Murder Every Hour

CHAPTER V MURDER AT SEVEN

THE Hotel Gilderoy was an establishment that catered to resident guests. Its lobby was quiet, but spacious. A policeman, in charge there, looked inconspicuous when Barth and his companions entered.

In fact, the officer was not the first person whom the commissioner saw. Barth’s immediate gaze settled upon an elderly, gray-haired gentleman who was standing by the desk, talking to the clerk. The commissioner recognized this individual.

“Hiram Caffley!”

The gray-haired man turned about as he heard Barth’s ejaculation. An expression of relief showed upon Caffley’s thin, drooping features as he stepped forward to shake hands with the commissioner.

“Meet Mr. Cranston,” said Barth to Caffley, “A friend of mine, accompanying me on an investigation. This is Mr. Caffley, Cranston. Alloy manufacturer — makes metals for airplanes, What’s the name of that alloy, Caffley?”

“Ferroluminum,” replied Caffley, in a methodical tone. “But there is no time to talk about it at present, commissioner. I am more concerned over the shocking death of Newell Frieth.”

“The man murdered here? Did you know him, Caffley?”

“I had an appointment with him this evening, commissioner. At seven o’clock. The house detective and I discovered his body.”

“Where? In his room?”

“In his suite on the third floor. We summoned the police. The house detective — his name is Lewis — is up there now. I have been awaiting your arrival, Commissioner.”

“We shall go up at once. Where are the elevators? Ah, yes. I see Cardona has found them. Come with us, Cranston.”

THE group reached the third floor to find another officer waiting. A door was open not far from the elevator. They entered a living room, went through to a bedroom and stopped there to view a sprawled figure on the floor.

Newell Frieth’s body was crumpled face forward. Black hair formed a mop above white-shirted shoulders. Gray carpeting was stained with blood.

Cardona approached the body; a tiny glimmer caught his eye. The detective stooped and pointed.

“Another percussion cap, commissioner,” said Cardona, solemnly. “The killer’s gotten here ahead of us.”

“The killer?” queried Caffley.

“A fiendish murderer!” explained Barth. “This is his third victim within three hours.”

“His third!”

“Yes. He murdered a man named Jeremy Lentz; and another named Howard Morath.”

“Lentz the inventor? Morath the lawyer?”

“Yes. Did you know them?”

Barth spoke eagerly as he turned to Caffley. The commissioner’s face showed concern as he saw a terrified stare appear upon the manufacturer’s droopy features. The Shadow’s eyes were keen; they looked like burning orbs from the countenance of Cranston. While Cardona joined Barth in a troubled stare, The Shadow alone divined the words that were due from Caffley’s lips.

“I did not know them.” Caffley spoke slowly, mechanically. “But Frieth knew them. He and they were associated in the same enterprise. It was on account of it that I made my appointment with Frieth.”

“Sit down, Caffley,” urged Barth. “Take that big chair. A glass of water, Cardona. Tell me, Caffley; you say the three dead men were associated? Were there others with them?”

“Not to my knowledge, commissioner.”

“Ah! That is, good. Do you hear that, Cranston?” Barth turned toward his friend; The Shadow’s eyes had lost their gleam. “Three men, associated; but only three. We can hope that murder has ended.”

Cardona arrived with the glass of water. Caffley sipped it; then settled back in his chair. He reached in his inside pocket and drew out an envelope.

“Jeremy Lentz,” explained Caffley, “was the inventor of an alloy called Duro Metal. Howard Morath was the attorney applying for its patent. The man who lies dead before you — Newell Frieth — was the promoter who sought to market the new commodity.”

“What is Duro Metal?” asked Barth. “I mean, what is its particular value?”

“It resembles ferroluminum — my own product — which I spoke about in the lobby, when you entered. But it can be produced more cheaply than ferroluminum. For that reason, Frieth sought to sell me the patent rights.”

“You came here to buy them, tonight?”

“I had already bought them. For a high price. Two million dollars.”

“Two million dollars! In one payment?”

“The contract called for ten payments of two hundred thousand dollars each, on a ten-months’ basis. Here, commissioner, is the contract” — Caffley drew a folded paper from the envelope — “and with it, my certified check for two hundred thousand dollars.”

Barth spread out the contract and glanced over it, holding it so his friend Cranston could read it also. Barth pointed out one clause; he turned to catch Cranston’s nod.

“According to the contract, Caffley,” observed Barth, “you were to receive all the documents pertaining to the special metals used in the alloy called Duro Metal.”

“That is right,” nodded Caffley. “I signed the contract. Frieth signed it and had Morath and Lentz do the same. Then he returned it to me and made this appointment. I was to appear with the contract and the first certified check. Frieth, in return, was to deliver all existing papers that pertained to Duro Metal.”

BARTH was about to put a question when he heard someone coming from the living room. Two men entered; one was the police surgeon who had been at Lentz’s; the other was a keen-faced individual who introduced himself as Lewis, the house dick of the Hotel Gilderoy.

The surgeon began an examination of Frieth’s body; meanwhile, Barth ordered Cardona to be ready to take notes while the hotel detective gave testimony.

“I’ve got an idea about this case, commissioner,” began Lewis, in a brisk tone. “Maybe I should have shown some action on it; but I thought that duty belonged to the police.”

“That was good judgment,” commanded Barth. “You did well to await our arrival. Let us hear your testimony, my man.”

“Mr. Caffley has already given his statement?”

“Yes. Have you anything to add, Caffley?”

“Only this, commissioner,” replied the alloy manufacturer. “Before Lewis commences, I might tell you the simple details as I saw them. As I mentioned, I had an appointment with Frieth, set for seven o’clock. On that account, I did not go home to Long Island. I remained at my office until half past five, holding conference with representatives of two aircraft corporations.

“Judge Channing was present as advisor for one of the companies. The judge and I left together and rode by taxi to his club. He wanted me to dine with him; but it was nearly six o’clock and I knew that I could not break away within an hour.

“So I left the judge and went to dinner alone. At that, I was a trifle late when I arrived here at the Hotel Gilderoy.

“I inquired at the desk for Mr. Frieth and learned that he had come in at quarter of seven. They rang his room; but he did not reply. I told the clerk that Frieth expected me; but further ringing proved of no avail.

“I insisted then that I must see the man. The clerk called the house detective. Lewis and I came up to this suite. Lewis knocked for a full minute. There was no answer, so he unlocked the door and we entered. We found Frieth’s body.”

Solemnly, Caffley indicated the corpse. The police surgeon had turned the body face upward, revealing a wound that matched those that Lentz and Morath had received.

“I was down in the lobby when Mr. Caffley came in,” stated Lewis. “I heard him talking to Shaw, who was on the desk. Even before Shaw called me into the discussion, I knew it must be an urgent matter.

“I hadn’t been in the lobby when Frieth came in at quarter of seven. But when I saw the body, I knew, of course, that he couldn’t have been dead for more than fifteen minutes. I didn’t see how anybody could have done a sneak down and out of the building — that is, by way of the lobby. It looked to me like somebody must have been laying up here, waiting.

“I’ll tell you why. On account of that door over there. See it? The one with the spring lock? Well, sir, that door leads into an inside fire exit. Right down to a little cement passageway alongside of this hotel.”

As Lewis paused, Cardona pounced across the room and unlatched the door at the rear of the bedroom. Opening the barrier, Cardona revealed a darkened stairway of fireproof construction.

“Well, well!” exclaimed Barth. “This is interesting! What is your theory, Lewis? Do you think that the murderer came up by this stairway?”

“He could have,” affirmed the house dick. “Only thing is, how could he have unlocked the door from the other side? You can unlatch it from in here; but from the—”

“Looks like this lock has been picked,” interrupted Cardona. “Take a look, commissioner. See those scratches? Somebody jammed a tool into it.”

“So it appears,” nodded Barth. “You are right, Cardona. The murderer must have effected entry by this route.”

“There’s another locked door at the bottom of the stairs,” declared Lewis. “Latched on the inside, the same as this one. The idea is so people can go out in case of fire; but nobody can come in.”

“Let us go below,” decided Barth.

The investigators formed a procession down the stairs. Cardona led the way, using a flashlight all along the route. He found the lower door locked and unlatched it as he had done with the one above. Joe blinked his light on the outer lock.

“This one’s scratched, too,” stated the detective. “The guy had to pick it first. No signs of fingerprints, though. That’s tough; but maybe—”

Joe interrupted himself with a sudden exclamation. He had turned the flashlight to the cement of the passage. Excitedly, he pointed out a new clue. It lay in a muddy spot a few feet from the door.

The object was the flattened stump of a cheroot. Someone had apparently dropped it to the cement and had extinguished it by pressing his heel upon it. For the cheroot butt was surrounded by the imprint of a rubber heel, with diamond-shaped markings.

“It matches again, commissioner,” declared Cardona. “Right to a dot. The same guy we figured on before. At Lentz’s office and Morath’s apartment. The cheroot and the heel print right together.”

“Our trail continues,” affirmed Barth, wisely. “Good work, Cardona. Have a flashlight photograph taken of this evidence. Place an officer in charge; then meet me in the lobby. We must question Shaw, the clerk.”

FIVE minutes later, Wainwright Barth was staring eagle-eyed at the phlegmatic countenance of Shaw. The desk clerk was corroborating the statements of Hiram Caffley and the house detective. But he had an added piece of information.

“At about half past six,” stated Shaw, “a stranger came in and asked for Mr. Frieth. I told him that Mr. Frieth had not come in. He stated that he would wait.”

“Can you describe the man?” questioned Barth.

“No,” returned Shaw. “I was sorting mail when he spoke to me. I should say his voice was harsh. Rather abrupt. When he went away from the desk, he took that chair yonder.”

The clerk pointed to a large chair that was placed in a most obscure position of the lobby. The back of the chair was toward the desk.

“I saw him sitting there,” added Shaw, “but his back was toward me. All I noticed was his dark hat and his gray overcoat.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Barth. “He was wearing a gray overcoat?”

“Yes. A light gray. Well, commissioner, when Mr. Frieth came in, I had forgotten about this fellow. It wasn’t until Mr. Frieth had gone to the elevator that I remembered the man in the gray overcoat. I looked for him; he was gone.”

“He went out before Frieth came in?”

“I don’t know. It seems like I saw him only a minute or two before. I thought that maybe he had spoken to Frieth and had gone upstairs with him.”

“What about that, Kelly?” questioned Lewis, the house dick, turning to a uniformed elevator operator.

“Nobody went up with Mr. Frieth,” replied Kelly. “He was alone when I took him up to the third.”

Barth stalked over to look at the chair in which the gray-coated stranger had been seated. Cardona did the same; The Shadow followed in the leisurely fashion that characterized Lamont Cranston.

“It links, Cardona,” confided Barth. “Our man again — the killer in gray. He must have waited here to make sure that Frieth came in.”

“And then slid out,” added Joe. “Around to the fire exit. To pick the locks and walk in on Frieth. That’s when he dropped the cheroot and stepped on it. it shows us something else, too, commissioner.”

“What is that?”

“Why Frieth was in the bedroom. He must have heard the killer working at the lock and decided to come in and investigate it.”

“A tall man in gray. Smokes cheroots and wears shoes with Apex rubber heels. Uses an old muzzle-loading pistol. Good lock picker. Hm-m-m. We should trace him promptly, Cardona, especially with those finger impressions to aid us. The ones we found at Lentz’s.”

“And maybe the spectacle case will help, commissioner. This fellow may have been the bird who dropped it in the elevator at the Belgaria.”

HIRAM CAFFLEY had approached. The millionaire’s face was troubled as he spoke to Wainwright Barth.

“This is not only murder, commissioner,” asserted Caffley, seriously. “Robbery must have been the motive in back of it. Those Duro Metal documents are obviously not in Frieth’s suite.”

“That’s right!” exclaimed Barth. “Jove, Cardona! That was the killer’s motive! He was after the papers. Come! Let us make a thorough search of Frieth’s room. There is still a chance that they might be there.”

“Lentz first,” remarked Cardona. “Yeah; that fits. He was the inventor. Then came Morath, the lawyer. Frieth last of all. Only one thing, though: none of these places were rifled. The killer didn’t make a search.”

“Perhaps he knew that Frieth already had the papers,” suggested Caffley. “Or he might have demanded them from those other men, to find out that they did not have them.”

“Then why did he kill them?” growled Cardona.

“Tut — tut,” responded Barth. “Put on your thinking cap, Cardona. The murderer needed to conceal his identity. He had no other choice. Another point” — Barth’s eyes were gleaming — “is the fact that Lentz and Morath would have known facts concerning Duro Metal. Am I right, Caffley?”

“I think you are, commissioner,” returned the manufacturer. “Even with the papers stolen, Lentz or Frieth could have supplied the data. But with all three slain, nothing can be learned pertaining to the alloy that I had purchased. I have been robbed of a commercial product which I considered to be worth more than the two million dollars that I had agreed to pay for it.”

“Come,” adjured Barth, impatiently. “Even though our search will probably prove fruitless, we must take up the task. Let us go to Frieth’s suite.”

THE commissioner stalked toward the elevators. Cardona and Caffley followed. The Shadow alone remained by the large chair. A thin smile showed upon his disguised lips. Facing the chair, The Shadow was looking toward the floor at his right.

There, on the tiling, he saw flecks of powdered gray. Ashes from a cigarette — not the residue of a cheroot. Evidence that fitted with his finding of ashes at Lentz’s. A whispered laugh, barely audible, crept from The Shadow’s lips.

Once more, The Shadow knew that the law had found planted evidence, while he had uncovered a genuine clue. The Shadow was considering the matter of the man in the gray overcoat. He had learned an important fact pertaining to that unknown person.

Three murders — one every hour. The linking of Lentz, Morath and Frieth proved, however, that the chain was ended. There would be no more killings; but odd developments would be due.

The Shadow could afford to await them, while he performed a chosen quest: namely, the location of the man in gray. The Shadow was thinking of possible ways to his objective; steps that would carry him further and more accurately than the course the law would follow.

Those thoughts were the reason for The Shadow’s whispered laugh.