Ричард Деминг - The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK®

At three p.m. Barney got the first of a series of phone calls from combine personnel wondering if he had heard the news. Pretending that he hadn’t, he phoned police headquarters for details.

As the combine had pretty good relations with the police, the desk man was cooperative enough, but he didn’t have much information to pass out. He told Barney that they had the murder weapon and were running a check on it and that they also had the killer’s fingerprints, but a make hadn’t as yet come back from the R. and I. bureau. He also informed him that a wire had been sent off to Nash’s wife in Chicago.

Phyllis came home at four p.m., completely unaware of what had happened. She exhibited more surprise than shock at the news, and her first reaction was eminently practical.

“How will this affect you?” she asked.

“It won’t. Mark will just start running things by himself. He’s hardly likely to elevate me to partnership.”

“Well, at least the police can’t look your way then. My first thought was that maybe you had gotten ambitious.”

Barney felt a tingle move along his spine. “What kind of a crack is that?”

“I was just searching for a motive. Somebody obviously had one. But since you don’t stand to gain anything, you shouldn’t fall under suspicion. Has Nina been informed?”

“The cops sent her a wire,” he said shortly.

Monday morning Barney and Phyllis were at breakfast when the district attorney’s secretary phoned. She asked Barney to come down to the office and bring his wife with him.

“Why my wife?” he inquired.

“Mr. Eland didn’t say, but he wants you both.”

When Barney informed Phyllis of the call, she frowned. “I suppose it’s about Johnny Nash, but why do they want me?”

“Eland’s secretary didn’t know, but she was pretty definite about it.”

When they arrived at the district attorney’s office, they were escorted right into Maurice Eland’s private office. Mark Drennan was already there. He smiled at both Barney and Phyllis as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Short, plump District Attorney Maurice Eland was plainly uncomfortable, which didn’t surprise Barney. Since the man was on the payroll of the combine, there were two factors in this affair to upset him. He wouldn’t like the headlines about Johnny Nash’s death being a gang killing, and he wouldn’t be enthusiastic about having to prosecute one of the men who lined his pockets. He bustled about nervously placing chairs before his desk for his trio of visitors before seating himself behind the desk.

“We have a pretty embarrassing situation here,” he announced. “I’m hoping you can straighten it out, Barney.”

Barney hiked his eyebrows, but remained silent.

Mark Drennan said offhandedly, “They’re trying to pin Johnny’s kill on me, Barney. Seems my gun was found at the scene and checked out as the murder weapon. There was also a highball glass with my fingerprints on it.”

Phyllis emitted a little gasp. “Mark! You didn’t!”

Drennan gave her a reassuring smile. “Hardly. When I was picked up, I was carrying a gun exactly like the murder weapon, but it seems it wasn’t registered to me. Somewhere along the line there was a switch.”

Maurice Eland cleared his throat. “If Mark did commit this crime, he seems to have been incredibly sloppy about it. Which inclines me to give credence to his claim that it’s a frame. That’s why you’re here, Barney.”

“What do I know about it?”

“Time of death has been pretty definitely established as around ten thirty Saturday night,” the D.A. said. “The body was discovered only an hour later, so they were able to cut it pretty close. Mark has advanced an alibi, and if it stands up, he’ll be in the clear despite the circumstantial evidence against him. He says you’re his alibi, Barney.”

Barney put a puzzled expression on his face. “At ten thirty Saturday night I was home in bed.”

“Mark claims he got a phone call from you at his Mud Lake cabin at ten Saturday night. If you can verify that, he obviously couldn’t have been in St. Vincent a half hour later. It’s a good hundred mile drive.”

Barney looked at Drennan, who had a waiting expression on his face. Barney let his own expression become dubious.

“Well?” Drennan asked. “What are you waiting for?”

Barney slowly shook his head. “Sorry, Mark. I’d do a lot for you, but not perjury.”

Mark Drennan seemed more regretful than disturbed. He said quietly, “You’re denying you phoned me. Barney?”

“I have to, because I didn’t.”

Drennan shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to spring my other alibi witness. I was hoping I wouldn’t. Tell Mr. Eland, honey.”

Barney’s gaze swung to his wife. Her sudden flush sent a shock wave through him.

When Phyllis remained silent, her eyes avoiding everyone in the room, Drennan said gently, “You have to talk, honey. Barney set this up, because he was the only one in a position to switch guns on me. The frame will work if you don’t talk.”

Phyllis’ flush deepened. After one quick glance at Barney, her eyes moved straight ahead to the space between Barney and Drennan. In a metallic voice she said, “I was at the cabin when my husband phoned. I had been there about an hour. I was still there until twelve noon on Sunday. Mark wasn’t out of my sight the whole time.”

Barney gaped back and forth from his wife to Drennan in stunned disbelief. “But—but Nina was the one—”

His voice trailed off.

“Not since your trip to Kansas City,” Drennan said calmly. “You haven’t any kick. All I stole was your wife. You tried to steal my life.”

Maurice Eland said with distaste, “It does seem pretty obvious that you tried to frame Mark, Barney. Which makes it equally obvious that you killed Johnny Nash.”

Barney pulled himself together enough to throw Phyllis a murderous glance. “Try to prove it,” he spat.

“Oh, I doubt that we could. I was just interested in seeing Mark cleared. What happens now is up to him.”

Mark Drennan came lazily erect, took Phyllis’ hand and drew her to her feet. Ignoring Barney, he said, “Shall we go, baby? I think we’re finished here.”

The chill didn’t begin to hit Barney until the door closed behind them.

Then he said huskily, “What do you mean, what happens now is up to Mark?”

“You ought to know that,” Eland said. “Johnny was his best friend.”

There were twenty-two members of the combine with gun permits, Barney thought. He was staggering slightly when he rose from his chair and left the office…

Originally published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine , April 1965.

In my business it isn’t often that I get two assignments in the same month, let alone on the same day. I average about four contracts a year, which at my standard fee of five grand each just barely carries me.

You might think that twenty grand a year tax free would be enough to keep any bachelor in luxury, but I have an expensive hobby: girls. So I need all the business I can get.

The first of the two assignments came through regular channels and in the usual manner. It came by first-class mail in the inevitable thick manila envelope, addressed simply to Spencer Quade, with no Mr. preceding the name, and with no return address.

Inside were the usual 50 one-hundred-dollar bills wrapped in a single sheet of bond paper. There was also the key to a Yale lock, which isn’t as usual, but had happened once or twice before. On the paper was typed:

Date : Friday, March 6

Time: 8:30 p.m.

Place: Apt. 3-C, Grandview Apts., Sterling Road, Brooklyn (key enclosed) Description : Male Caucasian, age 35, hgt. 5’10”, wgt 165