“Don't you worry a minute, Mr. Thompson. We'll get those birds yet. I was pretty sure they had something to do with it, all the time. You've got the best man in the department on the job.”
He put on his derby hat with a flourish and trotted out the door. I recalled that I had told Mary I would see her, so I dismissed the stenographers and locked up the office. It was a perfect morning, with all the warm spicy perfumes of Indian summer. Overhead, a blue sky was filled with tumbled clouds of snowy whiteness. The rain of the night before was still on the grass and the trees, giving a dewy fragrance to the air that was invigorating.
Now that I had found a possible solution to the tragedy, I was filled with enthusiasm. I felt that if I could bring Jim's murderers to trial, I would conduct such a case for the prosecution as would send them up for life. They had succeeded in carrying out their threats, but I would make them pay for it.
I stopped in front of Mary's house and honked the horn. She opened the door and came quickly to the car. The tragic news of the night before had taken the laughter out of her eyes and the buoyancy from her step.
“I could cry my eyes out, Bupps,” she said as she climbed into the car.
“Don't do it, or I'll start, too,” I responded, a lump coming in my throat.
“How did it happen?” she asked, as we drove away. “The papers gave a long account, but said it was an accident.”
“Zalnitch did it, Mary. At least, I'm almost sure it was he.” I told her what I had learned during the morning, and as I talked, I finally touched on Frank Woods' strange words of the night before.
“You don't think he had anything to do with it, do you, Bupps?”
“No,” I said. “I did think so, but I have changed my mind since this morning. I suppose it was just his grief that made him act so queerly.”
“He does love Helen, Bupps,” Mary murmured. “Helen got quite confidential while she was staying with me, and the things she told me about Woods made me see he was really in love with her.”
“Yes, I suppose he does love her,” I responded, “but he had no right to take her away from Jim.”
“It's the man who takes a woman, whether he has the right or not, that wins,” responded Mary seriously.
I looked at her and wondered whether she was growing the least bit personal. She was looking straight ahead, with an unsmiling gaze. As I glanced at her, there beside me, with the breeze blowing wisps of golden hair around her temples, I got panic-stricken.
“Mary—” I began.
“Watch where you are going, Bupps!”
I fastened my eyes on the street ahead, but only for an instant. With Jim gone, I was going to be fearfully lonesome. I glanced at her again.
“Mary, I know this isn't the right time or place, but—”
“Let's go to the hospital and find out about Helen,” she interposed quickly. She knew we were going there all the time. The mention of Helen brought me back to earth with a snap, and made me realize I had no business talking about love at such a time. Yet never in my life did I feel more like telling Mary how much I wanted her.
We had no sooner entered the cool hall of St. Mary's than the little interne with glasses, whom I had seen the night before, came hurrying up to me.
“Mr. Thompson, we have been telephoning every place for you.”
My heart jumped to my throat. “Is Mrs. Felderson—-?”
“No,” he responded, “Mrs. Felderson is still unconscious. It is Mr. Felderson. The coroner has made an important discovery.”
I waved for Mary to stay where she was and hurried down-stairs, where Jim's body lay. It had not been moved before the coroner's inquest. The room was dark and several people were gathered around the inquest table. All eyes were turned on me as I entered the room. A portly man detached himself from the group and came toward me.
“Mr. Thompson?”
“Yes.”
“I am the coroner. In making my inquest, I find that death was not due to the automobile smash-up. Mr. Felderson was shot through the head, from behind. We have rendered a verdict of murder.”
CHAPTER SEVEN. I TURN DETECTIVE
Murdered! For a moment I was stupefied by the doctor's revelation, and then, as he went on to describe the course of the bullet, and certain technical aspects of the case, a sudden rush of thankfulness came over me. Let me explain! The coroner had given a verdict of murder by person or persons unknown. From the first moment I heard of the accident I was certain there was something sinister about it, but had little on which to base my belief. The coroner's verdict substantiated my suspicions and gave me a chance to work in the open; to bring into court, if possible, the people I suspected.
Murder by person or persons unknown? I knew the persons: Zalnitch, Metzger, Schreiber. They must have recognized the car as it came toward them and taken a shot as they went by. My thoughts were recalled from their wanderings by an unexpected sentence of the coroner's. I had been following him vaguely, but now my attention was riveted.
“One could not be sure, because of the varied course that bullets take through the body, but the shot seems to have been fired from above and behind. Unless it were otherwise proved, I'd strongly suspect that the murderer had fired the shot from the back seat of the car.”
“Of course that is impossible,” I said, “because in that case the murderer would have been in the accident.”
“I had the same idea,” he said slowly, giving me a searching look.
Helen!
I felt suddenly sick and faint. I wanted air, sunlight; to get away from that darkened room and those piercing eyes that seemed to read my thoughts. I thanked him for letting me know what he had discovered, and hurriedly excused myself.
Helen! The blood pounded through my temples.
God! No!
Wilful, spoiled woman, if you will, ready to leave her husband without thought of the consequences, to go with another man; but his premeditated murderer? A thousand times, no!
I felt that with the unworthy suspicion in my mind, I could not face Mary, and I waited a moment at the bottom of the stairs before going up to meet her. There were two questions that had to be answered. Was Helen in the back seat when the car left Mary's the evening before; and had Jim told Helen about the proofs he had of Woods' irregularities? Mary was probably there when Helen and Jim left, and could answer both questions.
I wiped the perspiration from my forehead and assuming as calm an air as possible, went up-stairs. Mary was chatting with the little interne, but as soon as she saw my face, she hurried toward me.
“You look as though you'd seen a ghost. What was it, Bupps?”