Ричард Деминг - Man-Trap

The inspector chewed his cigar dubiously. “You put your own finger on the weak spot in your reasoning. Knight’s alibi doesn’t stand up. If he had no alibi, I might go along. But innocent people don’t fake alibis.”

I said, “I don’t claim he was innocent of everything. Only of breaking the sixth commandment. Apparently he broke the seventh repeatedly.”

The inspector looked at me blankly. Fausta, who had been sitting all this time with her hands demurely folded in her lap, interpreted for him.

“Number six is, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ Number seven, ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ Do you not read the Bible, Inspector?”

“He reads the Police Gazette, ” I told her, then turned back to the inspector. “Knight’s fake alibi was for his wife’s benefit, not an attempt to deceive the police. And I’m not spouting theory. Knight was with Isobel Jones Monday evening from six fifteen until twelve forty-five. At her home.”

Day’s eyebrows went up.

“She admitted it,” I told him. “Of course it took me nearly ten minutes to break her down, whereas all you had was a night...”

“Get to the point, Moon!” Day roared, his nose beginning to whiten at the tip. “What did you get from the woman?”

So I told him.

The inspector’s scowl had faded by the time I had finished, to be replaced by a thoughtful look. “This time you think she told the truth?”

“It fits the facts too well to be another of her fairy stories. The odd thing in this case so far has been an apparent lack of motive. Of course there’s the remotely possible motive that Barney Seldon had Lancaster bumped as a roundabout method of avenging himself on Laurie Davis. But neither of us ever gave much credence to that, though Seldon must have some interest in the case, or he wouldn’t have sicked his hood on me. Incidentally, I figure the two mugs who grabbed me this morning must have been Seldon men too. Then we had Knight’s possible motive, but his getting killed pretty well eliminated him as a suspect even before we knew what we know now. Particularly since the attempt to poison Fausta came after Knight was dead. Only Lancaster’s killer would have any reason to pass at Fausta.”

The inspector said impatiently, “You’ve been talking for ten minutes since you mentioned having a brand new theory, and you still aren’t to the point. Stop acting like a senator.”

“I’m there now, Inspector. Apparently Lancaster and Knight were the only ones who knew of the irregularities in Ilco Utilities. Both are dead. Apply the hoary old question, ‘Who profits most?’ and your answer is the person responsible for the irregularities. Could be the motive for both murders was simply to silence the only people who could send an embezzler to jail. Maybe if you had the Illinois police delve into Ilco Utilities, you’d find the person responsible for the irregularities and at the same time find a murderer.”

Day was silent for a long time, his narrow nose pointed toward the cigar he had removed from his mouth and was now carefully shredding between his fingers. He said finally, “Did Laurie Davis pay your fee in advance?”

“Just half,” I said.

“Hey!” Fausta put in. “Laurie Davis is a friend of mine, Manny Moon. And anyway, he would not be so stupid as to hire you to catch him.”

“I’ve got a theory about that too,” I told her. “Maybe all he really wanted me to do was catch up with Willard Knight. Suppose Laurie knew Lancaster was going to talk things over with Knight and then blow the top off of Ilco Utilities? And suppose he also knew Knight had disappeared after the murder and would be a logical suspect? He wants Knight located fast, and what quicker way would there be than to hire a private investigator? He doesn’t have to say, ‘Find Willard Knight for me,’ because as the most logical suspect, he knows the investigator will go after Knight first. So he hires me ostensibly to find a killer, puts Farmer Cole on my tail, and when I locate Knight, the Farmer rubs him out.”

“Wait a minute,” the inspector said. “We didn’t know Knight had disappeared even here at Headquarters until you gave us the tip.”

“But Laurie may have. He had been checking into the case before he came to see me, because he knew all about Barney Seldon being questioned and released. Why don’t you check Mrs. Knight, and Harlan Jones, and his secretary, Matilda Graves, to see if anyone made some inquiries before I did? And Laurie did put Farmer Cole on my tail. To protect me, according to the Farmer, which is a bit of thoughtfulness that seems out of character for Mr. Davis.”

Fausta said, “No one was trailing us last night when Mr. Knight was killed.”

I emitted an unamused laugh. “Farmer Cole knows how to stay invisible. He was on me a whole day, and the only two times I spotted him were the two times he wanted me to.”

Day said, “I think I’m going to buy your new theory, Moon. But Davis isn’t the kind of guy you can pull in on suspicion. Before we go any farther I’m going to ask the Illinois police to look over Ilco Utilities.”

He reached for his phone.

I said, “I just had an idea which may tell us quicker if we’re on the right track. Let me make a call first.”

The inspector took his hand away from the phone, leaned back in his chair and watched me while I looked up the number of the Mohl and Townsend Investment Company in the phone book. I gave it to the switchboard operator and a moment later was talking to old Mr. Mohl.

After explaining I was in the office of the Chief of Homicide, I asked if he had any information as to who were the directors of Ilco Utilities. He left me holding the phone nearly five minutes before he came back and began reeling off a list of a dozen names. One of the names was Laurence Davis.

I said, “Thanks, Mr. Mohl,” and was about to hang up when he cleared his throat and said in his dried up voice, “A person was in making inquiries about you shortly after you left here, Mr. Moon.”

“A person?”

“I didn’t see him myself. He talked only to our receptionist. He claimed he was a friend of yours, had seen you enter the building and was trying to find you. But the manner in which he asked questions convinced the girl he was trying to pump her about what your business had been.”

“She tell him?”

“No. She suggested he talk to me, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary and departed.”

“Leave a name?” I asked.

“No. But she describes him as tall and rather thin.”

“She mention his teeth?”

“His teeth?” Alfred Mohl paused in thought, then said, “She did, now that you remind me. Rather protruding, she said.”

I said, “Thanks a lot, Mr. Mohl. I know the man.”

I hung up and told Warren Day, “Farmer Cole is still on me. He walked into Mohl and Townsend right after we left and tried to find out what I wanted there.”

“That disproves your whole theory,” Fausta said. “If he was following you simply because he wanted to kill Mr. Knight, he would have stopped after accomplishing his mission. Probably Laurie Davis has him following you to make sure you do not loaf.”

Ignoring her, I asked Day, “What do you make of that?”

The inspector shook his head. “Nothing. It doesn’t make sense. Was Davis on the list of directors?”

“Yeah. So maybe you better make that call to the Illinois police.”

That evening Don Bell, the local radio gossip, had the full story of Fausta’s narrow escape from poisoning on his nine o’clock broadcast. I was rather surprised, inasmuch as the evening papers had carried nothing but the bare announcement of the waiter’s death, with the additional information that the police were investigating.