“3. He possessed match-packets even more distinctive than logic had indicated! For his secretary that same day, when I approved vocally of Finch’s tobacco, promised to have the tobacconist Finch patronized send me some — with, she took the liberty of adding, Finch’s compliments! The tobacconist, Pierre of Fifth Avenue, eventually delivered a pound; and with it came a box of match-packets with my name printed on each one! Pierre was even kind enough to add in his note that this was his usual custom. If he sent match-packets with all deliveries of tobacco to his customers, and mine had come with my name printed on the covers of the packets, and this was Pierre’s usual procedure, then obviously Finch possessed numerous match-packets with his name on them! Not a monogram, not an insignia, but his name in full. No wonder he was worried. No wonder he snatched that empty packet away. He had every reason to believe that Andrea had seen the name Grosvenor Finch on its cover.”
“Good Lord,” exclaimed Pollinger; he threw up his hands.
“4. The criminal had motive against both Gimball and Mrs. Wilson. This followed as a result of the criminal’s learning about Gimball’s double life, which I shall come to in a moment. But, knowing this, it is clear that anyone from the Gimball side of the fence would have reason to wish the death of Gimball, the author of Jessica’s shame, and might seek to revenge himself on Lucy, the living symbol of Gimball’s double life. And Finch was very close to Jessica.
“5. The writing implement? Curious note. The same day I visited Finch’s office he offered me a cheque as a retainer for investigating the crime for the National Life. Before my eyes he wrote on that cheque with a fountain-pen I saw him take from his pocket. When he showed me the cheque the only thing in script was his signature written in green ink. Green ink! Distinctive; not at all usual. He could not afford to take the chance of writing the note on the scene of the crime in that ink. So, he had to use other means. Unquestionably, he had the pen with him. Now that he’s dead, we shall never know the exact truth about how he was dressed that night, but the probabilities are that he rolled his trousers up and slipped a woman’s dress over himself as he was, fully dressed. The coat he put on would conceal the neckline. That’s how he came to have matches and his pipe with him — they must have been in the pocket of the male clothing beneath the feminine outer attire.
“6. Certainly he came from the Gimball side of the fence. He had known both the Gimball and Borden families intimately for years.
“7. That he had a tender feeling for Andrea is unquestionable — we’ve had repeated evidences of it from his actions. As for Andrea’s mother, well, there are no specific facts to base the opinion on, but his solicitude for her, his constant attendance on her since Gimball’s death, were clear enough implications of a fondness that may have been even more.”
“That’s true, I think,” said Andrea in a low voice. “I’m sure he — he was in love with her. From ’way back. He was a bachelor, of course. Mother’s often told me that he never married because she married my father — my real father, Richard Paine Monstelle. And when father died and mother married Joe...”
“Love for your mother was the only plausible reason I could ascribe to Finch as the murderer of your stepfather, Andrea. Discovering that Gimball had betrayed your mother into an illegal marriage, that he was spending most of his time with another woman in another city, that his own sacrifice had been in vain, Finch decided to kill your mother’s betrayer.
“8. The criminal was right-handed, or at least used his right hand in striking the lethal blow. This was rather indeterminate in adapting Finch to the complete portrait, but in the light of the overwhelming evidence of the other eight points, it was unimportant. At least it was possible for Finch to have used his right hand.
“9. The last point and in many ways the most important. That Finch knew of the change of beneficiary of the million-dollar policy. The point was simply resolved. Who knew of this change of beneficiary? Two persons. One was Gimball himself. But Gimball had told no one; I’ve been over that ground already. The other was Finch. Finch, and Finch alone of the possible murderers, had known of the beneficiary change before the crime.”
Ellery smoked thoughtfully. “You know, this last point wasn’t all plain sailing. It presented certain difficulties of theory. Access to the application and the policies was the only way in which someone could have discovered the clue to Gimball’s double life. But from the time of the change until Gimball deposited the sealed envelope with Bill, only the insurance companies involved had access to the policies. We can eliminate the insurance-company employees who performed the clerical work involved on the ground of sheer improbability. But we cannot eliminate Finch, who on his own confession was aware of the change, having been notified by his company in his capacity as personal ‘broker’ for Gimball that an application for change-of-beneficiary had been received.
“The problem that naturally arises is: Despite Finch’s protestations to the contrary, did he really tell someone else of the change of beneficiary, thus placing another person in possession of the vital clue? I will ignore the fact that Finch, in insisting that he did not, made the most damaging statement possible under the circumstances, since he was virtually naming himself, and himself alone, as the sole possessor of the vital knowledge. Had he been conscious of the implications, he certainly would have managed to tell someone else, just to spread the possibilities of guilt.
“But even if you choose not to believe him, whom could he theoretically have told? A woman? Mrs. Gimball — the then Mrs. Gimball, for example? But as a woman she is eliminated from suspicion; the criminal was a man. Had she told another woman in turn, this other woman would be eliminated for the same reason. Had she told another man, or had Finch told another man directly, then we merely have to see if that man, or any man involved in the case, fits the characteristics of the criminal as we have now developed them. Well, what happens? There is no man except Finch who fits those characteristics completely. So, by a circuitous route, we arrive at the conclusion that Finch told no one; or if he did, his telling had no bearing on the murder as it subsequently developed.
“What followed I have already reconstructed: his suspicions, his probable secret visit to Philadelphia, his discovery of the background, his discovery of Halfway House, his plan for the crime and frame-up, and so on.”
“The masquerade, of course,” muttered Pollinger, “was necessary.”
“Oh, yes. If Lucy was to seem to have committed the crime, there must be evidence that a woman drove her coupé. The veil, of course, he had to use to mask his masculine features, and naturally he couldn’t speak to the garageman that evening because his voice would have given the masquerade away. As I pointed out once before, he deliberately stopped for gas there to leave an open trail to Lucy! Not being a lawyer, he didn’t realize how flimsily circumstantial a case he was weaving about her; if he hadn’t luckily found that paper-cutter and Lucy hadn’t handled it the night before in her home I don’t doubt that she would have been acquitted.”
“Without the fingerprint evidence I should have thrown the case out at the first motion for dismissal by defense counsel,” said the Judge, shaking his head. “As a matter of fact, even with that evidence the case was weak — I beg your pardon, Paul, but I think you realize that, too. It was a poor jury, I’m afraid. It all came down to a matter of believing Mrs. Wilson, and why they didn’t believe her story I don’t know to this day.”