Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 75, No. 4, April 15, 1933
- Автор: Day Stanley, Dunn J. Allan
- Год: 1933
- Язык: английский
- Год: Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 75, No. 4, April 15, 1933». Краткое содержание книги:
Police Inspector Brame sat in his favorite chair, looking out of the window.
There were four members who preempted that semi-circle of chairs around the big window. There was Renfroe, the banker; Bill Pope, the explorer; Police Inspector Phil Brame, and Dan Seller, whose occupation had never been disclosed.
Renfroe, the banker, knew that Dan Seller kept a substantial balance on deposit in his bank, and was inclined to treat Seller with a certain deference. Police Inspector Phil Brame, on the other hand, regarded Seller as a wealthy idler, and made no attempt to disguise his prejudice. Bill Pope, the explorer, bronzed by excursions into the tropical jungles, regarded Dan Seller with quizzical interest.
Dan Seller, young, well-knit, expensively tailored, showed entire unconcern as to the opinions the other three men might hold about him. His manner was that of a wealthy idler who need not work, and who is utterly self sufficient.
Yet it was Dan Seller who first detected something unusual in the manner of the man with the iron-gray hair and the close-cropped white mustache.
“I think, Inspector,” he drawled, “that you’ve got a customer.”
Inspector Brame glanced at Dan Seller curiously, then, as a jerk of Seller’s head indicated the man that was approaching, Inspector Brame’s eyes shifted to look with the steady, patient eyes of the man with the closecropped mustache.
“Inspector Brame?” asked the man, his voice well modulated but firm.
Brame nodded.
“I don’t seem to place you,” he said.
“You wouldn’t,” said the man. “The name is Pruett, Walter C. Pruett.”
Inspector Brame’s forehead wash-boarded with reflection.
“Pruett,” he said. “Pruett. I’ve heard the name...”
The man with the iron-gray hair stood directly in front of Inspector Brame’s chair, his feet planted widely apart, his jaw jutting forward with an air of grim determination.
“I am the father,” he said, “of Ed Pruett. I’m sorry to approach you at your club, but I did it because it was the only way I could reach you. My boy is innocent of that crime, and the police are giving him a raw deal, simply because they’re too ignorant or too lazy to get out and chase down the real facts...”
Inspector Brame got to his feet, his face flushed slightly. His eyes were cold and hard.
“Are you,” he asked, “a member of this club?”
The gray-haired man shook his head.
“I got past the door man under false pretenses,” he admitted. “That is beside the point. I came to you because I wanted to tell you, personally, just where the police are making a mistake. I tell you, there were burglars in that house, and I believe an investigation will show that hijackers...”
“Steward!” shouted Inspector Brame, turning his head in a searching scrutiny.
“Steward! This way!”
A slender man with alert eyes and deferential manner caught the note of urgency in Inspector Brame’s voice, and came on the run to the window.
“What is it?” he said.
“This man,” said Inspector Brame, “isn’t a member of the club. He’s in here under false pretenses. He worked his way past the door man in order to approach me upon a business matter. Throw him out!”
The steward stepped forward and tapped the intruder on the shoulder.
“This way, please,” he said, “and don’t make a commotion.”
The man held his steady, patient eyes on Inspector Brame’s face.
“Will you give me a chance to explain?” he said.
“No!” rapped Inspector Brame. “I won’t discuss the matter. The case is closed.”
The steward’s hand took a tentative grip on the collar of the man’s coat.
“Now, don’t make a scene,” he said, “or we’ll have you arrested. That’s Police Inspector Phil Brame you’re talking with.”
“I know who it is,” said the man. “I wanted to tell him...”
Brame interrupted impatiently.
“Get out,” he said, “and stay out! I don’t want to talk with you. Do you understand? Steward, if this man doesn’t leave, get the officer on the beat. Tell him I want him right away.”
The intruder shrugged his shoulders, turned with an air of almost military dignity.
“It won’t be necessary, steward,” he said. “I’ll go with you. I couldn’t believe that the police heads could be guilty of such damnable bungling. I was willing to admit the underlings didn’t know any better.”
Relief showed in the face of the steward. He shifted his hand to the man’s arm. Together they walked toward the elevator.
Inspector Brame sank back to his chair, his face still purple, his eyes indignant.
“Can you beat that?” he demanded. “The father of a damned, cold-blooded murderer coming to my club in order to intercede for his boy! You’d think the man would be hanging his head in shame, instead of bursting into gentlemen’s clubs, annoying the representatives of law and order!”
Renfroe, the banker, said coldly: “You were more patient with him than I would have been. He’s the father of this Ed Pruett who killed Doctor George Lancaster last night?”
“That’s the chap,” said Inspector Brame. “It was plain, deliberate murder, with no extenuating circumstances.”
Bill Pope lit a cigarette.
“The father looks like rather a nice man to me,” he said. “He seemed to have something to tell you that he thought was important.”
Brame snorted.
“The case is dead open and shut,” he said. “Didn’t you read about it in the papers?”
Renfroe nodded.
“The boy broke into the house in the first place, didn’t he?” he said.
“It amounts to about the same thing,” Inspector Brame growled. “He was in love with Lita Monteith, Lancaster’s niece. Doctor Lancaster had forbidden him to call on the girl, and had kept the girl shut up so they couldn’t have any clandestine meetings.
“Ed Pruett goes up to the house, finds out what room the girl’s in, taps on the window, and gets her to let him in. Lancaster heard voices and surprised them. He ordered Pruett out of the house, and Pruett stood his ground. Doctor Lancaster tried to put him out, and Pruett, who is a young, husky fellow, threw Doctor Lancaster from the room. The doctor ran to his bedroom, shouting that he would get a gun. Pruett waited a few seconds, then followed him. There was the sound of a shot, and the girl rushed in to find Pruett standing over Lancaster with a gun in his hand. If that isn’t enough of a case for you, I don’t know what is.”
“What happened after that?” drawled Dan Seller.
“Pruett skipped out. He and the girl hatched up a story, by which the girl was to notify the police and claim that her uncle had been shot by robbers whom he had surprised in the house. She wasn’t going to let us know that Pruett had been there at all.”
“As a matter of fact, some things were taken, weren’t they?” asked Renfroe.
“A lot was taken,” said Inspector-Brame grimly. “A lot we knew of at the time, and a lot we didn’t find out until this afternoon. As a matter of fact, Doctor Lancaster was mixed up in some dope business. We didn’t know it until recently. After his death, we uncovered certain facts which enabled us to chase back on his activities.
“Pruett might have pled guilty to manslaughter or second degree murder if it hadn’t been for the robbery, but he looted the safe of everything it con-stained. We don’t know how much that was, but we rather suspect that there was a very large amount of cash and perhaps several other things. He took Doctor Lancaster’s watch and wallet. When we caught him, he was just getting ready to skip the country. Of course, the boys say he took the things just to make it look like a robbery, because he was afraid to report the affair as it was. He claims some one else shot Doctor Lancaster, that he heard the shot as he was going toward the Doctor’s room, and that when he rushed in the Doctor was lying on the floor, the gun beside him.”