Mac was hard to convince. “And suppose he did break them here; he might have dropped them — any time, a week ago, maybe.
“It won’t wash, Mac,” Keith contradicted. “He put them on to look at some press clips of mine last night — less than half an hour before he left the front door. You should remember it; you were there. And don’t lie about it. Calamity was there, too.”
“Okay, maybe he dropped them while he was here just before he left the lot.”
Merlini asked, “Why would he gather up the frames and broken glass and put them in his breast pocket? No point in carrying them with him when they were smashed.”
“How should I know?” Mac growled. “He did funnier things. You listen to me, Merlini. If there are any murders on this show I’ll be the first one to call the cops. But it’s going to take a damn sight more than this to make me think that—”
Pauline put in, “The medical examiner said it was accidental death.”
Merlini nodded. “Yes, but there seem to be a lot of things he wasn’t told about. There’s the burglar, for instance.”
Merlini was at his old tricks again — taking unexpected rabbits out of top hats without warning. He got his effect. Pauline’s face went white; she sat down. Mac gave a distinct start.
“Burglar?” Mac asked.
“Yes, Miss Hannum, were your father’s keys found on his body — and who has them?”
“Yes. I do.” Pauline spoke mechanically, like a sleepwalker.
“Have you — has anyone — entered this trailer since the accident? As far as you know?”
“I did — this morning. I got a suit of his clothes — for the undertaker.”
There was a rattle at the door then, and Mac turned to pull it open. A voice outside said, “Seen Miss Pattison, Mr. Wiley? They sent me to look for her. She’s due on.”
Pauline was suddenly businesslike again. “Joy, get out there at once. Henry, tell Walter to spot the traps after the concert announcement. She has to change yet.”
“Yessir,” the voice said.
Joy got up and walked toward the door. With her hand on the knob she turned and looked at Pauline.
“Did you take anything else?” she asked coolly.
I could hear Pauline suck in her breath. “So that’s it!” She got to her feet. “Get out!” she said. Her words stung.
Joy looked at her for a moment longer, an odd expression on her face; then, without saying anything at all, she turned quietly and went through the door, closing it after her.
Pauline turned to Merlini. “I’ve had enough of this! Are you going to the police with this story?”
Before he could answer, Keith said, “I am.”
“You don’t think we should, Miss Hannum?” Merlini asked.
“No. You don’t have a thing except some wild accusations by Keith — and Joy. The photograph means nothing — the medical examiner has made his report. I know why Dad left the lot last night. And there’s no reason why he should have told Keith or Mac. The stain in the hat could be anything, and it may have been there a long time. He could have broken his glasses before he left. Joy has no proof at all that my father ever made a will. I don’t think he did. I looked for it and I found none.”
“Then it was you who searched this trailer?”
“I looked through his papers in the desk, yes.”
“You didn’t look in these linen cupboards and these other drawers?” Merlini indicated several near the wardrobe.
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t expect to find—”
Something in his expression stopped her. She reached up and opened a cupboard above her head. It was filled with sheets, pillowcases, and towels. They were mussed and disordered.
“Every drawer and cupboard in the place looks like that,” Merlini said. “You see, you forget the burglar I mentioned.”
“But I don’t—” Pauline began.
“Other than a possible will that may or may not exist, what else did the Major have in this trailer that was of value, that someone broke in to hunt for?”
Pauline shook her head. “I don’t—” Then sudden suspicion caught her. “How do I know that you didn’t do this before Mac and I got here?”
Merlini hesitated over that one. Then he looked at me. “Ross,” he said wryly, “make a note of this. The next time you catch me agreeing to undertake an unofficial murder investigation I want you to kick me hard. You have no way at all of knowing that I didn’t search the trailer, Miss Hannum. I did search it, but I didn’t disarrange the contents of these drawers and cupboards. I found them that way. And I didn’t use a glass cutter to make a hole in that window.” He pointed toward it. “That also was here when Keith, Ross, and myself arrived. I only picked the lock on the door.”
The surprised looks Mac and Pauline threw toward the window seemed genuine enough. But they both regarded Merlini suspiciously, as if they thought he was talking fast, trying to pull himself out of a hole.
As a clincher, Merlini reached into his magical hat and drew forth still another bunny. He passed Joy’s flashlight to Mac. “You might take a close look at that windowpane just above the cut-out section. Tell me what you see.”
Mac scowled, took the flashlight, and did as directed. I stood behind him and looked too. I saw on the glass three oval impressions that had a familiar shape.
“Fingerprints,” Mac said. “So what?”
“Don’t you notice anything odd about them?” Merlini asked.
I looked more closely. Then I saw it. These prints were strangely, queerly different from any others I had ever seen.
“They have no ridge markings,” I said. “No whorls or loops. They’re perfectly flat. What sort of a what-is-it—?”
“That,” Merlini said, “is the question. Well, Mac?”
“Well, what?” he replied. “You’re still making mountains out of mole hills. And we can arrest you for breaking and entering if you’re going to be stubborn, you know.”
“But you won’t. Miss Hannum wouldn’t let you. There happens to be another case of illegal entry that cancels mine out.”
The expression on Pauline’s face was ample indication that that shot had rung the bell and won the nickel cigar. But Merlini didn’t stop to collect. He went after a bigger prize.
“I’ve a theory or two about the burglar with the curious fingerprints. One goes like this: Once upon a time, last evening probably, someone removed that piece of windowpane with a glass cutter, released the inside catch, and crawled in. He — or perhaps she — searched this room, hunting for something of an undetermined nature. Whether he found it or not we don’t know. But I suspect that he was interrupted in his illegal pursuits when the Major returned to get his slicker.”
Merlini was watching Pauline, Mac and Keith closely. He got just as much attention from them.
“The burglar,” he continued, “couldn’t escape the way he had come, since that window is on the same side as the door. He hadn’t time to crawl out one of the others; the door was already opening. So, when the Major stepped inside, a blow from the dark hit him on the head. He fell. His hat rolled off. The glasses in his breast pocket smashed. The Major’s weak heart stopped. We don’t know if the marauder knew about the heart, but it makes no difference. Even if he only intended to knock the Major out, legally it’s still murder, since he was engaged in burglary when it happened.
“Finding the Major was dead, the killer set quickly to work to cover up. He lifted the body, and some of the smaller glass particles from the broken spectacles trickled from the Major’s pocket. The body was carried out and placed in the trunk compartment of the Major’s own car. It was dark and stormy, and with reasonable care, the killer stood little chance of being seen. Hurriedly, so that no one would see that it wasn’t the Major who was driving, he drove the car off the lot. On a side road, where it wouldn’t be discovered until he had time to return on foot, he faked the accident. I imagine that he put the Major’s body behind the wheel, pulled the throttle wide open, and started it down the hill. The body, slumped over the wheel, would hold it fairly steady for some distance. The car hit the bridge. And that theory, you see, explains the cut windowpane, the bits of spectacle glass, the lack of blood on the body, the stain in the hat, and the apparently peculiar behavior of the Major. The Major didn’t act normally in leaving the lot because he was dead.”