Evans lowered the poker. “I was just about to bash Florian over the head.”
“Is that your idea of an accident?” I demanded sternly.
Evans shifted uncomfortably. “I thought it would look as though an intruder had murdered Florian. I was going to empty his wallet and all that sort of thing.”
“Do you want the police to investigate?”
He looked at the floor. “Well, no. But I’ve run out of ideas.”
I examined Florian and determined that he was indeed in a thorough alcoholic sleep, and not likely to be revived by anything short of an earthquake. I spoke in normal tones. “Right before you, Evans, you have the instrument for an ideal accident.”
He looked about helplessly. “I don’t see what you mean, Henry.”
“The gas heater,” I explained patiently. And far in the back of my mind, the question arose as to what a gas heater was doing in a home of this sort. “We simply extinguish the flame of the heater. In a few hours Florian should be dead. The police will assume that Florian either forgot to light the heater or that it went out by itself.”
Evans looked at me with admiration. “You’re really much cleverer than I am, Henry. I’m not practical at all. Are you the other murderer?”
I was aghast. “Didn’t you know?”
He shook his head. “I just tossed a coin. I’ve always been pretty lucky.”
It was incredible! He could have ruined everything if he’d murdered me instead.
“Henry,” Evans asked. “How did you know that I was the other murderer?”
“Simple. I merely ferreted out the hotel at which you were staying. The Fraidlie House is a building in a complete state of disintegration. Therefore it followed that you have no money for better accommodations. Circumstances forced you to choose that particular residence.”
Evans thought about that. “But I do have money. Four hundred thousand or so.”
I swallowed. “But that hotel...?”
“It’s in the center of the art colony,” Evans said. “I wanted to be near the people I love.”
“But when what is your motive for killing.”
“Money, of course.”
“But you already have four hundred thousand.”
“It isn’t exactly for myself. I want to erect an arts building in Minneapolis. The Evans Art Center. That would require at least a million dollars and I don’t have that much.”
I sighed and then looked about the room. “Wipe your fingerprints from that poker and put it back. And also remove any other prints you may have left in the room.”
I watched him go about with a handkerchief and he raised quite a bit of dust as he wiped here and there.
When he was through, I extinguished the flame of the heater. The gas began to hiss into the room. “Let’s go,” I said.
Evans used his handkerchief to pick up the phone.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
He seemed surprised at the tone of my voice. “I’m calling a taxi.”
I closed my eyes. He was pretty pathetic. “I’ll drive you,” I said.
On the lake drive, with Florian’s home a good two miles behind us, I felt more at ease. “How did you get Schaller to electrocute himself in his tub?”
“I visited him one night and we had a few drinks. I put something into one of his and when he passed out, I undressed him and put him in his tub. I filled it, and then dropped in the radio.”
That was about the way I had figured it. “But you blundered when you shot Wentworth. If the police had discovered that he was afraid of firearms you could have ruined everything.”
“I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “But I’m not too good at this sort of thing.”
“How did you manage to drop that rivet on Naison’s head? Surely you didn’t climb up on the scaffolding and...?”
“No. I put a wallet on the sidewalk in front of the building being erected. When Naison came along he bent down to pick it up. At that point I shot a rivet from a slingshot and hit him on the top of the head. To the police it looked as though the thing had fallen from the building.”
I had to admit that was ingenious. “And I suppose you altered the steering mechanism on Terwilliger’s car so that he would have his accident?”
Evans shook his head. “No. Didn’t you?”
I rubbed my jaw. “That could have been an authentic accident. I suppose you struck Llewellyn over the head and then put his body on those railroad tracks?”
Evans looked at me. “No.”
We were silent for a while, and then Evans said, “Of course you pushed Dodsworth off his dock?”
“No.”
We drove on for half a mile.
“Dodsworth was the last to go, besides Florian, I mean,” Evans said. “And so if you didn’t... and I didn’t...?”
I remembered the dust Evans had raised when he was wiping his fingerprints off various surfaces. I spoke more or less to myself. “One does not have a dusty house when one has four servants.”
Evans nodded slowly. “If one still has four servants.”
I also remembered the dark servants’ quarters over the garage. And it had been only ten o’clock. And the gas heater — certainly out of place in an extremely opulent home.
After awhile, Evans voiced our mutual discovery. “So Florian got rid of Terwilliger, Llewellyn, and Dodsworth. Evidently he needed the fund too.”
And what now? I thought.
Evans was thinking of that too. “I suppose I’ll have to kill you,” he said. “I really regret that, Henry, but I do think that Minneapolis needs an art center.”
We were in the traffic of the avenue now. Yes, I thought, I would have to kill Evans, unless...
It was ridiculous... but still... considering Evans’ mental equipment...
“Evans,” I said. “I don’t believe it’ll be necessary for each of us to try to kill the other.”
“Really?” he asked hopefully.
I nodded. “We can split the fund.”
“But that’s impossible. Florian said our charter terms were absolutely unbreakable.”
“There is another way. I will write a suicide note and leave it, along with my coat perhaps, on a conveniently high bridge. The police will assume that I jumped off, was drowned, and that my body floated out into the lake.”
Evans considered that. “And then when I inherit the fund, I split it with you?”
“Well, not exactly. You see I will have to disappear. Leave the country, as a matter of fact. It would be inconvenient and dangerous to our plan for me to reappear for my share. I have a much better idea.”
Evans waited expectantly.
“You say that you have some four hundred thousand dollars. Why not convert that into cash, give it to me, and then I will disappear. You will inherit the entire fund.”
Evans looked vaguely dubious.
“I’m perfectly willing to settle for four hundred thousand,” I said. “Even though my honest share should be half a million. You may consider the extra hundred thousand my contribution to your art center.”
Evans beamed. “That’s awfully decent of you, Henry. I’ll name one of the galleries in your honor.”
“Small bills, please,” I said. “But remember that this is our little secret. Don’t tell your lawyers why you’re converting your assets to cash.”
“Of course not,” Evans said stiffly. “Do you think I’m a fool?”
It took Evans two months to make the conversion to cash. I accepted the money, arranged my suicide, and moved to Mexico.
Evans inherited the fund, but I’m afraid that he was in for a bit of a shock.
Really, it is criminal how little the government left poor Evans. Something in the neighborhood of two hundred thousand, I believe.
And I, of course, had four hundred thousand intact.
Dead men do not pay inheritance taxes.