Ричард Деминг - The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK®

All fourteen of those threatened had immediately been placed under heavy police guard. But after six weeks with no attempts on the lives of any of the fourteen, no further threats and no reported sightings of the notorious bandit that could be authenticated, the guard had been relieved. Nothing had been heard of James Clayton since, and it was now months since he had even been mentioned in the news.

Josephine said, in a tone she tried to keep steady, “He was just lying low until he was sure security measures had been relaxed, then?”

“Apparently. I thought at the time that the publicity given his threat, and particularly the publicity given to the security measures taken to protect all of you, was a mistake. I wasn’t on the case at that time, but I recall there were even photographs in the paper of some of the threatened jurors with their police bodyguards.”

Josephine nodded. “There was one of me and Mrs. Murphy, seated together in this room, on the front page. Mrs. Murphy was the policewoman who stayed here nights after the threat.”

“Oh, yes, Connie Murphy. She’s currently on leave to have a baby.”

“Well, how nice!” Then Josephine pulled herself from this pleasant distraction back to the unpleasant reality of murder. “When did it happen? Mrs. Sommerfield, I mean.”

“Apparently last night, but it wasn’t discovered until this morning, when a friend dropped by to see her. She was a widow and lived alone, you know. It will be in tonight’s paper, although we are not at this time releasing that we think the killer was Clayton. We don’t intend to make the same mistake we did after his threatening letter.”

“I see. How—how was it done?”

“With a knife. No weapon was found at the scene, but we guess it was a switchblade, since he’s known to carry one with a seven-inch blade. There was only a single stab wound, through the heart, and apparently she was killed in her sleep, because she was in bed and there was no sign of a struggle.”

Josephine shivered. “How did he get in?”

“We don’t know. There was no sign of forced entry. The front door was off the latch, which is how the friend got in when she discovered the body, but we think he left it that way on the way out. The friend says it’s inconceivable that Mrs. Sommerfield would have left any door or window unlocked, because she was almost neurotically afraid of burglars. James Clayton is an expert burglar, though, in addition to being a heist artist. As a matter of fact, he has numerous criminal talents. He’s really quite a clever man, even if he is psychotic. And he’s slippery as an eel. As you know, we’ve never even come close to laying a hand on him. If he hadn’t been off somewhere when his girlfriend was taken, I rather suspect he might have slid her out of that.”

After a period of silence, Josephine asked, “If there was no sign of forced entry, and no weapon left behind, how do you know it was James Clayton?”

“He inadvertently left behind a clue. A list containing the names of all twelve jurors in the Pitton case, the judge and the prosecutor. Mrs. Sommerfield’s name was first on the list, and a line in red ink was drawn through it. We think that what happened was that he took out the list to draw a line through her name immediately after killing her, then for some reason got rattled and left it lying on her dresser instead of putting it back in his pocket. The woman kept a cat, and maybe it came into the bedroom and distracted him just then. The paper had some fingerprints on it, but we can’t check them against Clayton’s because his aren’t on file. He’s never been in custody.”

“Yes, I recall that from the time of the trial. Do you think he still plans to carry out his two-victims-at-a-time threat?”

“There is no reason to believe he has changed his plan. If he manages to kill a second victim, we anticipate that the judge will get another letter demanding Delores Pitton’s release, or he will kill another two.”

After considering this, Josephine said, “Then we will all be placed under guard again for awhile. The police can hardly afford to keep around-the-clock bodyguards on twelve people indefinitely, so when they are eventually withdrawn, he will come back and kill two more.”

“We plan to prevent him from killing his second victim. We hope to catch him.”

Josephine said dryly, “Neither the police from coast-to-coast nor the FBI has had much success at that endeavor up to now.”

“No,” the sergeant admitted. “But do you suggest we release Delores Pitton from prison?”

“Of course not. Every thug in the country with a girlfriend or partner in jail would immediately try the same stunt.”

“Exactly,” Sergeant Cord agreed.

“Nevertheless it leaves us survivors in a rather uncomfortable position. Do you recall where I was on that list you mentioned, Sergeant?”

“Second, Miss Henry.”

Josephine blinked.

“There is nothing to worry about, though,” he assured her. “You are already under around-the-clock guard. The officer in the hallway I introduced you to will remain there after I leave, and will be relieved by another guard when his trick is up. There is also an officer stationed behind the apartment building at the back door to check everyone who goes in that way.”

“Last time a policewoman stayed with me nights.”

“One will this time also. I am assigning to you the women’s pistol champ of the force.”

“Well, that’s somewhat reassuring,” Josephine said.

The detective stood up. “I guess that about covers it, Miss Henry. Officer Phelps—that’s the policewoman I’m sending over, Gladys Phelps—will be along well before dark. Meantime, if you wish to go out anywhere, Officer Dewey out in the hallway will accompany you.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Would you like a cookie before you go? I was just taking them from the oven when you rang the bell.”

“I can smell them,” he said, sitting down again. “Thank you, I would love one.”

As Josephine rose from the sofa, the door chimes sounded, again sending Coco Joe to the door, barking furiously. Josephine gave Sergeant Cord an inquiring look.

“Your caller had to be passed by Officer Dewey,” he said reassuringly. “But just to make sure, I’ll check.”

Rising, he went over to the door and peered through the peephole. At his feet the Pomeranian continued his furious barking.

“Someone in orange coveralls,” he announced. “A woman, I think.”

“Oh, that’s the Canine Beauty Care Center , come to take Coco for his weekly bath and trim.”

The police officer stepped back and Josephine opened the door. Coco Joe rushed out, snarling, then stopped and began to wag his tail after a sniff at the messenger’s legs.

The woman was tall and rather masculine looking, with short-cropped black hair and a lean, not very curvaceous body. She wore one-piece coveralls of bright orange with Canine Beauty Care Center embroidered in small black letters over her heart. Josephine had never seen her before.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” she said. “What happened to Stella?”

“She’s on vacation. I’m Margie.” She glanced at Sergeant Cord behind Josephine, at Officer Dewey alongside the door, then stooped to pick up the little dog. “I guess this is Coco Joe, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s Coco,” Josephine said. “You’re going with the nice lady, Coco Joe. You be good now.”

“Oh, he’ll be good,” the woman said, stroking the dog’s neck. “He’s a little darling. Will you be home about six, Miss Henry?”

“Yes, I plan to be.”

“Then I’ll drop him off on my way home, instead of making a special trip. I go within a few blocks of here.”