The Case of the Musical Cow
- Автор: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
- Год: 1950
- Язык: английский
- Год: Morrow
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Case of the Musical Cow». Краткое содержание книги:
It was there that Rob Trenton found himself on a blissful tour with the lovely, if mysterious, Linda Carroll. And it was there that the bumptious Merton Ostrander joined the twosome and, as far as Rob was concerned, made it a crowd.
But it was on a lonely road outside New York City that the real trouble began. For that was when Rob discovered the cache of dope cleverly concealed in Linda’s car — setting the scene for murder...
Once he took the borrowed automatic from his hip pocket, lowered the window of the car, and started to throw it out at the side of the road. Then he thought better of it.
The police were undoubtedly looking for him on the one hand, and the members of the smuggling ring were looking for him on the other. He could expect short shrift, as far as his liberty was concerned, from the State Police, and he could expect still shorter shrift, so far as his life was concerned, from the smugglers. He was operating what in all probability was a stolen car, and since the .32 automatic was a confiscated weapon, he felt he might as well keep it for his own protection as go soft at this stage of the game and throw it away.
Fully conscious of the fact that the license number of the car he was driving might even at that moment be listed on a general broadcast to all police cars, he turned once more into Falthaven and slid past the store fronts, now dark and silent.
At the intersection, the traffic signal was adjusted to blink merely an orange warning sign in both directions. Rob turned into Robinson Street, and slid the car to a stop in front of the big two-story old-fashioned house.
The luminous dial on his wristwatch said that it was five minutes past one o’clock in the morning.
Rob opened the door of the car and said to Lobo, “All right, boy, come on out.”
The dog bounded to the pavement, then stood to attention, ears cocked forward, waiting for his master’s orders. He sensed with canine telepathy the extent of the emergency and the tension in Rob’s voice.
“Come on,” Rob said. “At my side.”
They walked up the wooden steps to the porch, crossed over to the door and Rob held his finger against the doorbell.
He could hear the sound of chimes.
Four or five times Rob passed his finger against the bell button. Finally lights came on in one of the downstairs windows and a moment later he heard slippered feet moving towards the door.
The porch light clicked on and Rob blinked in the brilliance.
Abruptly the voice of the sharp-nosed woman on the other side of the door said, “What are you doing back here?”
“I have to see you,” Rob said. “It’s important. Terribly important.”
“To whom?”
“To me. To you. To... Linda.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy. I have to see you. I have to talk with you. Do you want me to stand here and shout the news through the door so that the neighbors will all hear it?”
The last argument turned out to be a masterpiece of strategy. It resulted in a silence of some five seconds, during which the person on the other side of the door contemplated the possibilities of the situation, then a bolt shot back, the door was opened to the limits of a heavy chain which after a moment’s manipulation dropped to one side.
The Linda Carroll whom Rob had met earlier in the day, with her glasses on the bridge of her sharp, inquiring nose, a heavy flannel wrapper thrown around her, said, “Well, come on in. I guess you’re harmless enough. You... good heavens, what’s that?”
“Merely a dog,” Rob said.
“He’s big enough to... will he bite?... look out!”
Rob took advantage of her momentary panic at the sight of the dog to push on through the door. Lobo walked in at his side, stately, dignified, plume erect and waving very gently, very slowly as an indication that he was open to overtures of friendship but was as yet definitely not committing himself.
“Now then, young man, what do you want?” the woman said.
Rob caught the eye of the dog, moved his hand in a gesture of release, indicating that the animal was to go out on a search.
For a moment Lobo looked dubious, as though he might have misunderstood the signal, but Rob repeated the motion with his hand and Lobo padded out into the room.
Rob said, “I’ve become convinced that I was given a run-around this noon. Things have happened since that...”
“What do you mean?” she interrupted.
“I think someone traveled on your passport and I think you know a great many facts which are vital to me and which you haven’t told me.”
“Well, I don’t know why I have to tell you everything I know, and I certainly don’t like the idea of being hauled out of bed at almost two o’clock in the morning to answer a lot of questions.”
Rob said, “The State Police are working on this thing. There’s a question of dope smuggling, and there’s a question of attempted murder.”
“Attempted murder? What are you talking about?”
“Someone very definitely tried to take me for a ride.”
“Oh, good Lord! All the gangster jargon and all of that sensational stuff. What do you think I am? You come here and spout off all this stuff and...”
Rob interrupted. “I want a definite answer to the question. Is there or is there not another Linda Carroll whom you know?”
“And you get me up out of bed at two o’clock in the morning to answer a foolish question like that, young man? I’m going to call the police if you don’t get out of here immediately.”
Lobo, who had been moving around the room sniffing more and more excitedly with his nose to the floor, suddenly raised his paw and scratched on a door which opened from the studio.
Rob Trenton pushed his way past the robed figure of the artist, and stole across the studio to join the dog.
The woman completely misunderstood his intentions.
“That right,” she said. “You get that dog out of here. He’s scratching up the place. Make him go lie down. Put him out on the porch. That’s where a dog belongs.”
Rob reached out and jerked the door open.
The Linda Carroll whom he had known on the boat, attired in housecoat and slippers, was crouched on the inside of the door, her ear to the keyhole.
For a moment, sheer surprise held her motionless, and as Rob jerked the door open she retained that half-crouched position.
Lobo, whining eagerly, placed his muzzle within a fraction of an inch of her face.
“Oh!” she cried, and straightened.
Lobo thrust his head against her hand and the fingers mechanically rubbed the fur between his ears, but her eyes, startled and apprehensive, were fixed on Rob Trenton.
“I thought you’d be here,” Rob Trenton said with calm satisfaction.
The older woman, striding across the room, shrilled, “What do you mean coming in here like this? You listen to me, young man, you get out of here! Don’t think you’re going to be jerking open bedroom doors and...”
Rob kept his back turned to her, his eyes locked with Linda Carroll’s.
“Do you,” he asked, “have any explanation to make before I call the police?”
“Before you call the police? Well, I like that,” the older woman said. “I’m going to call the police. I...”
“Aunt Linda, please,” the younger woman said. “Please don’t. Let’s go at this thing on a reasonable basis.”
“Did you know,” Rob asked, “that your car was being used as a vehicle for the smuggling of dope?”
“Rob Trenton, what on earth are you talking about? What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Your car was used for the purpose of smuggling a lot of dope into this country.”
“Why, Rob! I don’t know a thing about it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“You owe me an explanation,” Trenton said, “and you might begin by explaining all this masquerade.”