The Case of the Smoking Chimney

Chapter 31

Gramp Wiggins, despite his protests, was herded outside along with Eva Raymond and Milred Duryea as the sheriff, the district attorney, and the deputy sheriff took down the man’s confession.

Gramps, taking Milred’s arm, drifted across the darkened yard, over toward his trailer. The note of wistfulness in his voice seemed more apparent than ever. “Well,” he said, “guess I’ve done all the good I can do. They don’t want me here no more.”

“Don’t talk like that, Gramps.”

“Nope. Time for me to be ramblin’.”

“But, Gramps, aren’t you going to wait? You’ve solved the case. Good heavens, you—”

“Nope,” Gramps said modestly. “I didn’t do a thing... Looks better that way,” he explained as he heard Milred take a quick breath preparatory to an indignant interruption. “Election’s comin’ along. An’ anyway there ain’t nothin’ in particular I did. I just figured out what might have happened. I reckon Sonders came out here to call on Pressman for a private sort of a showdown. That worked into a fight. Pressman was scared of Sonders, an’ he pulled a gun. Sonders grabbed him by the arm an’ doubled his arm back, goin’ to make him drop the gun. Pressman hung on to the gun, an,” in doing that, squeezed the trigger sending a bullet up through his head at just such an angle you wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to have had the gun in his hand when it was fired... But he must have had. If Sonders had got the gun away from him, he wouldn’t have needed to use it, because he was so big an’ strong. If he hadn’t had hold of Pressman, Sonders would have been the one that got shot. Then Sonders started in tryin’ to cover up, because he knew he could never make it appear it had been anythin’ except cold-blooded murder.

“He went in to get True an’ bring him out here. That was where he pulled the alibi stunt that seemed so clever at the time. Evidently he found two keys to that front door. He stuck one of ’em in Pressman’s hand, and kept the other. Then, while True was poundin’ on the back door, Sonders opened the front door and walked in. Afterwards, all he had to do was to lie about hearin’ someone inside the house, to make his statement coincide with True’s... An’, of course, it was Sonders who said he saw someone pullin’ down the curtains as they drove up. True didn’t see that.”

“But why on earth did he come back at three o’clock in the morning?” Milred asked.

Gramps said: “Because while he was runnin’ around in here, that folded sheet of editorial proof dropped out of his pocket. When True asked him for it, he realized he’d lost it. He stuck right close to True until around three o’clock in the morning, so he’d be sure to have an alibi, but he knew that if, when the body was discovered, that marked editorial was found inside the cabin, it would be just the same as though he’d left the signed confession. He had to come back an’ get it, but he didn’t want to come back an’ get it until he knew enough time had elapsed so he’d have a good alibi... Knowin’ the autopsy surgeon could tell just about the time of death.

“An’ there was one other reason. He had to have the shades down when True came out with him, but he had to have ’em up afterwards.”

“I don’t get that,” Milred said.

“Because he had to have the body discovered soon enough so the autopsy surgeon could tell the time of death,” Gramps explained. “Otherwise, his alibi wouldn’t have been no good. Even if it hadn’t been for losin’ that editorial, he’d have had to come back here to pull the shades up an’ leave the lamp burnin’. If they hadn’t discovered the body for two-three days, his slick alibi wouldn’t have been worth a darn.

“While he was foolin’ around with Everett True, killin’ time, he got the idea of makin’ a suicide note, not to make the authorities believe it had been suicide, but to make ’em believe the murderer didn’t know that Reedley was Pressman. That would give him just a little more chance of divertin’ suspicion in case anybody ever became suspicious about that story of the man who was movin’ around in the house.

“Probably he hadn’t been here over a minute or two when Eva Raymond came walkin’ in. He’d lit the lamp, raised the shades, an’ picked up the proof sheet of the editorial when he heard the scream an’ the sound of feet runnin’ off the porch... It’s a darn good thing Eva Raymond ran... Sonders made his choice when he decided to cover up. After that, he couldn’t back up. When he heard Eva Raymond scream, he knew it was her life or his. He might not have killed her, but — well, he came back here tonight when he knew that I’d gone out to the cabin with Eva Raymond.”

“But how did he know that it was Eva Raymond that was on the porch?” Milred asked.

Gramps said: “A compact marked ‘E.R.’ — an’ then he seen me gallivantin’ around with a girl named Eva Raymond. I saw to that,” Gramps said, grinning. “I knew that Sonders an’ True were at that political rally tonight. I made it a point to ask ’em whether the person they heard in the cabin might not have been a woman — intimating I thought that person was the one who did the killing. That was gettin’ pretty close to home for Sonders.

“I figured,” Gramps announced with obvious pride, “that that bait would fetch him out here, at least to see what was goin’ on... It did... Well, I’ll be shovin’ off. You tell Frank goodbye for me, an’ tell him that I don’t enter in this case at all. He an’ the sheriff did all the solvin’ of it. An’ tell him to check up on Harvey Stanwood. I found that cut paper in his automobile just like I said I did. It was probably a practice attempt to see what he could do with it. Guess he figured he’d plant a cut newspaper with Mrs. Pressman to sort of drag her in for some third-degree stuff, so there wouldn’t be too much inquiry about himself. An’ I wouldn’t be a mite s’prised if a third degree would have got Mrs. Pressman in kind of a spot — then Frank might have had to prosecute her an’ maybe lost a case, or p’r’aps got an innocent woman sent to the pen.

“An’ you tell Frank to give that Eva Raymond girl a break. She’s a darn nice kid! Told me I wasn’t old at all, said I looked to be just in the prime of life. What do you know about that?”

Milred laughed. “I know all about that,” she said.

Gramps seemed hurt.

“When will we see you again, Gramps?” she asked hastily, trying to atone for her laughter.

“How in hell should I know?” Gramps said. “I don’t travel on no schedule... I’ll be parkin’ in your driveway sometime when I’m driftin’ by.”

Milred said: “Gramps, you’re getting lonely. You want a home. Why don’t you come live with us?”

“Lonely!” Gramps shrilled in high indignation. “Me? Settle down? Hell, no! An’ I ain’t lonely, anyway. I ain’t got no use for a home. You see that Eva gets home. I’m pullin’ out.”

Milred looked up at him, her eyes moist. “It’s a mighty generous thing you’re doing, Gramps... How about kissing your grandchild goodbye?”

“Yep,” Gramps said jauntily. “No Wiggins ever turned down a chance to kiss a good-lookin’ dame — not even if she was related to him... An’ me— Hell, I’m just in the prime of life.”