“Since he still had the other share? I see. He sold one share to Sligo for a thousand dollars, knowing full well that Sligo with an apparent majority would crowd Ben and then Ben, to protect himself, would have to pay Ernest whatever the latter asked for the other share... which would give him no more than a draw with Sligo.”
Thayer scowled. “What’s wrong about that? If you knew Chapman as well as the rest of us...”
“I’ve got to know him pretty well. Whatever you think of Chapman I think twice as hard. But if what you’re telling me is true... then Ernie Pelkey killed Dan Sligo.”
Thayer’s eyes fell again.
Sargent continued, “Sligo must have suspected that he was being razzle-dazzled and went for Ernie.”
“All right,” said Thayer. “I figured that out a long time ago. But it was self-defense, see? Sligo made a pass at Ernie and Ernie grabbed up the scissors and let him have it.”
“No,” said Sargent. “Sligo was killed in his own office. But he was killed with Chapman’s shears. The murderer brought them into Sligo’s office. He didn’t just grab them up in self-defense. It was premeditated.”
Thayer stared at Sargent goggle-eyed. “Say that again!”
Sargent repeated it, adding, “And Pelkey didn’t commit suicide. That was murder.”
“What are you driving at?” Thayer asked hoarsely.
“What I’ve been aiming at right from the start. I want to get the murderer of Ernest Pelkey and Daniel Sligo... because I’m still convinced that it was the same person.”
“It couldn’t have been!”
“Why not?”
“Because... because...” Thayer started floundering and Sargent stepped into the breech.
“I know some things you don’t, Thayer. Maybe. I know that an entirely different person popped up today with one of those two shares of stock that Ernest Pelkey had. Ben Chapman’s ex-wife!”
“What?” cried Thayer, almost staggering from the astonishing information.
Sargent left him in the kitchen then. If Thayer had told the truth he was no longer important in the case. If he had lied about selling that share of stock to Ernest Pelkey, he was too cognizant of his own guilt to spill anything to Sargent.
In the living room Ben O. Chapman was sitting on the floor, entertaining his guests with anecdotes of his successful business career. Eileen Prescott was sitting beside him and on the other side of her, Mr. Maltz was holding one of her hands. Eileen half started up when she saw Sargent, but he shook his head.
“Ben,” he said, “have you got a phone here?”
“In the bedroom. I’ll show you.”
“Never mind.”
Sargent crossed the room and entered Ben Chapman’s bedroom. The walls were hung with fifty or sixty swords, daggers and knives. There was also a bicycle exerciser and a small shelf of books. Sargent, curious as to Ben’s taste in literature, scanned the titles, Forty Years, Forty Millions, The Life of Frank A. Munsey stood between Boccaccio’s Decameron and Fanny Hill. Farther along the shelf were: Business Depressions, Past and Present; Mein Kampf; and Horatio Alger, by Herbert C. Mayes.
The telephone was on a stand beside a bed covered with a black velvet spread. Sargent shot the bolt on the inside of the door before going to the phone.
The directory was under the stand and Sargent looked up the number listed for Daniel Sligo. Then he dialed it. It was some time before Martha Sligo’s hoarse voice snapped, “Hello!”
“Listen,” said Sargent, in a hushed bass, “you’re having a stockholders’ meeting tomorrow with Ben Chapman, aren’t you?”
There was a slight pause, then Martha Sligo said, “What of it? Who is this?”
“You don’t know me,” said Sargent, “but I can do you a favor. A mighty big favor.”
“Is this— Who are you?” Martha Sligo demanded querulously. “I won’t talk to you unless you tell me who you are.”
“Then you won’t talk — and you’ll be sorry!” Sargent put the receiver on the hook.
He waited approximately two minutes, then dialed the number again. “Do you want to talk?” he asked, when Martha Sligo answered.
“Yes! That is, if you’re the right person.”
“Eh?” Sargent snarled. “Somebody else been calling you up? Then deal with them — if they’ve got it!”
“Wait!” wailed Martha Sligo. “Wait a minute... please!”
Sargent hung up. Then he stared at the phone. It was true, Martha Sligo had been offered Business Journals stock and she was willing to buy it. That meant Ben Chapman was licked... unless Sargent could find Ruth Reese before eleven in the morning.
But did he want to find her before that time? He didn’t care if Ben Chapman lost control of Business Journals. It would serve the man right to suffer a crushing business and financial defeat after all the careers he had ruined in his time.
Except... that would be a victory for X, the murderer.
Sargent became aware of a persistent tapping on the bedroom door. He went to it and shot the bolt. Ben Chapman crowded in, closing the door behind him.
“What is it, Sargent? What did you learn?”
“I learned,” said Sargent deliberately, “that you’re going to take one awful beating tomorrow.”
Chapman wailed, “Everybody’s against me. You’ve let me down worst of all. You’re—”
“Fired,” said Sargent. “And you’ll be fired tomorrow, unless I get a lucky break in the morning.”
Chapman’s eagerness created by the meager hope thrown to him was almost pathetic. “There’s a chance, Sargent? Oh, good! You’ll do it, Sargent, I know you will. I’ll raise your salary.”
“Ah, hell! Now pull yourself together and answer a couple of straight questions. Without any nonsense. First, why are you throwing a party here, tonight of all times?”
“Because I was afraid to be alone. There’s safety with people around you. I told you I had been threatened.”
“Who threatened you?”
Chapman blinked. “Why... why, Daniel was murdered, then Pelkey...”
“But who threatened you?”
“Why, no one exactly, but I can sense it. They’re going to get me.”
For the second time within the half hour Sargent lost his patience. “Stand still, you fool! I mean keep that rattlebrain of yours still for a minute.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Chapman whimpered. “You’re just like all the others.”
Sargent caught his employer by the front of his shirt. “I said, stand still! Now answer this question: Why were you having Daniel Sligo shadowed before his death?”
Chapman’s eyes rolled wildly. “How do you know that?”
Sargent shook him violently. “I’m asking the questions. Why did you have Sligo shadowed?”
“Because I was afraid he’d go to Pelkey after I’d discharged Pelkey. I knew Pelkey had that share of stock.”
“Then why did you fire Pelkey?”
“Because he was a raving maniac! What could I do? He assaulted me fearfully, right in my own office.”
“Why?”
“No reason at all. I couldn’t understand—”
“Why?” insisted Sargent.
“I don’t know. Well, he accused me of trying to steal his wife from him.”
“You were that man!” gasped Sargent. “I... I’d thought that was Jim Robertson.”
“Robertson? Has he been shining up to Hester Pelkey?”
“No, you fool. I said I’d thought he was the man. And it was you. Why the devil didn’t you tell me this at the start?”