The Seven Sinister Sombreros
- Автор: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
- Год: 1939
- Язык: английский
- Год: Street & Smith Publications
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «The Seven Sinister Sombreros». Краткое содержание книги:
“Another what?”
“Another report.”
“I don’t want any more reports!” Sergeant Ackley yelled. “I want action! I want that car brought in. I want those two dragged into headquarters and searched.”
“But this other report,” the orderly said, “has some bearing on—”
Sergeant Ackley’s face darkened. “Tell that radio car to bring that cowpuncher and the Hawaiian girl in here. I don’t give a damn about any more reports. Beat it.”
“Very good, sergeant,” the orderly said.
Captain Carmichael stopped him as he was in the act of closing the door.
“Just a minute,” said the captain. “I think I’m interested in that other report. What is it?”
“Radio Car 3,” the orderly said, “also reports that it picked up a Ford ’36 driven by a thin man who admits he’s a broncobuster and who’s wearing a cowboy ten-gallon hat. There’s a Hawaiian dancer with him. They say they’re working for a man named Lester Leith, and he hired them to drive around the city, stopping in at the night clubs and—”
Sergeant Ackley abruptly sat down in a chair, as though his knees had suddenly refused to support his weight.
Captain Carmichael’s lips twisted in the ghost of a smile. He glanced furtively at Lester Leith’s calmly tranquil countenance.
“I suppose you know, Wolsack,” Lester Leith said to the broncobuster, “that you have the right to sue Sergeant Ackley for false arrest, for defamation of character, and malicious prosecution. I’ll be very glad to put you in touch with competent counsel if you desire to go ahead.”
“You bet I want to go ahead,” the thin man said, his voice vibrant with rage.
“And I do too,” the Hawaiian girl chimed in.
Sergeant Ackley yelled: “You can’t get away with that! This is a wholesale conspiracy. You’ve deliberately shuffled this thing all up, figuring that when a person sees a thin man in a sombrero accompanied by a Hawaiian dancer, he isn’t going to look for any better description.”
Lester Leith yawned, and patted his lips with four polite fingers in a cursory attempt to disguise the yawn. “So sorry, sergeant,” he said, “but apparently you’ve forgotten the Hawaiian-American Aesthetic Art Association, organized for the purpose of promoting a closer appreciation of the true nature of Hawaiian art. In case you’re interested, sergeant, I have quite a number of cars canvassing the city, performing errands, calling on night clubs, and leaving literature. Unless you cancel that order asking all radio patrol cars to pick up these people, I’m afraid you’re going to have quite a few cases filed against you for defamation of character, for false arrest, for—”
Captain Carmichael said tersely: “He’s got you, sergeant. Cancel that order.”
Chapter IX.
The Benefactor.
Captain Carmichael, Sergeant Ackley, and Edward Beaver sat in a huddled conference at police headquarters. On the table in front of them was the morning newspaper. A photograph appeared prominently on the second page, with the caption:
Edward H. Beaver, representative of local Hawaiian-American Aesthetic Art Association, presenting diamond-studded gold surfboard to Io Wahine, Hawaiian dancer. Miss Wahine was awarded first honors by the committee appointed to canvass night clubs.
In the upper right-hand corner of the same page was an article:
Lester Leith, eccentric young millionaire and sportsman, unostentatiously donated ninety thousand dollars to the Orthepedic Hospital last night. The wealthy clubman made the donation in the form of ninety bills, each of the denomination of one thousand dollars. The windfall was entirely unexpected by the board of directors. A grateful representative of the hospital said today the institution will now be enabled to install new and much-needed equipment.
Beaver said, “I found out how he did it.”
“How?” asked Captain Andrew Carmichael.
“When he heard your siren, he knew you were following him. While this man Lanten was getting out the tools and jacking up the car, Leith had found this concealed hiding place, opened it, taken out one hundred, thousand-dollar bills. He’d cut a slit in the lining of his big cowboy hat and pushed the bills down inside the lining. It was one of those big ten-gallon affairs and would hold plenty of money. He’d insisted on the hats having a silk lining. Then when he knew you were coming, he managed to switch hats with Lanten.
“Remember, they were all identical hats. They were all the same size. They were all the same shape and appearance. He’d figured far enough ahead to know he might need an innocent man to carry the bills away, yet have them where they could be recovered at any time. So Lanten quite innocently took the loot away with him. Leith sent him to the Crestview Hotel at Lakewood. That’s a road which, after the first two miles, is entirely outside the limit of the radio patrol cars. The other Leith cars were all running around town on errands. He’d spaced them so they’d be right in the path of the radio patrol.”
Captain Carmichael nodded. “Clever,” he said slowly. “Damned clever!”
“Then when Leith left here,” Beaver went on, “he made certain he wasn’t followed, and drove directly to the Crestview Hotel. It was a cinch to switch hats there without Lanten knowing anything about it.”
“But how do you know?” Sergeant Ackley asked.
“Because I happened to notice Leith’s sombrero when he returned to the apartment last night. Of course, the money had already been removed, and after he’d taken out ten thousand to compensate himself for his expenses and trouble, he’d dropped in at the Orthopedic Hospital with the other ninety bills. Well, as I say, I looked his hat over pretty carefully, and found a slit in the lining up at the top of the crown.”
For a moment, there was silence, then Captain Carmichael asked:
“How did you happen to look there, Beaver?”
The spy coughed deprecatingly. “I don’t know,” he said, “except that being around Lester Leith the way I am, I’m studying his methods of reasoning. Frankly I think the man is a genius, despite the fact that I hate his guts. I couldn’t imagine why he’d insisted on getting such a large number of ten-gallon hats, silk-lined and which were absolutely identical in size and appearance, unless he’d intended to switch hats back and forth so that he wouldn’t actually have stolen property in his possession in case he was arrested and searched; and yet have it so he could put his hands on the money whenever he wanted it.”
Captain Carmichael nodded. “Do you know, Beaver,” he said, “we may or may not be able to catch Lester Leith red-handed, but whether we do or don’t, I think the training you’re getting out there is invaluable. I’ve been watching your progress with a great deal of interest, and I’m going to make it a point to keep my eye on you. When you finally are free to return to your detective work, I feel quite certain you’ll make a name for yourself.”
The undercover man flushed. “Thank you, captain,” he said.
Sergeant Ackley could stand no more. He blurted: “All very nice, Beaver. You’re making quite a grandstand of it, but how do you account for the fact that you threw me off on the wrong track by advancing this theory that Bradercrust was the guilty party? If you hadn’t confused me with that theory, I’d have put the finger on Wolganheimer.”
Beaver raised his eyebrows. “Why, no, sergeant,” he said. “That Bradercrust angle was your theory.”
“Why, you double-crossing—”