Dodging behind a cigar store Indian he waited for the right moment and slashed again with all his strength. He missed the man, but he struck the club. To his amazement it crumbled! Instantly he swung the brass bugle at his assailant's head, and the man sank dizzily to the floor.
Only then did Qwilleran see his face in full light. "David!" he shouted.
Outside the door a hollow voice roared, "Stop or I'll shoot!"
Qwilleran froze and slowly raised his hands. From the corner of his eye he could see a handgun; it was pointed at the crumpled figure on the floor.
"Edd! Where'd you get that?" he gasped.
"It was in my shopping bag," said the little man, reverting to his usual shy delivery. For the first time in his life he had projected his voice.
"Keep him covered while I call the police, Edd. He might come around and start trouble again."
As he spoke, Koko emerged from the shadows and stalked the supine figure on the floor. He was purring mightily as he rubbed his head against the sprawled legs. He climbed on the man's chest and sniffed nose to nose. The man stirred and opened his eyes, saw two blue eyes staring into his own, caught a whiff of Koko's aroma, and passed out again.
-Scene Ten-
Place: Back at Qwilleran's apartment over the garage
Time: Later the same day
NO ONE TALKED on the way back to Pickax. Eddington Smith was frozen to the wheel; Qwilleran was still aghast at his recent discovery; and Koko was asleep in the hamper, which was placed at the extreme rear of the station wagon, with all the windows open.
"Thanks for the ride, Edd. Thanks for the good lunch," Qwilleran said when they arrived. "Don't forget to report that missing book to the lawyer."
"Oh, I found it! It was on the wrong shelf!"
"Well, it was an exciting afternoon, to put it mildly."
" 'Excitement is the drunkenness of the spirit,' as somebody said."
"Uh... yes. I'm glad you didn't have to use your gun."
"I am, too," said Eddington. "I didn't have any bullets."
It was then that QwiIleran noticed Francesca's car in the drive, and it reminded him that his troubles were not over. He carried the hamper into the garage. "Sorry, Koko. I've got to keep you down here until Fran leaves. You're smeIling pretty ripe."
As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, his nose told him that Yum Yum also needed another shot of deodorant spray, and his eyes notified him that something was missing in the hallway. The Mackintosh coat of arms was not leaning against the wall in its accustomed place.
"HeIlo!" he called. "Fran, are you here?"
When there was no reply, he checked the premises. In the living room, lying in the middle of the floor, was the heavy circle of ornamental iron. In the cats' apartment he found Yum Yum huddled in a comer, with a pathetic expression in her violet-blue eyes. In his studio he found a red light glowing on the answer-box. He punched a button, listened to the message and then hurriedly called Francesca at home.
"Qwill, you'll never believe what happened!" she said. "I wanted to incorporate the Mackintosh thing in one of your radiator enclosures, so I went over to measure it and. see how it would look. I was halfway across the living room with it..."
"You lifted that piece of iron?"
"No, I was rolling it like a hoop when I accidentally stepped on a cat, and it screeched like seven devils. I was so spooked that I rolled the damn thing over my foot!"
"Yum Yum's screech could raise the dead," he said. "I hope you're not hurt, Fran."
"Hurt! I was wearing sandals and broke three toes! A police car took me to the hospital. Dad will pick up my car later. But Qwill," she wailed, "I won't be able to go to Chicago tomorrow!"
Qwilleran heaved a sigh of relief that activated the stitch in his side, but he extended sympathy and said all the right things. After that he went to the cats' apartment, picked up Yum Yum and stroked her smelly fur. "Sweetheart," he said, "did you trip her accidentally, or did you know what you were doing?"
Immediately he telephoned Polly at the library to remind her that he was driving her to the airport in the morning. "I may board the plane with you," he added. "I know some good restaurants in Chicago."
He sprayed the cats and was serving them a small shrimp cocktail and a dish of veal Stroganoff when he happened to glance out the front window. A police car was in the driveway, and the burly figure of the chief was stepping out of the passenger's door and approaching Francesca's car with a bunch of keys.
Qwilleran opened the window. "Brodie! Come on up for a cup of coffee!"
The chief was more amiable than he had been when questioned about the Fitch case. He clomped up the stairs saying, "I hope it's not the same witch's brew you gave me once before."
Qwilleran locked the cats in their apartment, set the automatic coffee maker for extra strong, and handed the chief a mug. "You're in a better frame of mind than the last time I saw you."
"Arrgh!" growled Brodie. "Is that a comment on the coffee or the state investigation?"
"The case is settled now, looks like. So maybe I can talk without getting in hot water. That evidence you found in the closet cracked it wide open. It was the kind of evidence they were hoping for."
"You don't need to repeat this, but... it was Koko who found it! First, he discovered how to get into the secret closet."
"What did I tell you? I told you we could use him on the force."
"I never did buy the Chipmunk theory, and when I opened the attach‚ case, I knew it was an inside job. I figured that David had killed Harley, rifled the safe, and stashed the money and jewels and murder weapon in the closet, intending to pick it up later. That was a lot of cash for a banker to have in the house."
Brodie nodded. "The bank examiners are in town. They'll find a few shortages, I'll bet."
"I didn't know who it was when he attacked me in the dark storage room, but I knew I was fighting for my life. He had killed twice, and I had found the evidence. After I stunned him with his grandfather's bugle, I began to collect my wits, and I thought, Why would David kill his twin? What possible motive? At that moment Koko walked over to him, purring like a helicopter. When he sniffed the guy's moustache, I said to myself, That's not David on the floor; that's Harley." Qwilleran paused and caressed his moustache with satisfaction. "Koko could smell the spirit gum! The moustache was false-glued on the guy's upper lip."
"YOW!" came a stentorian cheer from down the hall.
"He knows we're talking about him," said Qwilleran.
Brodie said, "So you think you know the motive now?"
"I'm pretty sure. From what I've heard on the Pickax grapevine I've constructed a scenario. See if you think it'll play:
"Scene I: Margaret Fitch, a manipulative mother, encourages David to marry Harley's girl, while Harley is serving time in prison for criminally negligent homicide.
"Scene 2: Harley returns home and marries a tramp to spite David, Jill, and his meddlesome parent.
"Scene 3: Harley is still carrying the torch for Jill, however, and she realizes she's still in love with him. They can't afford to divorce their mates because
Margaret dominates them with an iron fiscal policy. She gives them a taste for luxuries but keeps them poor.
"Scene 4: Jill plots the embezzlement of bank funds, the murders, and Harley's exchange of identities with his twin.
"Scene 5: On the night of the murder David and Jill arrive at Harley's house at 6:30 as usual. Harley has already shot Belle, and he turns the gun on his brother. Then he exchanges their jewelry and wallets - and shaves off David's moustache. Meanwhile, Jill is staging the ransacking of the library and bedroom, packing the attach‚ case with money, jewels, and the murder weapon.
"Scene 6: Despite Harley's acting talent and his false moustache, his parents know he isn't David. His mother has a fatal stroke, and his father can't face the choice he has to make - either to inform the police that his son has been murdered by his twin brother, or to become an accessory after the fact and live with a heinous secret.