“She was twenty-nine, but quite plump.”
Sir James nodded. “Then, for the sake of argument, let’s say the sixteen-second run was what she made.” He went to the side of the bed. “Therefore, within sixteen seconds he had to place the gun in the victim’s hand – say four seconds. Then he had to traverse the distance from the bed to the door.” Sir James turned to Jordon. “Give it a try, will you, old man? I’ll keep your time.”
“Of course.” Jordon moved to the side of the bed.
Sir James examined his watch. “Go!”
Jordon ran to the door and opened it, stepped through, and let the door close behind him. He opened the door and looked through. “How did I do?”
Sir James nodded. “Three seconds.” He turned to Sims-Danton. “Do we have the hallway outside the bedroom plotted? I would like to time a run from Mrs Griever’s door to Mr Griever’s door.”
Sims-Danton turned again to his notebook. “We don’t have it plotted, but tests by the police on the scene made the run at about four seconds, which includes opening his bedroom door, entering, and closing the door.” The Major closed the notebook and smiled at Sir James.
“Very well.” Sir James nodded and turned back to the bed. “Very well. On the sixteen-second run, that leaves only five seconds for Mr Griever to do whatever it was that he did to effect his exit. That would leave no time either to use or dispose of batteries, wires, and the like.” Sir James opened the front of the night stand, stooped, and looked inside. He then stood, looked at the back of the night stand, and carefully traced the wire to the solenoid lock. When he was satisfied, he turned and faced the room. “The insulation along the entire length is undisturbed, and I saw no discreet little holes in the wall, which would appear to preclude any sort of timing mechanism prepared in advance.” He rubbed his chin. “Hence, to my mind, it seems that whatever was used should still be in the room.”
Wallace Baines cleared his throat. “Sir James, it really is bad form to work against your own candidate. If you should guess the method, Mr Griever would be disqualified for admission. I would think that would cause bad feeling between you.”
The other members nodded and Sims-Danton stepped forward. “I agree.”
Nathan Griever held out his hands and grinned. “Please, gentlemen. I insist that Jim have his go at it. I’m not worried.” He turned to Sir James. “Go ahead, old boy. Give it your best shot.”
Sir James shrugged and walked to the side of the bed, then turned to the night stand and placed his finger on the push button. He tried it several times and listened as the solenoid energized and clicked back the bolt. Removing his finger from the button, he looked at the articles on the night stand, then lifted up the glass half filled with whiskey and water. He sniffed at it, replaced it, then opened several of the plastic containers of pills, uncapped the three plastic nasal-spray bottles, and unscrewed the tops on a bottle of nose drops and a bottle of eye drops. Then, replacing all the caps, he again lifted the glass of whiskey and water. He turned to Sims-Danton. “Tell me, did the police laboratory find anything unusual in any of these containers?”
Sims-Danton frowned. “Surely, Sir James, you don’t suspect that the victim was poisoned.”
Sir James looked back at the glass. “Oh.” He nodded and replaced the glass. “Of course not. How silly of me.” He turned to Nathan. “Well, Nate, it looks as though you’re a member of Slaughterhouse. We all seem to be baffled. Please accept my congratulations.”
Nathan shook the hands that were extended toward him, his face wreathed in smiles. “Thank you. Should I demonstrate now?”
Sims-Danton patted his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded. “Please do.”
Nathan walked to the side of the bed. “I suppose that all I have to do is to account for those five seconds?”
Sims-Danton replaced his handkerchief. “That is correct.”
Nathan nodded. “Jim, old boy, if you would time what I do, I’d like someone else to time how long the lock on the door is open.”
Sims-Danton pushed back his sleeve, uncovering the watch on his left wrist. “Any time, Mr Griever.”
Nathan smiled, rubbed his hands together, and nodded. “Go!” Nathan turned from the bed, uncapped the bottle of nose drops, put the end of the dropper into the water and whiskey, and sucked up barely enough to fill it past the tapered tip. Then he held the dropper over the push button, squeezed out four drops, and replaced the cap on the bottle as the liquid seeped into the space between the button and case, and shorted out the circuit. Nathan replaced the bottle as the solenoid buzzed and clicked open. “Of course the timing might be a bit off since I am using a different push button,” he said.
A moment later the buzzing stopped and the bolt shot back out. Sims-Danton looked up from his watch. “Seven seconds. That would enable him to get through the door with time to spare.”
Sir James nodded. “I have five seconds on the nose, Nate. Bravo! That accounts for the missing time, lets you absent the premises, baffles the police – and gets you into Slaughterhouse.”
Nathan beamed. “You see, when my wife was in the hospital, I was able to try out a variety of liquids and numbers of drops. As chance would have it, four drops of her favorite drink did the trick. All I had to do was wait for the maid to be settled down in the kitchen. My wife always had a drink on the night stand.”
Jordon nodded. “Excellent.”
“Four drops is just enough to short out the push button. Between the short, evaporation opens the circuit in just a little-”
Malcolm Jordon slapped Nathan on the back, took his elbow, and steered him toward the door. “Come, we must celebrate!”
Stepany, Humpheries, and Baines followed the pair through the door and down the stairs.
Sir James turned to his companion. “I almost muffed it, didn’t I, Lieutenant Danton?”
Danton nodded as he removed his handlebar moustache. “You had me worried, Inspector Cockeral, no doubt about that.”
Cockeral nodded. “Of course your laboratory found nose drops in the glass and whiskey in the nose drops.”
“Yes. As soon as we got the results, we knew how he had done it. The problem was getting him to admit it. The District Attorney was certain he’d never be able to convince a jury that Nathan Griever could be that imaginative. The defense could easily produce a thousand bits of evidence that his client is about as sharp as a pound of wet silage.”
“Still, it is rather imaginative.”
Danton nodded. “Twenty-three million dollars can mother a lot of invention.”
Cockeral nodded his head toward the door. “What happens to him now?”
“First, a party welcoming him to the club. Then, an epic pub crawl will begin that will end with his delivery back at the Los Angeles airport, where he will be arrested.”
Cockeral shook his head. “Pity. The fellow did so want to belong.”
“Oh, he’ll belong – and wait till he gets a load of his new clubhouse.” Danton turned and walked toward the door. Cockeral followed.
“You must have been awfully certain he would fall for your charade.”
Danton smiled. “I studied Nathan Griever very carefully. He’s nothing but a small-time grifter who only made one clever score in his entire life. Can you imagine how frustrated he must have felt not being able to tell his story? All we did was provide an audience worthy of his confidence.”
“Danton, what about the strange amount for the initiation fee? The $13,107.17?”
Danton shrugged. “Proposition Thirteen.”
“Eh?”
“Proposition Thirteen. Money is very, very tight, and the only way I could get my superiors to go along with this was if it didn’t cost us anything. $13,107.17 was the exact cost of the charade. We could have gotten more from him, of course, but it wouldn’t have been sporting to make profit, don’t you agree?”