“One of those jaw-breaker ones like we had in that Skelton Island case. She says he’s a claustrophobe — that he’d commit a dozen murders to avoid landing in a prison cell, and that the phobia worked on him so strong he got to the point where he wouldn’t trust a soul. He began to suspect that the Major and, after he’d killed him, even Paula, were going to turn him in. But that’s eyewash. Because the Duke isn’t the murderer.”
“And who is?”
Gavigan shrugged. “Why should I tell you that until I’ve made the arrest? Do you ever tell me?”
“I’ll make an exception this time,” Merlini said. “If your candidate is not the same as mine, I’ll trade you. I think I’m going to need your help putting the cuffs on anyway.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Gavigan said. “Okay. It’s a deal. And Ross is a witness to that promise, remember. If you try to welsh, you’ll have another chance to try getting out of Hooper’s jail; and this time I’ll make it really tough for you.”
“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Merlini said.
Gavigan scowled at him, suspicious of this unexpected open-handedness. “Okay. I don’t see how you can have any other answer anyway. The murderer, as usual, is the most unlikely person. How the hell you manage it I don’t know, but you always seem to get mixed up in just the kind of a murder case that gives Harte here material for a book. No waste motion with you two.”
“The most unlikely person?” Merlini asked. “Sure you know who that is, are you?”
“I don’t see how anybody could be more unlikely,” Gavigan came back. “It’s the old, old gag — so old that I’m afraid for once Ross will say it’s too trite to write. The murderer is the invalid who’s flat on her back and apparently can’t move hand or foot—Pauline Hannum!”
I wasn’t too surprised at that, because I’d been considering the idea myself. I couldn’t make out whether Merlini was surprised or not. But Mac Wiley wasn’t having any.
“You’re crazy,” the latter exploded. “Pauline wouldn’t—”
Merlini broke in, “You don’t think her injuries are real then, Inspector?”
“They’re not as bad as she makes out by a long shot. She may have some cuts and bruises, but she took that fall on purpose for an alibi. You told me yourself once that acrobats know how to fall with lots less chance of injury than other people. They land relaxed instead of all tightened up, and they go into a roll. And since it wasn’t unexpected, since she knew exactly when she had to take the drop—”
“Then you’re holding off on the arrest until you can check back on Dr. Tripp in Waterboro?”
“Yeah. And he’s going to get a good going-over. If he says she’s really badly injured, it’s possible she paid him off with some of the cash. I’m pretty sure the Duke already handed over a first payment because of that salary payoff last Saturday.”
“I see,” Merlini said. “And her motive?”
“She inherits the show, doesn’t she?”
“I wish I knew,” Merlini said. “Though of course when the Major was killed she may have thought she did.”
“But she does. She just showed us the Major’s will. There was one all along. She sneaked it from the Major’s trailer right after his accident. It leaves Pauline, Paulette, and Joy Pattison each a third interest. The show’s to go on with Pauline as manager and the profits to be split three ways. Pauline held back the will because it mentioned Paulette under her real and under her stage name, Paula Starr. She didn’t want the cops to pick up Paula before she’d had a chance to eliminate her, and she wanted the Duke to get clear so she’d collect some more of the Weissman dough that he’d promised to pay. The circus needed cash. Joy was next on her list. Pauline’s always been burned up because of Paula’s more glamorous success and has been angry as hell that Joy should chisel in on what she figures should be hers. When she killed the Major, I don’t think she knew he’d actually left Joy anything, but she did it partly because she was afraid he would. She planned the Major’s death to look like accident. When you got nosy, she knew Paula’s death, accident or not, would look suspicious; so she arranged that fall of hers as an alibi and planned to make Paula’s death look like a disappearance by concealing the body. She was going to take it along for a day or so and ditch it a hundred miles or more away. When Schafer started his search, she had to get rid of it quickly, and she passed it to you to queer your investigation. And now, because she knows that won’t really stick, she’s got the Duke picked for the fall guy.”
“Tex Mayo assisted her, I take it?”
“Yeah. They worked together on Paula’s death, and maybe he did more than that; though if necessary, being an athlete herself, she could have moved the body.”
“And the missing head?” Merlini asked. “Was that removed so as to prevent discovery of Paula’s identity and avoid any suspicion that the Duke might be lurking on the lot?”
“Anything wrong with that reason?”
“I don’t think I care for it particularly,” Merlini said. “Our murderer has been so careful all along, I can’t quite see him — or her, as the case may be — failing to remove the clothing labels.”
Gavigan wasn’t greatly impressed. “When you’ve known as many murderers as I have,” he said, “you won’t give them credit for so damned much intelligence. They make mistakes like anybody else, and some of the smartest killers make the dumbest ones.”
“Yes,” Merlini said. “I know that. Just the same—”
I took a chance and stuck my neck out. “I know another reason why that head might have been removed,” I said. “And the murderer, though trying to hide the identity of the body, would have left the clothing labels on purpose and for a damn good reason.”
Gavigan said hopefully. “Well, let’s have it.”
Merlini looked at me narrowly and said, “Wait a minute. Ross, I noticed that you carefully avoided using the murderer’s name. I’ve a feeling that you are not talking about Pauline.”
“No,” I said, “I’m not. I’ve got a much better candidate for the job. And boy, has she given us the run around! The murderess—”
Merlini looked behind him and said softly, “Oh, oh! This would happen! It’s pay day. And we collect the wages of sin. Brady has opened Pandora’s box!”
Several running figures came at us out of the darkness. Schafer and Hooper in the lead.
Hooper spied us first and, though the bellow he gave vent to didn’t sound like “Tally-ho!” by a long shot, that’s what it meant.
He had a gun in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. He didn’t waste any words until one cuff was on Merlini’s wrist and the other on his own. Then, still puffing, he said, “From now on we sleep together!”
Merlini said unhappily, “That’s an indecent proposal, Chief. There’s a law—”
Inspector Gavigan stepped forward. “Just a minute. I’ll vouch for this man. He—”
Hooper turned on him. “You?” he growled. “Who the blasted hell are you?”
“Now you’ve gone and done it, Hooper!” Merlini said. “May I present Chief Inspector Gavigan? Chief of Police Hooper and Captain Schafer.”
“Oh. Ha. Humpf. I’m sorry. Glad to meet you.” Hooper was flustered, though not nearly as much as I had hoped.
Schafer asked heavily, “What do you mean, you’ll vouch for him? You told me to lock him up!”
“Yes, I know,” Gavigan said, and rapidly gave Schafer the reasons he had given us.
Chief Hooper, however, wasn’t going to play. “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Inspector. I don’t even care if he’s not a murderer. I’ve got all I want on him. Pocket-picking, breaking and entering, willful destruction of county property, jail-breaking, assaulting officers in the performance of their duty, impersonating an officer! Most of that goes for Harte, too. Stevens, get the patrol wagon around here! They’re going in now!”