Brett Halliday - A Taste for Violence

“‘I looked at my watch and it was then exactly four-eighteen. I was more worried than ever, and I didn’t know what to do. I decided that Charles must have walked from his car to Brand’s house to keep his appointment and they had driven away together in Brand’s car so they would be less likely to be seen, since both of them, in a sense, must have wanted to keep their meeting a secret.

“‘I realize now that at the very moment I stood there, undecided, Charles’ body must have been stiffening in the roadside ditch less than a hundred feet away, but I had no intimation of the fact at the time. I did consider whether I should wait for Charles to return, but after carefully studying all the factors involved, came to the conclusion that it would only be embarrassing to both of us were I to do so.

“‘I then drove directly to the Roche home which I found brilliantly lighted and where I was met at the door by Mrs. Roche who was still fully dressed and in a state of nerves bordering on hysteria. To reassure her as much as possible, I lied by saying I had been to the Brand house and there was no sign of her husband in the vicinity, and told her I was sure Charles must have thought better of his foolhardy errand and had probably gone down to the city for a drink and had been inveigled into a late card game by some of the boys.

“‘She was visibly calmer when I left the house a few minutes before five o’clock, and promised me faithfully that she would go to bed and try to get some rest.

“‘I drove straight home and went to bed. At six o’clock I was awakened by the telephone, and was told the dreadful news.

“‘In the death of Charles Roche, Centerville has lost one of its finest young citizens, and the person or persons responsible for this outrage against everything we hold dear to our hearts must be hunted down ruthlessly and exterminated without mercy, as one would grind a rattlesnake under heel. I hereby offer the authorities every facility of the Roche Mining Properties to further this crusade, and a personal reward of one thousand dollars for the arrest and conviction of Charles Roche’s murderer.

“‘I wish to say one thing more. I realize I am under oath and I state with all solemnity and with full knowledge of the possible consequences, that in my personal opinion George Brand murdered Mr. Roche in cold blood after rejecting whatever compromise proposal for settlement of the present strike Charles offered.

“‘I call upon all you right-thinking citizens of Centerville who have followed this man’s subversive leadership to your ruination to cast aside the shackles with which he has enslaved you, and proclaim yourselves free men again. George Brand stands before you with blood streaming from his hands. The blood of one of the kindest and fairest of employers, the son of the beloved John Roche who pioneered to build this community into what it is today, who provided jobs for you that your children might be fed and who led the fight for every labor reform which he felt would better your condition.

“‘Call off this costly and bloody strike now! You cannot possibly win. Our company is prepared to remain shut down for years, if forced to do so to win. We will not deal with murderers and those who seek to wreck our American system. Pick up your tools and return to work, and the day our production reaches normal again, you may come to me with your grievances and they will receive my fair and impartial attention as always. Those workers who do not heed this call are openly allying themselves with traitors to our country who are leading you to your own destruction. Roche Workers… Stand up and be counted! Do you condone coldblooded murder?

“‘If not: Return to work tomorrow.’”

Lucy drew in a deep breath and said, “Whew!” She looked at Shayne when they reached the end of Mr. Gerald’s impassioned plea.

Shayne’s bushy red brows were drawn low and his face was bleak. He nodded slowly and said, “This guy George Brand is drawn and quartered. I feel sorry as hell for him if he didn’t kill Roche.”

The waiter brought their bottle of brandy, glasses, ice and soda. Shayne poured a little brandy in his glass, tasted it straight and puckered his wide mouth. He added more brandy, then ice cubes and a generous dash of soda, and fixed a glass for Lucy.

“That letter you had from Mr. Roche, Michael,” she asked hesitantly, “does it… is there anything in it that gives you a clue?”

“It was pretty vague. The most important thing in it was his indication that he didn’t trust someone… or anyone close to him. Let’s see what they’ve actually got on Brand.”

He took a long sip from his glass, pulled the paper toward them, and they continued to read the story covering the entire front page of the Centerville Gazette:

“Chief Elwood refused any direct comment at the time when Seth Gerald flatly accused George Brand of the murder. He stated, ‘We are checking up on the fellow, and if enough evidence is produced against him, you may be sure he won’t escape justice. But I intend this to be handled in a legal manner.’

“The investigation was proceeding methodically and with a thoroughness that is characteristic of Chief Elwood. Brand had been awakened at seven o’clock and professed to be surprised at the news of Mr. Roche’s death. He emphatically denied having had an appointment with Roche, and denied having seen him for several days. He admitted, under questioning, that he was the owner of a Colt. 44, but when asked to produce it, claimed that it must have been stolen from the bureau drawer where it was usually kept. He stated that he had not seen the revolver for several days, and supposed that anyone might have walked in his unlocked house and stolen it during that period.

“Confronted with the death weapon, and under severe grilling by Chief Elwood, Brand reluctantly conceded that it might be his property, but insisted it was impossible to positively identify it.

“Brand’s story of his movements during the night is simple, and, if verified, provides him with a foolproof alibi for the time of the crime. His verbatim statement follows, as taken down by an official stenographer at his home this morning:

“‘I am deeply shocked by this news and make this statement of my own free will. I had met Mr. Charles Roche several times, and I feel that our cause has lost a friend. I considered him an honorable gentleman and had great hopes that when he assumed management of the Roche Mines in a few days we would be able to reach an agreement which would permit all the miners to go back to work at a living wage.

“‘Thus, anyone with the brains of a lizard can see that my union and I stood to lose more by his death than anyone else in Centerville, and I certainly would have been the last man on earth to harm him.

“‘We held a meeting of the Steering Committee at the Union Hall last night. This broke up about midnight, and I went down to Bert’s Place with some of the boys for a sandwich. Most of them drifted away about one o’clock, and Joseph Margule suggested that he and I go on to a friendly game at Jethro Home’s place.

“‘We took a dozen bottles of beer with us, and drove out in my car. Home lives about three miles east, just off the highway. When we arrived at one-thirty, we found Jim Place and Dave Burroughs and Home playing pennyante in the kitchen. Place left the game soon after we arrived, and the other four of us stayed and played poker until slightly after five o’clock. I dropped Burroughs and Margule off at their houses and drove on home myself, arriving at exactly five-twenty. I know the time because it was daylight, and Mrs. Cornell, my neighbor across the street, had just stepped out on her porch. She waved to me and said something about me being out mighty late, and I looked at my watch. I told her it was just five-twenty, and asked what she was doing up so early. She said something about having a headache and couldn’t sleep. Then I put my car in the garage and went to bed.’