The Almost Perfect Murder Part 14

"Quite easily," she answered. "It was dark in the room and our eyes were fastened on Ram Lal's face. Somebody might have crept along the floor."

I was looking at that sweating trio when she said it, and I saw strange glances of terror pa.s.s between them. If they were all in this together they must have foreseen what would follow, and why should they look at each other? It was completely baffling.

The body was removed from the house for an autopsy.

Inspector Rumsey then set about searching the suspected persons. Dr. Cushack came first. When the pocket medicine case came to light, the Inspector handed it over to the doctor for examination. The latter whistled upon reading the labels on the vials.

"A choice collection of poisons!" he remarked. "Some of them so rare I am not familiar with their properties.... Do you use nothing but poisons in your practice?" he queried sarcastically.

"I don't practice," muttered the young man. "I am engaged in research. Poisons happen to be my speciality."

"Which poison were you intending to give Mrs. Julian?" asked Mme. Storey dryly.

Cushack paled. I suppose he had forgotten that incident. "No poison! No poison!" he stammered. "This bottle," he pointed to one of the vials, "is marked antimony, but it only contains bicarbonate of soda. I ... I ... These labels ... are just a bluff."

Everybody smiled.

"If you don't believe me, a.n.a.lyse them! a.n.a.lyse them!" he cried.

One of the little vials was empty, which was suggestive if not exactly incriminating. It bore no label. Nothing else of interest was found upon him.

Next came the woman. From the side pocket of her smart jacket the Inspector lifted a little leather case which, upon being opened, revealed a hypodermic needle. She screamed at the sight of it.

"That's not mine! I never saw it before! I don't own such a thing! I don't know how it got into my pocket! You put it there yourself!"

"That's what they all say," remarked the Inspector wearily.

"I swear it! I swear it!" she screamed.

"Don't swear to me," he said. "You'll have plenty of it to do later."

She raved and beat her breast, but whether it was innocent or guilty terror I declare I could not tell. After all, they look much the same. You have to go by the evidence.

The old man Liptrott was fairly gibbering with fright when the Inspector reached him. It was impossible to get a sensible word out of him. Only crazy talk about his machine. Nothing incriminating was found on him. But Mme. Storey pointed out that the mysterious apparatus was plugged into the wall at the moment of Ram Lal's death, therefore the old man could not be freed of suspicion until the nature of his machine had been investigated.

"It couldn't hurt a fly!" cried Liptrott. "It's to save life, not to destroy it!"

"I'll put it in the hands of an expert for examination," said Inspector Rumsey.

The old man looked at him aghast. Then suddenly frantic, he aimed a kick at his beloved machine that would certainly have destroyed it, had not Mme. Storey coolly moved it out of the way. A policeman flung an arm around the old man.

"It's the work of a lifetime!" he raved. "They'll steal it from me! They'll steal it!"

As they were about to be taken away Mme. Storey said in that dangerously pleasant way of hers: "Which one of you sent me, or caused to be sent me, a message this morning warning me of what was going to happen?"

They stared at her blankly.

"Somebody telephoned me that a murder would be committed here this morning."

I shall never forget the looks of consternation that spread over those three faces. For the moment they were incapable of replying. Then each stammeringly denied all knowledge of the telephone call. Again they glanced at each other in fear and suspicion. One thing was clear, they were speaking the truth then. Such perfect surprise could not have been a.s.sumed. That, I suppose, was what my employer was after.

IV I need hardly say that the case created a first-cla.s.s sensation in the press. Mrs. Julian's wealth and prominence; the suggestions of mystery and chicanery; the weird Oriental flavour; it had everything. The public excitement seriously hampered the police and Mme. Storey in their work, but of course we could not blame the newspapers for making the most of a good story.

The reporters were already waiting for us in a body when we returned to the office. Mme. Storey is popular with these boys because she deals fairly with them. She will keep back information when it seems necessary, but she does not lie to them. She now gave them the plain facts of what had happened in Mrs. Julian's house, and asked them to withhold comment until the result of the autopsy became known.

"But the man is certainly dead," said one.

"Quite!" said my employer with a dry smile. "But it is possible he died from natural causes."

They glanced at each other peculiarly, and young Wins.h.i.+p of the Morning Press dropped a bombsh.e.l.l at our feet by asking: "Is it true, Madame Storey, that an unknown person called you on the telephone this morning, and warned you that a murder would be committed at Mrs. Julian's house?"

She bit her lip in chagrin. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"My city editor told me to ask you."

"We all heard the story," said the others in chorus.

Before she answered them Mme. Storey had me call up the city editor of the Morning Press. He told me he had been given the story by an anonymous person over the telephone, and that, of course, he would not run it unless Mme. Storey confirmed it. Presumably the same message had been sent to all the papers.

This put my employer in rather a difficult position. But she settled it promptly. "Yes, it is true," she said. "I thought it was a hoax, but I immediately called up Inspector Rumsey to tell him, and I went myself to Mrs. Julian's house."

She was immediately bombarded with questions. "If you knew it, why didn't you stop it? Why did you allow the seance to go on?" And so forth. And so forth.

"No more now," she said firmly. "I'm going to ask you boys to say nothing about the telephone call until we find out where we stand."

"Why? Why?" they asked.

"Well, for one thing, I'd like to disappoint the mysterious gentleman who is so keen about having it published."

They were all willing to keep this piece of information back for twenty-four hours except a man on one of those irresponsible sheets that would sacrifice their mothers if there was a sensation in it. I need not name it. This man slipped out of the room, and we knew he had run off to his office with the story. That let them all out, of course. They beat it for their offices.

My employer merely shrugged. "We can't reform the press," she said. "We have to work with it as we find it."

An hour or two later the first editions came out with scare heads. Well, it was a juicy story. We got a shock when we read it, for, in spite of the care Mme. Storey had taken to prevent such a thing, it included a preposterous interview with Mrs. Julian.

We taxied to her house at once, for there was no telling how she might react to the story of the telephone warning. Just as we were setting out, we received some interesting particulars from the police as to the so-called Ram Lal's antecedents.

Bunbury let us into Mrs. Julian's house. As befitted the perfect butler his aspect was calm and grave. You would never have guessed from him that a tragedy had been enacted upstairs that day. After all, he was the only person in the house who had kept his head, and Mme. Storey smiled at him encouragingly.

"How is your mistress, Bunbury?"

"Calm, madam."

"Bunbury, for her own sake you ought not to let her talk to newspaper reporters."

He shrugged deprecatingly. "What can I do, madam? I perceived from the first that it would be unwise, but she ignored my suggestions. I cannot aspire to influence her actions."

"What time did Ram Lal arrive here this morning?"

"Ten o'clock, madam."

"Did you notice anything unusual about him?"

"No, madam, I perceived nothing out of the way."

"Did he talk to anybody before he saw Mrs. Julian?"

"No, madam, I showed him directly to the boudoir. Dr. Cushack and Mrs. Bracker were already there. Mr. Liptrott came later."

As we moved towards the stairway Mme. Storey saw by Bunbury's face that he wished to say more. She paused.

"If I might add a word," he went on apologetically, "--I hope it is not unbecoming from one in my position--I have worked for Mrs. Julian for eight years and I am sincerely attached to her. I hope you will give her a good talking to, madam. She will listen to you. From the first I perceived that something like this was bound to happen--indeed I feared it might be worse."

"I'll do my best, Bunbury," said Mme. Storey gravely.

We went on up to the boudoir. That woman's folly was simply incredible. We found her swathed in black chiffon, her face made up dead white. She was seated in front of the lacquer table, on which she had placed a photograph of the smug and unpleasant Ram Lal flanked with lighted candles. Turning on my employer like a tragedy queen, she shot out an accusing forefinger.

"You knew what was going to happen! And you didn't prevent it! I could almost call you his murderer!"

"Be yourself, Aline," said Mme. Storey calmly. "I thought it was a hoax. We are continually being hoaxed over the telephone."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, you are not a person that one tells things to. You carry on so!"

I doubt if this reached Mrs. Julian's understanding.

"I thought the threat--if there was a threat--was directed against you," Mme. Storey went on. "Who could ever have foreseen that it was worth anybody's while to murder Ram Lal?"

It was useless to try to reason with Mrs. Julian. She raved on, calling on Heaven to witness what a pure and holy man had been struck down. There was a sort of complacency in her that suggested she was thoroughly enjoying her own dramatics. Exasperating. However, Mme. Storey merely smoked on and let her rave. When she could get a word in edgewise, she said: "When you quiet down we will discuss how to set about finding the murderer. That's all we can do for Ram Lal now."

This started Mrs. Julian off at a new tangent. "She did it!" she cried. "That woman! She was jealous of my favour. Oh, what black ingrat.i.tude! After the thousands I have spent on her!"

"How could she have done it?" asked Mme. Storey mildly.

"Stole up to him when it was dark, and stuck the poisoned needle in his leg! ... I saw her! I saw her!" she cried wildly.

Mme. Storey was not impressed. "Why didn't you say so at once?" she asked.

"I was too much shocked. I didn't realise.... But I saw her, I tell you!"

"Now come, Aline," said my employer. "Are you prepared to go on the stand and swear that you saw Mrs. Bracker do it?"

Mrs. Julian began to falter. "Well ... no.... But she did it just the same. They found the needle on her, didn't they?"

"She claimed that it was planted in her pocket."

"That's a lie, anyhow! She bought that needle a week ago. I know that."

Mme. Storey took more interest. "That's important if true. How do you know it?"

"One day after she had been here I found a little package on the table wrapped in druggists' paper. Not knowing whose it was, I opened it, and the hypodermic needle was inside. She was quite embarra.s.sed when I asked her about it. Said she had bought it for a friend."

"Was the name of the druggist on the paper?"

"Yes. It was Almon and Emory."

"Can you fix the date?"

"Let me see ... I was wearing my new pink dress when I handed it to her. That was Sat.u.r.day. It must have been Friday when she bought it."

"Friday, February fourth," said my employer. "Make a note of it, Bella.... How long have you known the woman?"

"About a year. She brought a letter from Mrs. Applewhite recommending her as a reducer."

"Who's Mrs. Applewhite?"

"Oh, she was my most intimate friend at that time, but we've quarrelled since. She's just a woman that you meet in hotels."

"Mrs. Bracker was a reducer?" prompted Mme. Storey.

"Yes, she had a new idea. No fasting, no drugs. She just demonstrated slimness."

"Eh?" said Mme. Storey, running up her eyebrows.

"Will-power," said Mrs. Julian.

"Hers or yours?"

"Oh, hers entirely. That's what I paid her for. I had nothing to do but sit and relax."

"I see."

"Seemed so modest and sensible," Mrs. Julian went on. "And you gotta admit her methods had been successful in her own case. She used to weigh 176 pounds. That little woman. Showed me photographs of herself step by step. She took off 68 pounds without denying herself a thing!"

"Did you see her eating everything?"

"No. She never took her meals here."

"I thought not. Go on."

"It was lovely to be able to eat as much as I wanted," said Mrs. Julian innocently. "I do enjoy my meals so. And I lost weight all the time!" She sprang up, gave her skirts a flirt in front of the mirror, and looked at herself coyly over her shoulder. "You gotta admit, Rosika, that I'm ever so much slenderer than I was last year."

"Optimist!" murmured Mme. Storey under her breath. "How much money have you given her?" she asked aloud.

"Latterly it's been five hundred a week. She claimed to be giving me her entire time. She didn't have to be with me, she said. She could sit in her own room and concentrate on my slenderness. She showed me the scales every week."

"Doctored," said Mme. Storey. "You hadn't stopped paying her, had you? Why was she jealous of Ram Lal?"