Death Clew

CHAPTER XVI. THE SHADOW’S LIST

IT was six o’clock when Clyde Burke reappeared at detective headquarters. Despite his nonchalant air, The Shadow’s agent was tense. He had a new duty to perform; one that would require greater strategy than the morning’s job.

Clyde had given his report to Rutledge Mann. The investment broker had forwarded it to The Shadow through a special mail chute in the door of an empty office. Later in the day, a new message had been brought to Mann by a telegraph messenger.

Clyde Burke had visited Mann to get his new instructions. Clyde had not been surprised at The Shadow’s orders. The Shadow had picked the very point that Clyde had noted: the willingness with which Cardona had complied with the request to order the list of names.

The Shadow, however, had seen further than had Clyde. His keen brain had divined that Cardona must have gained a clew. It was Clyde’s task now to discuss that subject with the ace detective. Through pleas or threats; through both, if necessary, Clyde must gain the truth from Joe Cardona.

Headquarters was practically deserted when Clyde Burke arrived. A light was shining from the open door of Cardona’s office. The detective had told Clyde that he would be here. Clyde found him at his desk. Cardona looked up and delivered a sour smile.

“There’s your brain child,” the detective remarked, pointing to a huge stack of papers. “Six copies of the list you talked about. Take a look at one — but don’t let it throw you.”

Clyde picked up a sheaf of typewritten pages. Despite the thinness of the sheets, the stack was bulky. It was fastened at one end by a massive paper clip. Clyde estimated a hundred pages in the sheaf.

“All six lists here?” inquired Clyde.

“All six?” Cardona snorted. “What do you think that big pile is on the table for? That’s just one list you’ve got there, young fellow. Look at it — three columns to a page — more than a hundred pages.”

“I didn’t know there would be so many,” protested Clyde.

“Neither did I,” grumbled the detective. “If I’d known it, I wouldn’t have gone in for this cuckoo idea of yours. Do you know how many names there are with the number thirteen somewhere in the phone number? I’ll tell you. Ten thousand — and that’s a conservative estimate.”

“It’s a wonder you ever got the list.”

“I wouldn’t have, if it had been anybody but the phone company. I told them, what I wanted; I said I had to have the list. They never called back to tell me how big it was going to be. They put a whole office staff on the job to get the list here by five thirty. I nearly dropped dead when I saw the size of the bundle.”

CLYDE BURKE sat down and lighted a cigarette. He glanced through a few pages of the list that he was holding; then tossed it on the desk.

“There’s only one point in your favor, Burke,” said Cardona, in a conciliatory manner. “This goofy idea of yours won’t stop a murder; but it might lead to some further step. That doesn’t help me now, though. If another victim goes the route, it won’t help him much just because he has thirteen in his phone number.”

Cardona paused glumly. Clyde Burke eyed the detective narrowly. The Shadow’s agent saw his opportunity.

“Look here, Joe.” Clyde tapped the list that lay near him. “Why did you take up this idea when I suggested it?”

“Why?” parried Cardona. “Because I’m as cracked as you are, I guess.”

“That’s hokum, Joe,” said Clyde, with a grin. “I remember what you said this morning. You pulled the stall that you were superstitious. That’s why you took up the matter of number 13. That was hokum, too.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know it. There’s something you haven’t told me about — something you’re trying to keep out of the newspapers. You know me well enough, Joe. I’m with you. I’ll keep mum on whatever you say. But why not put me straight?”

“Burke,” remarked Cardona, seriously, “you’ve been hunting too much news down in Chinatown. You must have found too many hop joints. Too bad” — Cardona clucked sadly — “just another reporter gone down the slide.”

“Now I know you’re stalling.” Clyde was emphatic. “Listen, Joe. I’ve been on the level with you. I gave you an idea and you took it up. I want to know why you grabbed that thought about the number thirteen. I’m going to find out, because you’re going to tell me.”

“I am?” Cardona’s question was harsh.

“You are,” retorted Clyde. “You are — or else—”

“Or else what?” barked Cardona.

Clyde paused. He studied the detective. Cardona’s fists were clenched. Clyde had gone beyond the limit.

Yet The Shadow’s agent remained unperturbed. Clyde had received full instructions. Cardona’s challenge had been anticipated by The Shadow. His message had provided the answer that Clyde Burke was to give.

“I’ll tell you,” declared Clyde quietly. “These lists here on this desk are a story in themselves. The number thirteen makes a corking tie-up. I’m ready to bust it if you bounce me out of here.

“I’ve got more than a hunch. I know that the number thirteen figures in these murders. You wouldn’t have jumped if it didn’t. If you don’t come clean, Joe, I’m going to shoot this thirteen story for all it’s worth.

“Thirteen clew in Neville-Engliss murders. Sleuth turns superstitious.” Clyde was staring toward the ceiling as though he pictured headlines there. “Phone company aids police search—”

“Lay off, Burke!” Cardona was on his feet. “You started this goofy idea of—”

“And you went through with it,” interrupted Clyde. “You can have the credit.”

CARDONA’S dark eyes were ferocious. Clyde met them with a steady stare. Two determined men were face to face. Clyde Burke could see that Joe Cardona was in a fury.

“You can’t do this, Burke!” came Cardona’s hoarse challenge. “What do you want to do — put me in Dutch with the commissioner? I’m on the trail of murder — I’m no bait for newspaper ridicule.”

“I don’t see it, Joe,” rejoined Clyde. “If this thirteen business means nothing to you, why should you get sore about it?”

Cardona had no reply. He stood glowering, not knowing what to say.

“But if it means something to you,” asserted Clyde, in a steady tone, “I’m with you to the limit. On one condition only — that you tell me what it’s all about.

“I’m not asking anything unfair. I brought you something that you thought was worth while. I don’t want to see my theory go in the ash can. I played fair. You know I always do. And fair play means a fifty-fifty break.”

Joe Cardona sat down behind his desk. He nodded thoughtfully. He had received the import of Clyde’s challenge. He was weighing the proposition. His capitulation came.

“You win, Burke,” declared Cardona, slowly. “I’ve got a clew that fits in with what you gave me. That’s why I rushed these lists. You always have played fair. Do I have your word that you’ll say nothing about what I show you?”

“Absolutely,” agreed Clyde.

Cardona reached in his vest pocket. He produced a folded envelope. From it, he drew the torn fragment of paper. He placed it on the desk in front of the reporter.

“I found that at Crane’s,” stated Cardona. “It was under the wastebasket. I discovered it after you were gone.”

“Men thirteen,” read Clyde. “Say, Joe — this does fit in with my idea.”

“Strangler Hunn wrote that,” asserted Cardona. “He must have made some notation from papers he found at Crane’s. He tore the paper when he knew there was a fight coming.”

“After he had killed MacAvoy Crane,” commented Clyde. “Say, Joe — just what kind of investigation had Crane been doing?”

“I’ve told you enough, Burke,” growled Cardona. “You wanted to know why I followed up your idea on number thirteen. I’ve told you. I thought that maybe this piece of paper meant something about thirteen men. After I heard your idea, I decided that I might be wrong.”

Clyde nodded. Tactfully, he came back to the subject of the paper alone. Picking up a pad that lay on Cardona’s desk, he printed with a pencil.

“It might read something like this,” suggested Clyde, as he handed the result to Cardona. “Other words on both sides of men and 13, with the little chunk out of the center of the paper.”

CARDONA studied Clyde’s inscription. In copy of Strangler Hunn’s wide-spaced style, Clyde had printed:

“That might be it.” Cardona shrugged his shoulders as he tore up Clyde’s effort and threw the pieces on the floor. “We’ve got two keys—’men’ is one and ‘13’ is the other. But you can guess anything for the rest of it.—”

The detective paused. A shadow had appeared at the door. Clyde Burke swung to see who had arrived.

It was Fritz the janitor. Cardona grinned.

“Bucket and mop on the job again,” was the detective’s comment. “All right, Fritz. Start to clean up. We’re leaving.”

“Yah.” was Fritz’s dull reply.

The janitor shambled toward the desk. He set his bucket close by Clyde Burke’s chair. His head was bent. Joe Cardona did not see the keen light that showed in Fritz’s eyes as they spied the paper fragment which lay in front of Clyde Burke.

“That’s all,” asserted Cardona. He reached over and picked up the bit of paper. “I’ve answered your question, Burke. If this clew brings any new result, I’ll let you in on it — when we’re ready to shoot the story. But in the meantime, I’m trusting you. I showed this paper to the commissioner and he said to keep it out of sight.”

“No one else has seen it?”

“No one except — well, no one except you.”

“All right, Joe. I’ll keep mum.”

“You’d better. If anything is said about this chunk of paper” — Cardona was putting the fragment in the envelope — “I’ll know who’s to blame.”

Fritz had slouched to the side of Cardona’s desk. He was standing there as Clyde Burke arose. From the corner of his eye, the false janitor saw the reporter pick up the list of names that Cardona had given him for examination.

“Wait a minute, Burke!” Cardona shot a paw across the desk. “You don’t get that list!”

“Why not?” questioned Clyde, in a surprised tone.

“You’ve got no use for it,” snorted Cardona. “What’s more, it’s my idea now. I showed you the clew. I keep the lists.”

As Cardona plucked the single list from Clyde’s hand, Fritz placed his palm upon the stack of lists that lay at Cardona’s side. Neither detective nor reporter saw the single, rolling motion with which the fake janitor coiled a paper-clipped list into a cylinder. Turning toward the wall, Fritz thrust the packet into his overalls.

“I don’t get you, Joe,” pleaded Clyde. “I’d like to look over one of those lists. Maybe I’d get another idea. I won’t show it down at the Classic office.”

“Nothing doing,” growled Cardona. “I know you’ll keep quiet about the paper I showed you. But a list like this is something that could lay around. I’m taking these lists up to the commissioner’s tonight. Nobody gets a copy until he says so.”

FRITZ had stooped beside the desk. He came up with a cluster of torn envelopes that Cardona, who scorned wastebaskets, had chucked on the floor. Thrusting an envelope in front of the detective’s eyes, Fritz inquired:

“Any goot?”

“No,” returned Cardona.

Fritz dropped the envelope in front of Clyde Burke, turning it over as he did so. He thrust a second envelope in front of Joe Cardona.

“This one,” asked the janitor. “Any goot?”

“No! shouted Cardona. “None of them are any good. That’s why I threw them on the floor. Chuck them all out, Fritz.”

Clyde Burke was staring at the envelope which Fritz had laid in front of him. On the flap — the side that Fritz had turned upward — was a coded sentence in blue ink. A message from The Shadow!

“List not needed,” read Clyde. “Agree to all Cardona asks. Off duty.” The words faded as though an invisible hand had wiped them from the envelope. Clyde was still staring when Fritz turned and picked up the envelope — now blank — to take it away with the others that the janitor held.

Joe Cardona still held the list that he had taken back from Clyde Burke. The detective placed it on the stack that lay beside him. He bundled up the lists and arose from his desk.

“I guess you’re right, Joe,” remarked Clyde. “I can’t do anything with that list — maybe you can. Take credit for it when you talk with the commissioner. If anything comes out of it, the trouble will be worth while.”

“The commissioner will like the idea, all right,” asserted Joe. “He’s strong for this deductive stuff. But he’s a critical bird too, Burke. Ten thousand names” — Cardona shook his head doubtfully — “it’s an awful lot. Too big a list, Burke. Too big.”

Clyde had risen. He paced beside Cardona as the detective started from the office. Clyde preceded Joe through the door. Momentarily, from the corridor, Clyde glanced into the office. Fritz was facing the wall, busy with his mop. Overalls and stooped shoulders were the only impressions that Clyde gained in this parting glance.

Even to his agent, The Shadow’s disguise had been perplexing. Clyde Burke, as he walked forth with Joe Cardona, still wondered how that message had come upon the envelope which the dull-faced janitor had picked up from the floor. Clyde had rejected the truth — it seemed incredible — that the supposed Fritz was The Shadow. Yet Clyde had obeyed the message; for it had been in the code that The Shadow always used.

IN Joe Cardona’s office, the tall figure of Fritz ceased mopping. The false janitor moved into the corridor and reached his locker. He deposited mop and bucket. He drew black objects from the locker.

Two minutes later, a phantom form glided from the side exit. The Shadow, guised in blackness, merged with the gathered dusk. A soft laugh came from his hidden lips.

The Shadow had seen Cardona’s clew. The Shadow had gained a copy of Cardona’s list. His strategy had worked, through Clyde Burke’s capable following of instructions.

Headed for his sanctum, The Shadow was prepared to combat coming crime. While police were engaged in twofold search for plotter and murderer, The Shadow had chosen the final method as his own.

The Shadow planned to frustrate crime by discovering the next victim whom the killer sought!

Clyde Burke had suggested the making of a list. Cardona had followed the reporter’s idea. Ostensibly, the plan was Burke’s; apparently, the list was now Cardona’s.

Actually, both the idea and its completion belonged to The Shadow. He had supplied the purpose; he had gained the copy that he needed.

Ten thousand names! Such was the list that The Shadow had acquired. With his sight of Cardona’s clew, he was ready to put the list in use!