The Case of the Deadly Toy

Chapter One

With the politeness that characterized everything he did, Mervin Selkirk said to Norda Allison, “Excuse me, please.”

Then he leaned forward and slapped the child’s face — hard.

“Little gentlemen,” he said to his seven-year-old son, “don’t interrupt when people are talking.”

Then Mervin Selkirk settled back in his chair, lit a cigarette, turned to Norda Allison and said, “As you were saying...?”

But Norda couldn’t go on. She was looking at the hurt eyes of the child, and realized suddenly that that wasn’t the first time his father had slapped him like that.

Humiliated, fighting back bitter tears in order to be “a little man,” the boy turned away, paused in the doorway to say, “Excuse me, please,” then left the room.

“That’s his mother’s influence,” Mervin Selkirk explained. “She believes in discipline from a theoretical standpoint, but she can’t be bothered putting it into practical execution. Whenever Robert returns from visiting with her in Los Angeles, it’s a job getting him back on the beam.”

Suddenly in that instant Norda saw Mervin Selkirk in his true character. The indolent, smiling politeness, the affable courtesy of his manner, was a mask. Beneath the partially contemptuous, partially amused but always polite manner with which he regarded the world, was a sadistic streak, an inherent selfishness which covered itself with a veneer of extreme politeness.

Abruptly Norda was on her feet, stunned not only by her discovery, but by the clarity with which her new realization of Mervin’s character came into mental focus.

“I’m afraid I’m bushed, Mervin,” she said. “I’m going to have to leave you now. I’ve been fighting a beastly headache, and I’m going home to see if some aspirin and a little rest won’t help.”

He jumped up to stand beside her. His left hand reached out and caught her wrist in a tight grip.

“Your headache was rather sudden, Norda.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

He hesitated then, just as he had hesitated for a moment before slapping the child. She felt him gathering forces for an onslaught.

Then it came with no preliminary.

“So you can’t take it.”

“Can’t take what?”

“Disciplining a child. You’re a softie.”

“I’m not a softie, but there are ways of disciplining children,” she said. “Robert is sensitive; he’s intelligent and he’s proud. You could have waited until I had left and explained to him that it wasn’t gentlemanly to interrupt, then he’d have accepted the correction.

“You didn’t do that. You humiliated him in front of me. You undermined his self-respect, and—”

“That will do,” Mervin Selkirk said coldly. “I don’t need a lecture on parental discipline from an unmarried woman.”

“I think,” Norda said quietly, “I’m just beginning to really know you.”

“You don’t know me yet,” he told her, his eyes threatening and hard. “I want you, and what I want I get. Don’t think you can walk out on me. I’ve noticed lately that you’ve been talking quite a bit about that Benedict chap who works in the office with you. Perhaps you don’t realize how frequently you’re quoting him. It’s Nate this and Nate that— Remember this, Norda, you’ve announced your engagement to me. I won’t let any woman humiliate me. You’ve promised to marry me and you’re going through with it.”

For a moment his fingers were like steel on her wrists, his eyes were deadly. And then, almost instantly, the mask came back. He said contritely, “But I shouldn’t bother you with these things when you’re not feeling well. Come dear, I’ll take you home... I’m really sorry about Robert. That is, I’m sorry if I hurt you. But, you see, I happen to know Robert quite well, and I think I know exactly how he should be handled.”

That night, after giving the matter a lot of thought, Norda wrote a formal letter breaking her engagement to Mervin Selkirk.

Three nights later she went out with Nathan Benedict for the first time. They went to the restaurant which Nate knew was Norda’s favorite. There was no incident. Two nights later Mervin called to ask if he might talk with her. “It won’t do any good,” she told him. “Anyway, I’m going out tonight.”

“With Nate?” he asked. “I understand you let him take you to our restaurant.”

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped and slammed the phone back into its cradle.

Later on when the phone rang repeatedly she didn’t answer it.

Nate came for her promptly at eight.

He was tall, slender in build, with wavy, dark-brown hair and expressive eyes. They went once more to the same restaurant.

There was some delay at the table reservation. It was suggested they wait in the cocktail lounge.

Norda didn’t see Mervin Selkirk until it was too late, nor could she swear afterward that he had actually thrust out his foot so that Nathan Benedict stumbled.

There were plenty of witnesses to what happened after that.

Mervin Selkirk got to his feet, said, “Watch who you’re pushing,” and hit Benedict flush on the jaw.

As Benedict went down with a broken jaw, two of Mervin’s friends, who were seated at the table, jumped up to grab his arms. “Take it easy, Merv,” one of them said.

There was a commotion, with waiters swarming around them, and eventually the police. Norda had been certain she had seen a glint of metal as Mervin Selkirk’s right hand had flashed across in that carefully timed, perfectly executed smash.

The surgeon who wired Benedict’s broken jaw was confident the injuries had been caused by brass knuckles. However, police had searched Selkirk at Norda’s insistence and had found no brass knuckles; nor were there any on the friend who was with Selkirk and who volunteered to let the police search him. The second friend who had been with Selkirk had disappeared before the police came. He had had an engagement, Selkirk explained and he didn’t want to be detained by a lot of formalities. He would, however, be available if anybody tried to make anything of it.

Selkirk’s story was quite simple. He had been sitting with his friends. His back was to the door. Benedict, in passing, had not only stepped on his foot, but had kicked back at his shin. He had got to his feet Benedict had doubled his fist. Mervin Selkirk admitted he had beat Benedict to the punch.

“What else was there to do?” he asked.

A week after that, Norda Allison began to get the letters. They were mailed from Los Angeles, sent air mail to San Francisco. They were in plain stamped envelopes. Each envelope contained newspaper clippings; sometimes one, sometimes two or three. All of the clippings dealt with stories of those tragedies which are so common in the press: The divorced husband who couldn’t live without his wife, who had followed her as she walked from the bus and shot her on the street. The jilted suitor who had gone on a drinking spree, had then invaded the apartment where his former fiancée lived and fired five shots into her body. The drink-crazed man who had walked into the office where his former girl friend was working, had said, “I can’t live without you. If I can’t have you, no one else will.” Desipite her screams and pleading, he had shot her through the head, then turned the gun on himself.

Norda, naturally, had seen such stories in the press, but since they hadn’t concerned her, she had read them casually. Now she was startled to find how many such cases could be assembled when one diligently clipped stories from the papers of half a dozen large cities.

She went to a lawyer. The lawyer called in the postal authorities. The postal authorities went to work and the letters continued to come.

It was impossible to get any proof. The person mailing the letters evidently wore gloves. There was never so much as the smudge of a fingerprint which could be developed in iodine vapor. The envelopes were mailed in drop boxes in various parts of Los Angeles. Norda Allison’s name and address had been set in type on a small but efficient printing machine, such as those frequently given children for Christmas.

At the suggestion of Norda’s lawyer, Lorraine Selkirk Jennings, Mervin’s divorced wife, who was now living in Los Angeles with her second husband, was consulted. She remembered having given Robert a very expensive printing press for Christmas the year before. Robert had taken it to San Francisco when he went to visit his father. It was still there. Mervin Selkirk had, it seemed, enjoyed the press even more than his son.

This information gave Norda’s lawyer ground for jubilation. “Now we’ll get him,” he gloated. Norda made an affidavit. Her attorney handled it from there. Police served a search warrant on Mervin Selkirk.

The printing press was located without difficulty. From the condition of the rollers, it was evident it hadn’t been used in some time. Moreover, the experts gave it as their opinion that the envelopes had most certainly not been addressed on that press. The type was of a different sort.

Mervin Selkirk was excessively polite to the officers. He was only too glad to let them search the place. He was surprised to find Miss Allison had been having trouble. They had been engaged. He was quite fond of her. The engagement had been broken over a minor matter. Miss Allison was working altogether too hard and had been under great nervous tension. She had not been like herself for some weeks before the engagement was broken. If there was anything Mervin could do, he wanted it understood he was willing to help at any time. He would be only too glad to render any financial assistance in tracking down the persons who were annoying Miss Allison. The police were welcome to drop in at any time. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t need any search warrant. His door would always be open to the authorities. And would they please convey to Miss Allison his sincere sympathy. He admitted he had tried to call her himself a couple of times, but she had hung up as soon as she recognized his voice.

It wasn’t until Lorraine Selkirk Jennings called long distance that Norda’s frayed nerves began to give way.

“Was it the printing press?” she asked Norda.

“No,” Norda said. “The press was there all right but it hadn’t been used for some time.”

“That’s just like him,” Lorraine said. “I know exactly how his mind works. He saw Robert’s press. He then went out and got one similar to it, but with different type. He probably printed about two hundred envelopes in advance, then he took the press out on his yacht and dropped it overboard. He knew you’d suspect him; that you’d find out about Robert’s press and get a search warrant — that’s his way of showing you how diabolically clever he is. I’m surprised you went with him as long as you did without recognizing the sort of man he is beneath his mask.”

Norda resented Lorraine’s tone. “At least I found out in time to avoid marrying him.”

Lorraine laughed. “You were smarter than I was,” she admitted. “But you’ll remember I dropped you a note telling you not to be fooled.”

“I thought it was the result of jealousy,” Norda said somewhat ruefully.

“Heavens, I’m happily married again,” Lorraine said. “I was trying to save you from what I’d gone through with him... If I could only get sole custody of Robert, I wouldn’t want anything more.”

Norda said apologetically, “Of course, Mervin told me stories about you. I was in love with him — or thought I was, and it was only natural for me to believe him, since I’d never met you.”

“I understand,” Lorraine agreed sympathetically. “Let’s not underestimate either the man’s cleverness or his ruthless determination, my dear. He’ll stop at nothing and neither will his family.

“I tried to stick it out for Robert’s sake, but I could take only so much. I left him when Robert was four and returned to Los Angeles, since it was my home.

“The family is even more powerful here than in San Francisco. They retained a battery of clever lawyers, hired detectives, and they threw mud all over me. Some of it stuck. Three witnesses perjured themselves about Robert and about me. Mervin managed to get part-time custody of Robert. He doesn’t really care about Robert. He only wanted Robert so he could hurt me. I’m happily married now to a normal man, who’s normally inconsiderate, who grumbles when things don’t go to suit him and puts the blame on me for some of his own mistakes. I can’t begin to tell you what an unspeakable relief it is.

“I’m terribly glad you broke the engagement, but don’t underestimate Mervin. He simply can’t stand being humiliated and he’ll hound you until finally he gets you where you lose the will to resist.”

“Will he... I mean, is he... dangerous?” Norda asked.

“Of course he’s dangerous,” Lorraine said. “Perhaps not in the way you think, but he’s scheming, cunning, completely selfish and cruel. He had detectives shadowing every move I made... Of course you’re not vulnerable that way, but be careful.”

Norda thanked her and hung up. She remembered the torrid charges Mervin had hurled against Lorraine at the time of the divorce. She remembered something of the testimony in the sensational trial, and Lorraine’s tearful protests of innocence. At the time, Norda had not even met Mervin Selkirk and reading the newspapers she had considered Lorraine’s charges of a frame-up the last ditch defense of an erring wife who had been detected in indiscretions... after all, where there had been so much smoke there must have been some fire.

Now Norda wasn’t so certain.

It was at this time that Norda made a discovery about law enforcement.

The officers were nice about it; were, in fact, exceedingly sympathetic. But they pointed out that they had their hands full trying to apprehend persons who had broken the law. They didn’t have enough men to furnish “protection” on a day-to-day basis.

To be sure, if they had definite evidence that a crime was about to be committed, they would assign men on what was technically known as a “stake-out.” That was the most they could do.

They knew hardly a day passed without some jealous, estranged husband, some jilted suitor taking a gun and committing murder. The police would like to prevent those murders, but, as they pointed out, for every murder that was actually committed there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of threats by neurotic individuals who were simply trying to “throw a scare” into the recipient of their affections and so frighten her into reconciliation.

It was, the police pointed out, something like the women who threaten to commit suicide by taking sleeping pills if their lovers don’t return. Many women actually had carried out such threats and had committed suicide. Many thousands of others did not.

The police told Norda that it took evidence to convict a person of crime. It took far more than mere guesswork. There had to be evidence which was legally admissible in a court of law, and, moreover, such evidence had to prove the guilt of the accused beyond all reasonable doubt.

The police suggested that Norda Allison pay no attention to the clippings she was receiving in the mail. After all, they pointed out, the situation had existed now for some time and if Mervin Selkirk had really intended to resort to violence, he would have done so quite a bit earlier.

Norda reminded them of Nathan Benedict’s broken jaw, but the police shrugged that aside. After all, the evidence in that case was in sharp conflict. Even Nathan Benedict admitted that he had “stumbled” over Selkirk’s foot. He had felt that Selkirk had deliberately tripped him; but the cocktail lounge was crowded, the light was poor, Benedict had been looking towards the bar and not down on the floor, and he could only surmise what must have happened. Since Selkirk was abundantly able to respond in damages, Benedict’s recourse was a civil action for violent and unprovoked assault.

It was at this point that Lorraine Selkirk Jennings again telephoned Norda Allison.

“Norda,” she said excitedly, “I have news for you. I can’t tell it to you over the phone. It’s something we can do that I feel certain will be of a lot of help. You can help me and I can help you. Can’t you possibly come down? If you could catch a plane after office hours, my husband and I could meet you, and you could get back on the first plane in the morning. Or you could come Friday, have the week end for a talk and get back without being all tired out.”

Lorraine sounded full of enthusiasm, but refused to give Norda even a hint of what she had in mind. So Norda agreed to fly down on Friday night, stay over Saturday and come back Sunday.

The next day she received two tickets in the mail, a flight down on United, a return flight on Western. There was a note from Lorraine:

Norda read the letter with amusement. She saw no reason to pay out all that money in cab fares. She confided in Nate and it was Nate who picked her up in his car an hour and a half before the plane was scheduled to leave, made a series of complicated maneuvers to be certain he was not being followed, and then drove her to the airport.