“We want to see Mrs. Leslie Young at once,” he said.
The butler blinked. “I believe she’s in the drawing room with Mr. Dwight. I wouldn’t wish to interrupt...”
“That’s all right.” Burke pushed past the butler’s protruding abdomen. “We’re the law and we’re investigating murder.”
“Quite so, sir.” The butler sounded as though murder investigations were normal routine at the Dwight mansion.
“We’ll see Mrs. Young as soon as she finishes her conference with Dwight,” Burke told him. “In the meantime, I want to have a good look through the telescope.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler snapped his fingers at a maid wearing a frilly apron, who was coming down the hall. “Show these policemen the telescope balcony.”
We followed her up a stairway leading off the hall, to double glass doors opening onto the balcony which was littered with lounging chairs and sun umbrellas. Burke said, “Thanks,” and closed the door behind me as I followed him out.
The balcony was high enough so it overlooked the tops of trees dotting the lawn in front of the house. A large telescope was mounted on a heavy tripod near the railing. Burke dropped into the leather-cushioned chair set conveniently behind it, leaned forward and squinted through the eyepiece. It was mounted on a knuckle-bearing which allowed it to swing up and down as well as around in a circle.
I stood behind him while he adjusted the focus and moved it back and forth over a small arc. He got up after a few minutes and motioned for me to have a look.
It was a powerful glass. Burke had it focussed directly on the flat roof above the screened back porch of the Young cottage. A rustic stairway led up to the roof from the outside. I felt as though I could reach forward and touch an outspread blanket on the roof, an open book lying face downward beside it, a water pitcher and a glass. The connection between sunbathing and a telescope was cinched, just as I had known it would be. Had there been a nude figure lying on the blanket every intimate detail would have been revealed to me... a mile away.
I swung the telescope downward, adjusting the knurled focussing screw as I did so. Treetops on the Dwight estate cut off the view about halfway down the slope from the Young cabin to the gully where Young had been murdered.
Watching me, Burke said: “I thought of that too, Asa. But it doesn’t work. The crime couldn’t have been witnessed through this telescope.”
I swung the telescope up and brought the city of El Paso vividly into focus. Sitting comfortably in that cushioned chair, one could clearly see the features of people walking in the Plaza; the glimmering serpentine of the Rio Grande seemed just over the brow of the slope, and the quiet Mexican countryside was clearly revealed.
Burke was pacing up and down puffing on his pipe when I got up. He gestured across the valley toward the Young cottage with a grimace.
“It’s a hell of a note when a woman can’t have privacy on her own roof out here in the wilderness.”
I said: “A certain type of man gets a kick out of that peeping tom stuff.”
“Men like Raymond Dwight?” Burke’s jaws clamped his pipestem tightly.
I hesitated, trying to recall all the rumors I had heard about the private life of the oil baron. “That’s hard to say. He has money enough to buy all the women he’s wanted since his wife died.”
“Lots of men want what they can’t buy.”
Without pretending to be a psychologist, I knew what Burke was getting at. It wasn’t difficult to conceive aroused male passion at the small end of a telescope focussed on the naked body of Myra Young enjoying a sun-bath. Dwight had a reputation for going after anything he wanted with a ruthless disregard for human rights. If he desired a woman enough...
Burke interrupted by train of thought. “There’s no use wasting time guessing. Let’s go down and ask him.”
He went inside through the curtained glass doors and I followed him downstairs. The butler was hovering anxiously around the foot of the stairs.
“We’ll see Mr. Dwight now,” Burke told him.
“I thought you wished to see Mrs. Young, sir.”
“We’ll take them both in our stride. Is the drawing room down this way?” Burke started down the richly carpeted hall.
The butler trotted along with a worried frown on his face. “I had instructions they were not to be disturbed, sir. Definite instructions...”
“I’ll take full responsibility. You needn’t announce us. In fact... I prefer not to be announced. Show us the drawing room.”
“Here, sir.” The butler indicated closed sliding doors. “But, if I may offer a suggestion...”
“Offer it,” said Burke genially, “and be damned.” He opened the sliding doors and stepped inside the long drawing room.
I was at his heels. The couple on the window seat at the far end of the room didn’t hear us. It was like a movie close-up with the villain straining the woman to him while she futilely tried to push him away.
Jerry Burke cleared his throat when we were halfway across the thick rug.
Raymond Dwight came to his feet like a released spring, his dark face flushed with anger. Myra shrank back on the window seat, one hand going to the loose top buttons of her khaki shirt.
“What the devil does this mean?” Dwight’s voice was a heavy bellow of rage.
“My name is Burke...”
“I don’t give a goddamn who or what you are. Get out of here!”
Jerry Burke set his big frame solidly as the millionaire stalked toward him with outjutted jaw.
“I’m the law, Dwight,” he said coldly. “Your millions don’t make you exempt.”
Myra Young got up and came to Dwight’s side. Her gaze rested on us scornfully. “It’s the policemen I told you about, Mr. Dwight. The ones who came to my cabin and threatened me.”
Then she challenged Burke: “Have you a warrant for my arrest?”
“Not yet,” he told her evenly. “Chief Jelcoe is probably swearing out one for you. The charge is going to be first degree murder, Mrs. Young.”
Raymond Dwight’s heavy jaw sagged ludicrously. Then it snapped shut. “What right have you to enter a private residence? I’ll have your stripes for this intrusion.”
“I have no stripes,” Burke told him drily. “I’m laying my cards before Mrs. Young on the chance that she may wish to amplify her previous testimony.”
Myra Young linked her arm in Dwight’s. “We were just... talking about it.”
Dwight still faced Burke angrily. “Are you threatening Mrs. Young?”
“No indeed,” Burke assured him. “I noted that she hurried over here by an unobserved back trail to interview you as soon as she realized we were closing in on her. I merely wondered why.”
Mrs. Young started guiltily and a spot of color glowed in her cheeks. She started to say something, checked herself.
Dwight patted her arm and said: “If either Mrs. Young or I have a statement to make it will be in private to the highest authority. Not to some insolent...”
Burke moved back and sank easily into a deep chair, interrupting Dwight: “I’m giving you this opportunity to make a statement to one in competent authority. I don’t believe you heard my name. It was Burke. Jerry Burke. And this is my assistant, Asa Baker.”
Raymond Dwight started to sputter an angry retort, then looked at me for the first time. He swallowed his words and looked again.
“I believe you two have met before... across the Border, wasn’t it? Baker was acting for me last night.” Burke’s easy manner changed to one of authoritative briskness: “If you can throw any light on this murder investigation, Mr. Dwight, I’m waiting to hear it.”
The millionaire and the widow exchanged glances. Dwight cleared his throat and led Myra Young to a chair. Then he went to the sliding doors and closed them tightly. Coming back to stand by Myra, his attitude was protective.