Beagle Scented Murder

14

“Look, Peel,” said Sparbuck, the assistant district attorney, “you were an employee of Beagle’s, that’s all. You’ll get off with a year or two, if you come clean.”

“Sure,” said Peel, “just tell me what you want to know.”

“Everything. The whole story from the beginning and don’t be afraid to go fast because the stenographer’ll get it all down in shorthand and then type it out.”

Peel looked at Sparbuck, then at Lieutenant Becker and the half dozen assorted policemen and officials in the room. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything.” Sparbuck and Becker exchanged triumphant glances.

“I didn’t do it,” said Peel.

“You didn’t do what?” Sparbuck prodded.

“Whatever you think I did.”

Sparbuck frowned. “I haven’t accused you of anything specifically. I just want you to tell the whole story…”

“That’s it. There isn’t any more…”

“I told you!” Lieutenant Becker howled at Sparbuck.

Sparbuck’s face turned from pink to a deep red. “I’ve had wise guys here before, Peel. Some of them are up in San Quentin now…”

“There’s a few cops up there, too. And maybe a couple of D.A.’s,” Peel retorted.

“Le’me talk to him alone, Mr. Sparbuck,” Becker pleaded. “Just leave us alone here for ten minutes and I’ll get it out of him…”

“I doubt it,” said Peel.

Becker started for Peel, but Sparbuck waved him back.

“A forced confession’s no good, Lieutenant. Besides, Otis Beagle…” Sparbuck caught the sudden grin on Peel’s face. “You think Beagle will get you out of this, don’t you? That’s why you won’t talk.”

“I haven’t got anything to talk about.”

“The devil you haven’t. I know more about this mess than you think I do.”

“I don’t doubt that, because I don’t know anything.”

Sparbuck made an effort to control himself. “All right, Peel, I’ll give it to you straight. Six months ago, Wilbur Jolliffe came to your agency…”

“Did he?”

“You know very well that he did. He was being blackmailed by a woman. Beagle was busy on another case and turned Jolliffe over to you. You scared off the woman and told Jolliffe you had made a settlement with her. Actually, you put the money into your own pocket…”

“What did I spend it on?”

Sparbuck gritted his teeth and went on. “The blackmailer came back and this time her demands were greater than Jolliffe could meet. He killed himself.”

“He should’ve gone to the police…”

“That was his mistake; if he’d come to us he’d be alive today, but he trusted a crooked private detective…”

“There’re witnesses here,” said Peel. “Otis won’t like it when he hears you called him crooked…”

“Beagle had nothing to do with Jolliffe. You handled the whole thing.”

“Oh, is that Beagle’s story?”

“Isn’t it true?”

Peel shrugged.

“That’s why he fired you; he learned what you had done.”

“Okay,” said Peel. “Now, all you’ve got to do is prove it.”

Lieutenant Becker made a covert signal to Sparbuck. The assistant district attorney nodded. “I don’t think I’ll try to prove that. Because we have something more serious against you. Murder.”

He paused. Peel looked at the palms of his hands; he showed no especial concern.

“A woman named Helen Gray,” said Sparbuck. “She lived with a girl named Wilma Huston, at the Lehigh Apartments.” Sparbuck inhaled deeply then let Peel have what he thought would be the bone-crusher. “Wilma Huston was the girl who blackmailed Wilbur Jolliffe.”

Sparbuck’s announcement didn’t have quite the effect on Peel that Sparbuck expected. Peel just looked at him calmly.

“Is that so?”

Lieutenant Becker could remain out no longer. “You called on her last night,” he roared. “And don’t try to deny it. A policeman picked you up outside the Lehigh Apartments…”

“Outside the apartment,” said Joe Peel. “I was also outside the Roosevelt Hotel, outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, the Egyptian… and a good many other places. As a matter of fact I took a long walk last night…”

Lieutenant Becker whirled and signalled to a policeman. The man opened the door and spoke to someone outside. A woman came into the room — a huge woman.

Lieutenant Becker said to her, “Miss Winters, I want you to point out the man who rang your doorbell last night…”

Miss Winters pointed at Joe Peel. “That’s him. He rang my bell last night and when I asked him who he wanted he said he was lookin’ for a Miss Smith. Gwendolyn Smith…”

“Thank you, Miss Winters,” said Sparbuck. “That’ll be all.”

Miss Winters gave Joe Peel a contemptuous glance and left the room. Becker turned to Peel.

“So you were in the Lehigh Apartments last night.”

“Her word against mine,” said Peel. “Just because someone claims they saw me in the building at the time of the murder…” Peel paused, looked sharply at Becker. “Helen Gray was killed last night, wasn’t she…?”

Becker winced. “I don’t know exactly what time she was killed. It isn’t important…”

“Isn’t it?”

The door opened and a policeman came in with a dapper little man who waved a folded paper. “Mr. Sparbuck,” he cried, merrily, “a habeas corpus!”

Sparbuck groaned. “Jack Brown!”

Mr. Brown beamed. “In the flesh, Mr. Sparbuck, in the flesh.” He came up to Peel. “Not another word, Mr. Peel. I’m your attorney and I don’t want you to say another word to them.”

“Fedderson,” Becker said, thickly. “I’ll murder him.”

Peel grinned crookedly. “You didn’t really think Fedderson could keep Otis from the telephone, did you?”

“Mr. Brown,” said Sparbuck, “I’m thinking of preferring a murder charge against Peel…”

“Fine, Mr. Sparbuck,” said Jack Brown, “as long as you just think about it. Mr. Peel, shall we go?”

Peel winked at Lieutenant Becker. “A good try, Lieutenant, a pretty good try.”

“We’ll have you back, Peel,” growled Becker, “and maybe I’ll throw away the key then.”