The Headless Lady

Chapter Seventeen Fond Farewell

The cot in my cell was a wooden shelf with a leather-covered mattress on it. I sat down and lit a cigarette. Then, for the first time, I noticed that we had company. Farther down the line of cells toward the rear of the cell-block, two cells were occupied. One held a heavy-set, blue-jowled individual whose round bulbous nose shone like a red danger signal. I guessed that he might be the town drunk. He stood at the door of his cell watching us interestedly. The other man, lying on his cot, also regarded us, half-raised on one elbow. His languid posture, his sleepy drawling voice, and his ill-kempt clothes suggested a knight of the road who was doing his 30 days for vagrancy.

Weary Willie, when he saw me light up, asked, “How about a smoke down this way, buddy? We ran out a couple days back and we’re both too flat to buy more.”

I took two cigarettes from my pack, put my arm between the bars, and pitched them one at a time down the corridor. They managed to reach them and snake them in. I looked across at Merlini, who was absorbed in an examination of the lock on his cell door.

“What I can’t understand,” I told him, “is why you didn’t shuck those handcuffs long ago and make a break for it instead of waiting until we landed in this pocket edition of Alcatraz. Don’t tell me the Chief has a new style of cuff that you can’t beat?”

“No,” he answered. “They were a cinch. But I didn’t want to impress our hosts with any escape tricks too soon. They might have made it really inconvenient.”

I stared at him. “Inconvenient? Don’t look now, but we seem to be pretty completely surrounded by case-hardened steel bars and an electrically controlled double-lock system. Even if you still had your picklocks and could beat that first lock on your door, you’d still have to project some ectoplasm or something to reach that wall switch that controls the other bolt. It’s a good 25 feet from us both and 10 feet outside the cell-block itself.”

“But it could be worse. Hooper might have left Stevens in here to watch us. About the only way out then would have been to hypnotize him, and he doesn’t look like a particularly good subject.”

“We’re so lucky!” I said. “That leaves us three or four ways out, I suppose.”

“Well, it leaves one good one at least, and we’re taking it. I’ve got to get a look at those newspaper stories O’Halloran has been jabbering about. I want to know what Maxie and the Duke have to do with this case. Somehow I don’t like not knowing. It’s something Gavigan apparently doesn’t want us messing around in. And I want to mess. If I don’t, and quickly, the devil might find more work for the murderer’s idle hands to—” Abruptly he stopped, gave me a queer, thoughtful look and added, “Idle hands — idle hand — Ross, that does it!”

“Does what? Get us out of here?”

“It tells me my hunch about the murderer’s identity is correct. I think we’d better go away from here right now.”

“Good,” I cracked. “After you, Gaston.”

Merlini all this time had been fiddling with the lock on his door. He fiddled a moment longer, then suddenly straightened up and said, “Okay, Ross, I’m set. Now do exactly what I tell you and don’t argue. We’re in a hurry. Take this cigarette lighter”—he scaled it across the floor and under the bars into my cell—“rip that mattress cushion on your cot a bit, light the kapok inside, and as soon as you have a fair blaze, holler, ‘fire.’ And rattle your tin cup against the bars. That’s the customary prison etiquette.”

I would have agreed then that Hooper was right and that Merlini was off his chump except that I’ve heard him issue cockeyed orders before — orders that later proved fairly sensible. I obeyed.

Our jailmates down the way watched me wonderingly. Rednose said, “Hell, those two have gone stir-bugs already.”

Weary Willie said, “Look like a couple of dope-hops to me.”

When I had fanned up a little blaze and a good deal of smoke Merlini said, “That’s fine. Your story is that you dropped your cigarette. Now turn in the alarm.”

I sang out and got action immediately. The very thought of fire in his nice new jail brought Hooper on the double-quick, and nearly everyone else — the Captain, O’Halloran, Stevens, and others.

Hooper fumbled and swore at the lock on the cell-block door. As he got it open and came on the run toward me, he yelled, “Somebody throw that switch!”

Stevens reached it, and a moment later Hooper pulled my door open. Robbins ran in with a sloshing water bucket and threw the contents on the cot. Hooper poured a lavalike flow of language at me that was so blistering I was afraid it would touch off a much larger conflagration. I wondered if Merlini was hoping that the Chief’s wrath would melt the bars off the cell. It nearly did.

“You’d better throw another bucket of water on the Chief,” I told Robbins, “before he goes up in smoke.”

“We’ve got a charge on you now, Harte,” Schafer said. “Willful destruction of county property. Laugh that off.”

Hooper relieved me of the cigarettes and the lighter, placed me in the next cell down the line, and slammed the door angrily. This time the sound seemed more irrevocable than ever.

Merlini, standing close against the bars of his cell door, watched us and made no comment. Hooper gave him a piece of his mind in passing, for good measure. He relocked the cell-block door and threw the switch. Then, with the others, he went out again, still muttering.

“Well,” I said then, “here we are again. Why didn’t you do whatever it was you had in mind?”

“I did,” Merlini said quietly.

He pushed gently at the door of his cell. It opened and he stepped out.

He went immediately to the cell-block door, thrust his hand between the bars and, from the outside, inserted an angular buttonhook-shaped probe into the lock’s keyhole.

“Where the devil did you hide that picklock?” I asked, my mouth ajar. “Swallow it?”

“No. When we first came in I took a good look at these locks. They’re Courtney-Brema Company’s latest model. Then, my hand in my pocket, I slipped the picklock I figured I’d need off the key ring and palmed it. Perhaps you’ve noticed that all my picks have a small sharp hook on their upper end. There’s a reason. While we were undressing I edged up near Hooper, used a little primary misdirection to keep his eyes front, and hung the picklock on the back of his coat. It’s slender and black and wouldn’t have shown up much against his dark-blue uniform even if he had turned around. When he ushered me into my cell I lifted it again. I used the Chief himself as a gimmick. It’s a simple dodge and an old one. It’s highly recommended and endorsed by leading professionals in Jail, Bank-Vault, and Underwater Escapes, issue number 16 of my dollar booklets, ‘The Strange Secrets Series.’”

“Stop advertising,” I said. “What about the electrically controlled double lock? I saw the Chief throw the switch.” I glanced at the door of Merlini’s cell. The heavy switch-controlled bolt was projecting in the locked position. In opening his door, Merlini had apparently caused solid steel to pass through solid steel!

The cell-block door opened as I spoke, and Merlini went quickly to the wall switch and pulled it down. The bolts on all the cells slid back. He returned and got to work on the individual lock on my cell.

“I had my door unlocked, except for the electrical device,” he explained, “before you called Hooper in with your fire alarm. As soon as Stevens threw the switch I was free of my cell. When they left, and just as Hooper reached up to throw the switch again, I pushed my door open half an inch. The bolt on my door slid over without engaging. Hooper’s clink would be a mite harder to leave if that cell-block door was on the electrical hookup too. Courtney-Brema Company gave him short weight.”

Merlini’s attack on my lock was swift and sure. As he finished his explanation, the door swung wide and I stepped out into the corridor with him.

From down the corridor a voice said, “Say, old-timer, don’t forget us.”

“l haven’t,” Merlini said, going toward them. He began to work on Weary Willie’s door.

“You’re a right gee,” that gentleman said appreciatively. “This is really swell of you.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Merlini replied. “You aren’t going far. Just down to my cell. You and your friend are going to take our places so that if the Chief gets nosy as he promised, he’ll think we’re still here and sleeping. Keep under your blanket and keep your faces out of sight. He may not notice your absence because right now we’re on his mind almost exclusively.”

“Yeah? Do we look like chumps? If you don’t take us with you, we’ll sing out right now. His Nibs might give us a few privileges if we prevented a couple of big-shots like you two from lamming. He might even fix it so’s our lags were cut.” By lags he meant sentences.

“Well,” Merlini said, “you know him better than I do. But I doubt that. He’s more likely to throw you into solitary for life so you won’t be able to spread the news that it’s so easy to cop a sneak out of his pride and joy of a jail. Besides, if you boys play ball it will be worth a double-saw apiece. That’ll fix you up for smokes and a few other luxuries. Ten now and ten later if you keep him thinking we’re still here as long as you can get away with it.”

Rednose was interested but skeptical. “Yeah, but if you get out, what the hell would you be coming back for? How’d we get that other ten?”

“I’ll be back. If not, I’ll mail it. You’ll have to take a chance there. Though if the Sheriff has anything to say about it, I won’t be gone long. He wants me for murder.” Merlini put the word in verbal italics.

Our friends looked at each other uneasily. This was out of their class.

Willie said then, “Okay. You’re the boss. I’d sorta like to stick around to see dribble-puss’s face when he discovers you’ve crashed outta his nice, shiny new can.”

Quickly Merlini transferred the men to our cells and began locking them in.

“Why bother with that?” I asked. “If we just throw the switch that’ll be enough.”

Merlini shook his head. “You’ve no feeling at all for the finer points of jail breaking, Ross.”

“Maybe Hooper will believe in ghosts then. That is, he may, if we can get the rest of the way out without being seen. The tough part is still to come. There’s only one way — out the front door, and we’ve got to — Ross! Quick! Someone coming.”

I had heard the footsteps, too. I ran for the door on my toes, making as little sound as possible. I got there just as it opened. Robbins’s astonishment was all that saved us. My haymaker arrived in the nick of time — just as his mouth opened and the warning cry rose in his throat. The punch landed square on the point of his chin; his jaw closed with a sharp dental click; and Merlini, arriving as though it had been rehearsed, caught him as he fell.

“I was afraid we were having it too much our own way,” Merlini said. “Now we are in for it. They’ll be looking for him when he doesn’t come back and, even if we do get out, we won’t have any time to ourselves at all. There’s only one thing to do. Take his feet.”

We carried Robbins into cell number three and laid him out on a cot. Merlini relieved him of his gun and moved back toward the outer door again. “I’m afraid we won’t leave a mystery behind us after all,” he said. “It’s going to be only too obvious to Hooper how we—”

More footsteps approached the door from the other side. When it swung open, Hooper was saying, “Robbins, just in case that magician still has any funny—”

“—ideas about escaping,” Merlini’s voice finished for him. “Sorry we must be going, Chief. We’ve had a lovely time, but it’s getting late. Take his gun, Ross.”

Even without the gun I don’t think I’d have needed to give Hooper a sock on the jaw to quiet him. The very sight of us was having all the effect of a mulekick.

“Now, Hooper, if you’ll just ask Captain Schafer and Stevens to step in here, I think we can handle the rest of the boys two at a time. And careful of your voice.”

Since he thought Merlini was a murderer and crazy to boot, he was far more impressed than I would have been at the sight of Merlini’s gun. The Chief didn’t know that Merlini had a positive dislike for firearms of any sort, and had no intention of using one now.

He gulped a bit, got his vocal chords under control, and called out as directed.

“Thanks,” Merlini said. “This way, Chief. You watch the door, Ross.”

Hooper started a protest, but Merlini cut him off. “No arguments. March!”

The Chief’s expression was a really interesting sight. Baffled bewilderment and griping rage played across his face like the shifting flicker of an Aurora Borealis. His face, also like the northern lights, was green, and I hoped fervently that when the incandescent gases that were beneath its surface finally erupted I would be miles away.

Merlini put Hooper in a cell and I threw the switch. Then the Captain and Stevens arrived together. Expressions exactly similar to the Chief’s blossomed on the faces of everyone who walked through that door in the next few minutes. I collected a couple more guns; Schafer called and kindly decoyed his two troopers and the remaining three of the Chief’s men into our trap; we filed them all neatly away.

Merlini told Schafer, “I’m sorry about this. You can blame Inspector Gavigan. If he hadn’t double-crossed me I wouldn’t have needed to take such extreme measures. Is O’Halloran still around?”

“No,” Schafer snapped, “he’s gone. And if you think you can get away with this—”

“Let’s go, Ross,” said Merlini. “But quietly. I don’t trust the Captain much.”

We had nearly reached the door of the Chief’s office, when hell broke loose in the cell-block behind us. Quickly Merlini kicked in the Chief’s door. O’Halloran stood at Hooper’s desk, examining the paraffin molds Burns had made, his back toward us. He pivoted instantly, and, in turning, started to say, “What’s all that racket out—”

Then he saw Merlini’s gun and his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t move your hands, O’Halloran,” the latter commanded. “Give me his gun, Ross.”

O’Halloran was as puzzled as the others, but as I went toward him he laughed. “All you need is a cutlass between your teeth, Ross. I’ll be damned!”

I’m afraid I did look rather like Sir Henry Morgan preparing to repel boarders. I had a .45 in each hand and two more tucked into my belt. I transferred one to my coat pocket and took O’Halloran’s .32 and passed it to Merlini.

“I collect firearms too,” I said. “Official police weapons mostly.”

“How the hell did you get loose?” O’Halloran asked. “And what did you do to Hooper? That sounds like his bellow out there.”

“It is,” Merlini said. “He, most of the Norwalk police department, and a detachment of state troopers are signed up for a little night course in applied penology. Class won’t be dismissed for some time yet, I hope. To make sure of that, we’ve got to do something about you. You can either join them or sign articles with us. Which will it be?”

“You do things up brown, don’t you?” O’Halloran said, regarding us thoughtfully.

“It’s my favorite color,” Merlini replied. “Make up your mind. We’re getting out of here before something else delays us.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going back to that circus lot and polish off some unfinished business before I get tangled up in more official red tape. You’re getting an invite to go along because I want that story of yours. What about it?”

O’Halloran grinned. “Let’s go,” he said, starting for the door.

The angry roaring from the cell-block outside reminded me of the Bronx Zoo at feeding time.

O’Halloran added, “Boy, oh boy! I hate to think of what will happen when Hooper, Schafer & Co. catch up with us. I hope you’ll remember that I came with you because I had no choice. You sure you haven’t bitten off more than you can digest, Merlini?”

“I don’t know.” Merlini was trying on a uniform cap that lay on Burns’s desk. “I expect there’ll be signs of a stomach ache. But if we can bring back the real murderer, Hooper and Schafer will have to take it and like it.”

“I warn you, he won’t take anything less than that. You two have chalked up a whole damn police blotter full of offenses; and, if you wear those uniforms out of here, they’ll jump you for impersonating an officer. But”—O’Halloran paused—“I’ll give odds of two to one that you pull it off.”

“You will?” Merlini asked. “Why?”

“Because,” O’Halloran smiled, “I’ll make you a present of the murderer. I know who he is! I’ve got this case on ice!”