He paused a moment for Gunnerson to object, but when the big grizzle-headed man merely rubbed his head, Ross went on.
“As far as that goes, if her object was to kill Neeley, she wouldn’t care if the sucker had money or not. Anyone she could pick up in the bar, looking young and stupid and preferably drunk as a skunk, would do. Especially someone young enough to panic in a rough situation, like being caught in bed by an irate husband. In fact, considering it, on that basis it could be a pure accident that Dupaul was the sucker. It could have been anyone she picked up in the bar who fit the general description.”
“And this stranger would accidentally shoot Neeley with Dupaul’s own twenty-two-caliber pistol?” Gunnerson said sarcastically.
“I forgot about that,” Ross said and smiled, abashed. “Anyway, that argument wouldn’t have held much water in any event. Neeley would have picked the mark — the sucker — and it would have been a man with money. And he would have been in for a shock if he opened the door to the bedroom and saw a complete stranger in bed. No. The only conclusion we can come to—”
“If Dupaul wasn’t giving us drunken dreams. If Dupaul was telling the truth.”
“—since Dupaul is telling the truth, is that Neeley thought they were working the old chicken-bladder swindle on the boy, but that the woman had other ideas. She intended to use Dupaul to kill Neeley and arranged to set him up as target for tonight all the way. Gun included.” He smiled at Gunnerson brightly. “How does that sound?”
“Like the ravings of a tortured mind. How did she get her hands on Dupaul’s gun?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Ross said cheerfully. “Next?”
“Why didn’t Neeley blow the whistle on her during the trial? After all, the lady tried to have his head blown off, which is scarcely a nice thing for strangers to do, let alone partners. Why not put the so-and-so where she belongs? Behind bars for attempted murder?”
“And end up behind bars himself for attempted blackmail? Because that’s what the swindle amounts to, and that’s what would have happened. No,” Ross said and shook his head. “Neeley was in the bind. He couldn’t pull the rug out from under the woman without accusing himself. Which explains the story he came up with.”
There were several moments of silence as the two men contemplated the straw man they had constructed.
“Well,” Gunnerson said thoughtfully at last, “it makes a logical story, I suppose, although I’m sure that given enough time and a little mental effort I could probably come up with six different theories that would fit the facts as well as the one you’ve just dreamed up—”
Ross said, “Give me just one.”
“You haven’t given me the time. And I keep coming back to that old refrain — why did our friend Grace take that suitcase?”
“As I explained before,” Ross said patiently, “to further implicate Dupaul by making any story he told look like a fabrication. He was bound to tell how the husband came in with a suitcase and dropped it. By making it appear there was no suitcase, she puts young Dupaul more in the soup. Which is what she wants. What she does not want is for the jury to believe Dupaul and start looking for her.”
“And I still say, why take the suitcase?” Gunnerson said stubbornly. “Why take the chance of being seen on the street with it? All she had to do was stuff it into a closet, shove it way back on a rear shelf. What would be so unusual about the police finding a suitcase in an apartment? What would it have proved? Certainly not Dupaul’s story; it certainly wouldn’t have helped his case a hell of a lot. Unless—”
Gunnerson suddenly paused.
Ross said, “Unless what?”
“The suitcase must have contained something she wanted,” Gunnerson said slowly. “She didn’t take it to hurt Dupaul; she took it because she wanted it. Maybe it had her things in it. For a getaway.”
“No,” Ross said. “I’ll buy her taking the suitcase for itself, but not for a getaway. The swindle, in Neeley’s mind, was just beginning. They were a long way from getting their hands on the money. Neeley would have been suspicious if he were carrying a suitcase filled with her things, and there was certainly no reason for him to fill it with things of his own. No, the suitcase almost certainly had to be empty.”
“So, even more, why would she run out carrying an empty suitcase?” Gunnerson demanded. “Hell, that makes even less sense!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ross said slowly. He smiled. “You know, Mike, you and I complicate things entirely too much. She took the suitcase for the very simple reason that it belonged to her. Neeley said in court he never owned a suitcase, which would have been an exceptionally stupid statement if it weren’t true. Therefore the suitcase belonged to the elusive Grace, and the reason she had to take it away was because it would have led to her identification. It probably had her initials on it, or something of that nature.”
Gunnerson looked at him with mock admiration.
“Mr. Ross, as they say in Arkansas, you are purely a genius! It’s wonderful the way you manage to find explanations for everything you want to fit into one of your theories.”
“You have a better explanation?”
“Well, no,” Gunnerson said, “but that’s not the problem. The problem is to prove your explanation.”
Ross grinned at him.
“That’s your problem, not mine.” His smile faded. “Which won’t be too easy after eight years. And after nothing was dug up on the woman even at that time to help Billy Dupaul prove his story.”
“Well,” Gunnerson said, serious now, “facts are the one thing that don’t age and don’t erode. They didn’t find the woman when the trail was fresh for the simple reason that they didn’t look for her. They didn’t believe she existed. Now us, we believe she exists, don’t we? Sure we do. You just told us she did. Therefore we look.”
“Where?”
“An excellent question,” Gunnerson said. “Actually, I have a few ideas just based on our discussion here today. And that transcript you haven’t bothered to read, of course.”
“There’s one more thing for us to remember,” Ross said slowly. “It may be true that Neeley couldn’t denounce the woman in court, but I seriously doubt that he ever forgot or forgave what she did to him. Maybe the police didn’t look for her very hard, but I’ll bet he did.”
“If she existed, I’m sure he did, too,” Gunnerson said in bland agreement. “In fact, that already occurred to me. Nor do we know he didn’t find her. Which only means that if he could, we should be able to.”
“And if he looked and didn’t find her?”
“Then just hope we’re luckier.”
“I hope,” Ross said, and came to his feet. “Well, you have your target for tonight. Prove there is — or was — a woman who called herself Grace Neeley, at least for one night, and then find her.”
“That’s all?”
Ross grinned. “Then all you have to do is prove she was involved in the swindle and tried to kill Raymond Neeley. Which will get our client off the hook.”
Gunnerson’s tone was sarcastic.
“After which why don’t we prove the twenty-two pistol really wasn’t the one Dupaul brought down from Queensbury, but belonged to a long-lost grand-uncle, also named John Emerich, who lost it in a poker game one night out West to a dancehall hostess whose granddaughter happened to be named Grace?”
Ross laughed. “It would certainly help if you could!”