scuttle. Notice the date.”

“It’s the second — no, it’s the third of November.”

“No, no, it’s the third of July! And on the fourth we celebrate the anniversary of the independence of our country. I shall want some firecrackers, Scuttle, and some slow-match—‘punk,’ I think it’s called. You can get them all at one of the Chinese stores. They keep firecrackers, not as seasonal merchandise, but as a staple.”

“Lord, sir, are you really going to celebrate the fourth of July on the fourth of November?”

“Certainly, Scuttle. I presume you are not attempting to criticize me?”

“No sir. I shall attend to the matter in the morning, sir.”

“That’s fine, Scuttle, and I wish you’d get me a siren.”

“A what?”

“One of the electric sirens such as are used on police cars, Scuttle.”

“But it’s against the law to have one on your car unless you’re an officer, sir.”

“I didn’t say anything about putting it on my car. I merely said I wanted one.”

The valet nodded, then left, his expression more puzzled than ever.

For more than an hour Leith sat and smoked. From time to time he nodded his head as if he were checking the moves in a complicated game.

At the end of an hour he chuckled.

The morning was still young when Lester Leith was aroused by his valet.

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s Sergeant Ackley. You remember you told me to tell him you had a clue on the Mills robbery? Well, sir, Sergeant Ackley wouldn’t wait. He’s in the apartment now.”

Leith stretched and yawned.

“Quite right, Scuttle. The sergeant is only doing his duty. Show him in.”

The valet opened the door and Sergeant Ackley strode into the room.

“Well,” said the sergeant. “What’s the dope on Mills?”

Leith sat up.

“You doubtless know, Sergeant, that I sent, my valet, for some candy to the same firm where Griggy the Gat was killed after the robbery. I had a theory that the thief might have put some of the stones in the candy, and—”

Sergeant Ackley rubbed his tired, red-rimmed eyes.

“Well, you can forget that! Thanks to that idea of yours, I had my men put in most of the night melting down every bit of candy and chocolate in the place. And we got nothing — absolutely nothing!”

“Did you now?” said Lester Leith. “That’s strange, because I gave away my candy last night to a very beautiful young lady. When I left her she insisted that I eat some candy, and would you believe it, Sergeant, when I bit into that piece of candy there were three foreign substances in the filling!”

Sergeant Ackley’s cigar drooped.

“Three!” he yelled.

“Yes, Sergeant, three. One of them was a cinnamon drop I’d put in myself earlier in the evening when I was experimenting, and the other two were red stones. I feel quite certain they are rubies. And I’m wondering, Sergeant, if perhaps they aren’t some of the stolen loot.”

Lester Leith reached in the pocket of his pajamas and took out a handkerchief. In this handkerchief was a knot, which, on being loosened, revealed two large rubies of such deep fire and so perfectly matched that they looked like two drops of jeweled pigeon-blood.

“Both in the same piece of candy?” asked Sergeant Ackley.

“Both in the same piece, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Ackley framed his next question with a carelessness that was far too elaborate.

“Don’t know where the girl is? The one that you gave the candy to?”

Lester Leith shook his head.

The sergeant turned to the door.

“Going to see her again?”

Lester Leith shrugged. Then he said brightly, “You want to help me celebrate the fourth, Sergeant?”

“The fourth?”

“Of July, you know.”

“Why, dammit, this is November.”

“Oh, no, Sergeant, this is July. My new calendar calls—”

“Oh, hell!” stormed the sergeant, and slammed the door behind him.

Outdoors, he called the police shadows and gave them instructions.

“Tail Leith until he brings you to the candy or to the girl that’s got the candy. After that, drop Leith and tail the candy. Get me? I want that candy!”

The police shadows saluted and returned to their stations. They waited for more than an hour before Lester Leith emerged.

Nor was it any secret to Lester Leith that the police shadows were waiting for him. He walked up to them.

“Gentlemen, good morning. So you won’t have any trouble following me, I am going to get a taxicab. I will go directly to the Mills shop, where I will talk with Mr. Mills, the gentleman who was robbed. If you should lose me at any stage of the journey you can go directly there.”

In the Mills shop Lester Leith became all business.

“Mr. Mills, what would you say to a process which produced wonderful pearls at a small cost? The best experts would swear they were genuine.”

Mr. Carter Mills was a heavyset man with an undershot jaw and a leering eye.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re just another fool with another synthetic pearl scheme. Get out!”

Lester Leith took a pearl from his pocket and rolled it across the desk.

“Keep that as a souvenir of my visit,” he said.

The jeweler picked up the pearl between his thumb and forefinger and was about to throw it away when he caught sight of the smooth sheen. He opened a drawer, took out a magnifying glass, and focused it on the pearl. Then he pressed a button on the side of his desk.

Lester Leith lit a cigarette.

The door of the private office opened and a man entered.

“Markle,” snapped Mills, “take a look at this and tell me what it is.”

The man nodded to Lester Leith, took a glass from his pocket, accepted the pearl from Mills, and studied it attentively. After nearly a minute Markle pronounced his verdict.

“It’s a genuine pearl. Luster is good and it has a good shape.”