Merlini put in his oar. “How much would this underwater vacuum cleaner of yours cost to build, Mr. Brooke?”
“Underwater vacuum — who has been describing the device, may I ask?” He looked at Merlini coldly.
“Come off it, Brooke,” Gavigan said. “This is a homicide investigation. We’re going to know a lot more than that before we’re through. And we don’t tell the reporters everything. Answer the question.”
Brooke protested, “I fail to see what connection—”
“Linda Skelton was thinking about paying for it, wasn’t she?”
“She was, yes. But—”
“How much would it cost, Mr. Brooke?” insisted Merlini impatiently.
Ira’s bright eyes caught Merlini’s, then dropped. His voice was suddenly expressionless and flat. “About $200,000.”
“Expensive gadget, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But its use will make it possible to get at many previously inaccessible wrecks—$200,000 is only a drop in the bucket if you salvage the cargo of even one Spanish galleon.”
“Eight million dollars would be a 4,000 percent return on the investment. That what you mean?”
“That’s the general idea, yes.”
The Inspector tried out a question.
“How did you happen to pick Linda Skelton to be your good fairy?”
Ira sat up indignantly.
“If you’re insinuating, Inspector, that the Brooke Suction Salvage Device is a gold brick—”
“I’ll reword the question,” Gavigan said patiently, “But I still want an answer. How did you happen to—”
“Floyd,” Brooke said, giving in. “He came to me. Said he had a salvage job that would be an excellent tryout for my device. He said his sister would finance the apparatus.”
“The Hussar?”
“The Hussar? I don’t know. That hasn’t been proved. There is a wreck out there in the river. It may be the Hussar. We won’t know for certain until we actually get at it.”
“Aren’t spirit messages an odd way to locate and gather data on the condition of a sunken wreck prior to salvaging? Or do you usually do it that way?”
“The hulk was not located in that way,” Brooke contradicted sharply. “Madame Rappourt’s messages have only supplemented and amplified Floyd’s soundings. Each one that we’ve so far been able to check has been verified in every detail. I can’t explain that.”
“I wish you could.” Gavigan thought a moment and then added shortly, “That’s all.”
Brooke got to his feet, grinned cheerfully, said, “Thank you” almost too politely and walked briskly out.
“I don’t like his face,” Gavigan said looking after him. “Grins too much.”
“Odd name, too,” Merlini commented.
“Name?”
“Yes. Ira means calm. Ira Brooke. Calm or still waters. You know about them. They run deep. Who’s next?”
“Rappourt. Quinn, tell Muller to get her. Then Miss Verrill, and Lamb again, in that order.”
When Quinn opened the door, Gavigan called, “Hey Doc!”
“I’m coming. Hold your horses.” Hesse hurried in from across the hall, puffing clouds of tobacco smoke. “The appearance of the body is quite consistent with cyanide poisoning. How soon can I have the body for tests?”
“Now. Get it started. And look into this, too.” He presented Hesse with the hail-polish bottle. “Did you and Gail figure out a time of death?”
“Yes, and don’t howl about it either. A six-hour interval is the best I can do. Probably not before one o’clock yesterday or later than 6. Damn little to go on at this late date except state of rigor, and that can vary like hell. You say she was seen alive last at 2:30. That cuts it down some. If you split the difference you’ll probably come close.”
Inspector Gavigan didn’t seem overjoyed. “Just about what I expected,” he said gruffly. “A whole stack of alibis. All right, get the body started and have them phone the quantitative-test results as soon as possible, or quicker. You stick around a few minutes. Gail, you wait downstairs.”
Then, speaking to no one in particular, he went on, “Lamb and Watrous were in town from 11 to 6, Miss Verrill from 2:30 to 8:30”—he looked across at Merlini—“She must have been with you at the Garden about the time Linda died. Gail was in his office, Brooke and Rappourt together on the houseboat all afternoon. The Hendersons—” He eyed Malloy who had returned with Hesse. “What did they say?”
“They were both over at the Doctor’s cottage from just after lunch until nearly 5, cleaning the place up.”
“Leaving Arnold,” Gavigan finished, “who admits he was in the house — with Linda. But I wish I knew—”
His voice trailed off reflectively; and Merlini said, “Mind reading thrown in free. You wish you knew when Mr. X arrived on the island and where Floyd was.” Gavigan looked up as if half expecting the answers. Merlini added, “So do I.”
Malloy went forward to answer a knock at the door, spoke briefly to Detective Muller outside, and then addressed Gavigan.
“Rappourt’s still in bed. Muller told her to snap out of it. In the meantime, here’s Miss Verrill.”
He stepped aside and Sigrid came in. She stopped just across the threshold, glanced about, instantly picked out the Inspector as the person in authority, and moved toward the chair that faced him. She wore a blue-corduroy housecoat and she moved with a dancer’s springy, alert walk. The attention she got from the assembled males was complete. She sat down, looked gravely at Gavigan, and waited.
“Miss Verrill,” he began briskly, “you ate lunch with Arnold, Rappourt, Lamb, and Miss Skelton yesterday on the terrace. You left for town directly afterward at 2:30, and you saw Miss Skelton for the last time, talking to Madame Rappourt, as you came down the stairs. She went up to her room, and Rappourt went with you and Lamb to the boathouse. Henderson dropped Rappourt off at the houseboat, where Brooke was working, and took you and Lamb on in to town. That all correct?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do in town?”
“I went directly to Merlini’s shop. He wasn’t there. I was told he was probably at Madison Square Garden. I went there and found him.”
“You were afraid of something. What was it? Murder?”
Her blue eyes widened a bit. “No. Rappourt. I wanted Merlini to see one of her séances and tell us what the catch was.”
“Us?”
“Arnold and myself — and Dr. Gail. I’m afraid we’re not too open-minded. Rappourt’s phenomena are ever so convincing, but it won’t quite go down. I was brought up with a circus, for one thing; and I’ve known a few magicians, a lot of grifters, freaks, and spielers. I don’t believe quite everything I see and hear. Arnold and I have been trying to catch her out in an amateur way. With no luck at all. Yesterday morning when she was at breakfast we even searched her room. Results nil. That was when I told Arnold I was going to get Merlini. I should have done it before. I knew that he could trip her up for us if anyone could.”
“What made you think she’d have him around?”
“She couldn’t help herself. I planned to have him come without notice. If Rappourt objected, we’d point out to Linda that only a fraud would fear exposure — and Rappourt’s clever enough to see the point. She’d talked last night’s séance up too much. She was out to impress Linda, and she’d gone too far to back out. She’d have had to go through with it.”
“What was she after?”
“Linda’s money.”
“Oh. Not the Hussar gold?”
“I don’t know. I think perhaps that was a smoke screen. I’d almost believe the wreck story if it wasn’t for the spirit messages. I shy at that.”