Mox

CHAPTER XII CARDONA DRAWS A TRUMP

THE morrow found Detective Joe Cardona impatiently pacing his office at headquarters. The star sleuth was in a grouchy mood. His trip to Darport had produced a tasteless aftermath.

Cardona picked up a newspaper; he read its front-page story. He threw the journal aside with a contemptuous snort. Angrily, he strode into another office, where he found the gray-haired inspector, Timothy Klein, seated at his desk.

Back on the job, Inspector Klein was taking matters easily after his long illness. He looked up as Cardona entered, noted the surly expression on the ace detective’s face, and ventured a remark of inquiry.

“What’s the matter, Joe?”

“Plenty, inspector,” retorted the detective. “I go out to cooperate on a case, and a hick county detective tries to show me up for a sap.”

“Hardly, Joe,” rebuked Klein.

“I can’t see it any other way,” growled Cardona. “This has made me look like small change with the commissioner, I guess. Even the newspapers are taking a slam at me. Joe Cardona — ace of the New York force — trumped by a deuce! That’s the way they’re putting it. What’s to be done about it?”

“Find a higher trump,” suggested Klein.

“I’d like to do that!” blurted Cardona. “I’d like to make that guy Tharbel crawl. Say — the way he treated me! If he ever drives that old buggy of his down here — which I doubt, because it would fall apart five miles out of Darport — I’ll have every traffic cop tipped to hand him a ticket.”

INSPECTOR KLEIN smiled. He felt that Cardona’s anger was exaggerated. Joe could become short-tempered at times. Nevertheless, Klein felt that the detective had cause for soreness. His visit to Darport had certainly not added to his prestige.

“The fox held out on me,” declared Cardona emphatically. “He kept me guessing — that’s all. I went up there because I was looking for a connection between Neswick and Greerson — both inventors. The newspapers brought it on; I followed it after I talked with the commissioner.

“I got the connection all right. But it wasn’t the one I was looking for. I expected to find that Neswick and Greerson knew each other. Instead, I learned that Neswick, like Greerson, was a friend of Schuyler Harlew.

“See how that has twisted it? Moxton — or Mox as he called himself — is the murderer. He’s the guy that got Harlew. He probably got Greerson. He was after Neswick. And all this while, I was looking for Greerson as a murderer. Who shows me I’m wrong? A hick detective, who holds back on the goods until he can make me look like a sap.”

“Don’t take it so tough, Joe.”

“I wouldn’t, if there was a way out. But the worst of it is that I’ve been trying to locate people whom Harlew knew. The only one I landed was Greerson — and he’s gone. Along comes Junius Tharbel, big frog in a little puddle — and a muddy one, at that — to produce Neswick.

“Besides that, he has Neswick’s testimony that Moxton was Harlew’s boss. Say, inspector, this has got me buffaloed. I’m ready to quit — that’s all. The newspapers have cut loose, and I’m a goat.”

“Steady down, Joe,” ordered Klein. “There’ll be some breaks coming along pretty—”

“For Junius Tharbel, maybe,” interposed Cardona. “He’s a guy that plays for them. He can get them — in a bum town like Darport, where anybody that stays up after nine is probably a crook. If we had a curfew bell here in New York, I could round up a lot of thugs myself.”

“There must be a way out.”

“There is.” Joe was emphatic as he spoke. “I’ll tell you the kind of break I’d like to get, inspector. I found out about Greerson. I didn’t know where he’d gone, but I know now that he went to Darport to see Mox.

“Tharbel puts me down as a sap by playing his trump. He gets Neswick. He brings the whole thing out. Neswick came to see Mox. The old gent tried to kill him. Murder is out in the open.

“What I’d like to get is a higher trump than Tharbel’s. I’d like to find another inventor like Neswick — one who knew Schuyler Harlew — one who was going to see Mox — but one who hasn’t started yet. That would be a trump card over Tharbel’s. He thinks Neswick’s testimony is O.K., and so do I. If I can play right down his alley, and bring in the kind of evidence he wants to—”

There was an interruption. Detective Sergeant Markham was at the door. He waved to Cardona.

“Fellow to see you, Joe,” he said. “Wise-looking bloke. He’s been reading the newspapers, and wants to talk to you about the Darport case—”

“Bring him in here,” snorted Cardona.

“See?” This was to Inspector Klein. “Even Markham calls it the Darport case. Where do I rate?”

Before the inspector could reply, the visitor had arrived at the door of the office. Cardona and Klein found themselves facing a tall man whose erect posture and steady gaze marked him as an individual of intelligence. His features were the sharp ones that denoted a thinker. His manner was calm and dignified. In his early forties, this gentleman gave the impression of being one who had reached the prime of life.

“Detective Cardona?” inquired the visitor, in a mellow voice.

“Right,” returned Joe. “Do you want to see me?”

“Yes.” The man extended a card. Joe received it and read the name aloud: “Cuthbert Challick.”

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Challick,” expressed Cardona, extending his hand. “This is Inspector Klein.”

CARDONA noted the pressure of the gentleman’s handshake. He was impressed by Challick’s virility. The visitor, after shaking hands with Klein, calmly seated himself with the air of one who has an important story to tell.

“I have just returned to New York,” began Challick. “I spend most of my time out of town; in Maine, Florida, and sometimes abroad. The first news that greeted me in the local newspapers was that of crime which began with the murder of one Schuyler Harlew, and ended with the flight of Jarvis Moxton — called Mox — from his home in Darport.”

“I am handling the New York end of the case,” interposed Cardona.

“So I understand,” asserted Challick. “That is why I have come to you. I am particularly interested in the testimony which the newspapers have attributed to a man named Joel Neswick. He, it appears, knew Harlew, and was told by Harlew to visit Mox. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” replied Cardona. “Neswick’s an inventor.”

“So am I,” declared Challick calmly. “I have been working on various inventions; some of them have proven profitable. My most recent experiments, however, have been with conical mirrors intended to gain heat power from the rays of the sun. My plans have reached the point of practicability.

“That, I suppose, is why I was visited by Schuyler Harlew, who made a special trip to Portland, Maine—”

“You knew Harlew?” Cardona blurted the question.

“Certainly,” assured Challick. “I knew him only as the representative of a man who wished to purchase full rights to my invention—”

“Jarvis Moxton?”

“Mox, according to his own signature.”

Drawing his hand from his inside pocket, Cuthbert Challick passed a folded note to Joe Cardona. The detective opened it. With eager eyes, he read:

“You received this from Schuyler Harlew?” questioned Cardona, looking up from the scrawled lines.

“Yes,” answered Challick. “More than a month ago. I promised to see Mox immediately upon my return to New York. I was to go to Darport after my arrival here. You can imagine my amazement to learn that Harlew had been murdered; that Mox was a fugitive from justice.”

“I want you to go with me to Darport,” announced Cardona.

“I am quite anxious to do so,” agreed Challick. “This matter is of utmost importance to me. You must understand that I was assured a prompt purchase of my invention. I want to know what lies in back of it all.”

“You’ll learn,” said Cardona grimly. “This is great news you’ve brought me, Mr. Challick.”

Turning to Inspector Klein, the star detective brought his fist upon the desk with a resounding punch. There was triumph in Cardona’s eyes.

“I’ve got the edge now, inspector!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got what Junius Tharbel needs — a man whose testimony will bear out what Neswick said; and one who has the proof which Neswick couldn’t show — this note!”

Inspector Klein nodded.

“If this doesn’t blast that wise hick loose,” added Cardona, “I don’t know what will! He thinks he showed me up; he’s going to find out different. Tharbel trumped my ace; this time I’ll cover his deuce spot.”

Cardona turned to Cuthbert Challick. The tall inventor was looking on with an air that indicated perplexity. He seemed to be just on the verge of understanding the excited remarks that Cardona had uttered.

“We’re going to Darport,” announced Cardona. “You and I, Mr. Challick, to get the low-down on this crime.”

Challick nodded his agreement. Cardona’s swarthy features registered an elated smile.

The break had come in Cardona’s favor. In Cuthbert Challick and the letter which the inventor had brought, the ace detective had gained the trump he wanted!