The Headless Lady

Chapter Nineteen Who’s Who

Merlini looked at me. “Lieutenant Harte,” he said, “this man is a dangerous character. If he makes trouble place him under arrest.” Then he faced Gavigan. “I’d rather be arrested for impersonating an officer than for exhibitionism. What do you want us to do — turn nudist? You had your colleagues deprive us of our clothes. And how’d you get here so fast — did you charter a witch’s broomstick?”

“No — a plane.” Gavigan’s frown was still forbidding, but his eyes twinkled. “I might have known jail wouldn’t stop you. What did you pick the locks with — your teeth?”

“That’s such a prosaic suggestion, Inspector. I said ‘Open Sesame’ three times, and the walls of Jericho fell flat. Mind telling us why you had us thrown into durance vile?”

“I didn’t think you’d stay there long,” Gavigan admitted. “But I thought it might keep you in a safe place long enough so that I could get here and take over. This isn’t your sort of case. It’s full of gangsters and gunmen. I was afraid that that sort of professional criminal might reply to your subtle and fine-drawn methods of detection with a machine-gun barrage. I thought you might be more comfortable in Hooper’s jail than on a morgue slab.”

“The morgue slab would be lots cooler than the fire Ross and I have jumped from the frying pan into. Your well-meant solicitude has resulted in our breaking half the penal laws of the State of New York. When Schafer and Hooper catch up with us, you’re going to have to go to bat for us — that is, if you want this murder case solved.”

“That’s what you think,” Gavigan said. “I’ve got it solved!”

“Oh,” Merlini said sharply. “Arrested the villain?”

“I’m going to just as soon as I’ve heard your story.”

“He’s still on the lot, then?”

“He’s still on the lot?” Gavigan asked. “Who’s still on the lot?”

“Why, the Duke, of course. Isn’t he the man you want?”

“The Duke? How did you know he was anywhere around here? Miss Hannum says she didn’t tell you.”

“He’s the bee in O’Halloran’s bonnet. We’ve just heard all about the Duke and Maxie and the Vanishing Lady.”

“O’Halloran?” Gavigan said. “Martin O’Halloran? Has he got a finger in this pie?”

Merlini nodded. “Both fists. And he seems to have stolen a march on you. He’s scouring the lot for the Duke now with visions of a ten-grand reward under his hat.”

“He won’t find him,” Gavigan stated. “The Duke’s lammed. And I sent Brady in to put a four-state alarm out on the teletype. He and Keith Atterbury’s car have been missing ever since the matinee. I want him, all right, but not for a murder rap. The murderer is still around. Say, where are Schafer and Hooper? Haven’t they discovered you’re gone yet?”

“Well,” Merlini said a bit uneasily, “I imagine they are beginning to get the idea. I think you’d better make your arrest before they show up. They’ve some awfully biased ideas on the subject, all of which concern Ross and myself. And I doubt if our escape is any contribution toward establishing our innocence. So Pauline finally admits that the tramp clown, Garner, is the Duke and that the Headless Lady was her sister, Paulette Hannum, café society’s Paula Starr?”

“Yes. When we told her the Duke had run out, she talked. She says she was afraid to before because he threatened to kill her. She also accuses him of the murders and causing her tumble last night.”

“Yes, I thought she might,” said Merlini. “But you don’t believe her. Why? What color rabbit is it you’ve got up your sleeve, Gavigan?”

“You’ll find out,” he promised. “But I want your story. I got a lot of it from Wiley here. I want more. How did you find out about this case in the first place? And don’t tell me it was crystal-gazing!”

“Inspector,” Merlini said insistently, “that’s not important just now. We’ve got to roll up our sleeves and work fast. If you questioned Mac, you’ve got most of the story. Did Pauline tell you why the Major was helping Paula and the Duke get out of the country? We’ve heard a couple of times that he actively disliked the Duke and was none too pleased with Paula for eloping with him. What motive did he have for routing his show through a lot of unprofitable tank towns in order to get them to Canada the quickest way? I smell a rat. How much did the Duke pay him for the ride?”

“Pauline says he did it for love — on sister Paula’s account,” Gavigan answered. “But she’s lying. I think she’s scared I’ll make her kick the money back. I think I know the answer, though. It’s no secret that Maxie Weissman cleaned up a fortune in the policy racket before somebody put the finger on him. What isn’t so well known is that, when we went through his bank accounts and the like, we didn’t find nearly enough. A measly ten or fifteen thousand. I had a damn good hunch that he had his nest-egg in cash and that he had hidden it somewhere in or near the Bridgeport hide-out where he was killed. We tore the place apart, and we didn’t find it. I had two operatives, a man and a policewoman, playing the part of man and wife, rent the house from the owner and stick there, hoping that some friend of Maxie’s who knew its location would be up there after it. He must have had a tin box so full of cash that I was sure, if anyone knew where it was, they wouldn’t be able to resist it for long. Sooner or later they’d come snooping.”

“That,” Merlini said, “is what I call needed information. It explains the unexplainable — the fantastic incident of the elephants that escaped on purpose. The Duke, though he has tried to hide it behind clown white, certainly does have a head on him. Kellar once said, and without any exaggeration, that he could stand facing you and so misdirect you that if an elephant walked past, behind Kellar, you wouldn’t be aware of it. The Duke has worked that stunt in reverse. The elephants themselves were the misdirection! It’s a classic. One of the most massive bits of misdirection in the book.”

“Never mind the blurbs.” Gavigan glowered. “The Duke’s a slick article right enough, but he’d have been lots smarter to stay on the right side of the law. You’ve figured it right, though. While the front yard was full of auto wreck and the flower beds full of elephants and animal trainers, the Major — the Duke would probably have kept out of sight — fished up the boodle. I think now it was in the well. We found a few traces. I’ll have to admit that an elephant-truck accident was so damned unusual that I didn’t think it could be a phony. And I’d just dug up the fact that Paula Starr was originally Paulette Hannum and figured what had happened when Captain Schafer phoned me about you.”

“And now the Duke is on the run with the dough. O’Halloran will be glad to hear this — because it gives the Duke a motive for eliminating the Major. He didn’t want to split with him. And Paula might have boggled at murder — while the attempt on Pauline was to prevent his discovery. But if Pauline accuses the Duke without mentioning the money, what motive does she give him?”

“One of those jaw-breaker ones like we had in that Skelton Island case. She says he’s a claustrophobe — that he’d commit a dozen murders to avoid landing in a prison cell, and that the phobia worked on him so strong he got to the point where he wouldn’t trust a soul. He began to suspect that the Major and, after he’d killed him, even Paula, were going to turn him in. But that’s eyewash. Because the Duke isn’t the murderer.”

“And who is?”

Gavigan shrugged. “Why should I tell you that until I’ve made the arrest? Do you ever tell me?”

“I’ll make an exception this time,” Merlini said. “If your candidate is not the same as mine, I’ll trade you. I think I’m going to need your help putting the cuffs on anyway.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Gavigan said. “Okay. It’s a deal. And Ross is a witness to that promise, remember. If you try to welsh, you’ll have another chance to try getting out of Hooper’s jail; and this time I’ll make it really tough for you.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Merlini said.

Gavigan scowled at him, suspicious of this unexpected open-handedness. “Okay. I don’t see how you can have any other answer anyway. The murderer, as usual, is the most unlikely person. How the hell you manage it I don’t know, but you always seem to get mixed up in just the kind of a murder case that gives Harte here material for a book. No waste motion with you two.”

“The most unlikely person?” Merlini asked. “Sure you know who that is, are you?”

“I don’t see how anybody could be more unlikely,” Gavigan came back. “It’s the old, old gag — so old that I’m afraid for once Ross will say it’s too trite to write. The murderer is the invalid who’s flat on her back and apparently can’t move hand or foot—Pauline Hannum!”

I wasn’t too surprised at that, because I’d been considering the idea myself. I couldn’t make out whether Merlini was surprised or not. But Mac Wiley wasn’t having any.

“You’re crazy,” the latter exploded. “Pauline wouldn’t—”

Merlini broke in, “You don’t think her injuries are real then, Inspector?”

“They’re not as bad as she makes out by a long shot. She may have some cuts and bruises, but she took that fall on purpose for an alibi. You told me yourself once that acrobats know how to fall with lots less chance of injury than other people. They land relaxed instead of all tightened up, and they go into a roll. And since it wasn’t unexpected, since she knew exactly when she had to take the drop—”

“Then you’re holding off on the arrest until you can check back on Dr. Tripp in Waterboro?”

“Yeah. And he’s going to get a good going-over. If he says she’s really badly injured, it’s possible she paid him off with some of the cash. I’m pretty sure the Duke already handed over a first payment because of that salary payoff last Saturday.”

“I see,” Merlini said. “And her motive?”

“She inherits the show, doesn’t she?”

“I wish I knew,” Merlini said. “Though of course when the Major was killed she may have thought she did.”

“But she does. She just showed us the Major’s will. There was one all along. She sneaked it from the Major’s trailer right after his accident. It leaves Pauline, Paulette, and Joy Pattison each a third interest. The show’s to go on with Pauline as manager and the profits to be split three ways. Pauline held back the will because it mentioned Paulette under her real and under her stage name, Paula Starr. She didn’t want the cops to pick up Paula before she’d had a chance to eliminate her, and she wanted the Duke to get clear so she’d collect some more of the Weissman dough that he’d promised to pay. The circus needed cash. Joy was next on her list. Pauline’s always been burned up because of Paula’s more glamorous success and has been angry as hell that Joy should chisel in on what she figures should be hers. When she killed the Major, I don’t think she knew he’d actually left Joy anything, but she did it partly because she was afraid he would. She planned the Major’s death to look like accident. When you got nosy, she knew Paula’s death, accident or not, would look suspicious; so she arranged that fall of hers as an alibi and planned to make Paula’s death look like a disappearance by concealing the body. She was going to take it along for a day or so and ditch it a hundred miles or more away. When Schafer started his search, she had to get rid of it quickly, and she passed it to you to queer your investigation. And now, because she knows that won’t really stick, she’s got the Duke picked for the fall guy.”

“Tex Mayo assisted her, I take it?”

“Yeah. They worked together on Paula’s death, and maybe he did more than that; though if necessary, being an athlete herself, she could have moved the body.”

“And the missing head?” Merlini asked. “Was that removed so as to prevent discovery of Paula’s identity and avoid any suspicion that the Duke might be lurking on the lot?”

“Anything wrong with that reason?”

“I don’t think I care for it particularly,” Merlini said. “Our murderer has been so careful all along, I can’t quite see him — or her, as the case may be — failing to remove the clothing labels.”

Gavigan wasn’t greatly impressed. “When you’ve known as many murderers as I have,” he said, “you won’t give them credit for so damned much intelligence. They make mistakes like anybody else, and some of the smartest killers make the dumbest ones.”

“Yes,” Merlini said. “I know that. Just the same—”

I took a chance and stuck my neck out. “I know another reason why that head might have been removed,” I said. “And the murderer, though trying to hide the identity of the body, would have left the clothing labels on purpose and for a damn good reason.”

Gavigan said hopefully. “Well, let’s have it.”

Merlini looked at me narrowly and said, “Wait a minute. Ross, I noticed that you carefully avoided using the murderer’s name. I’ve a feeling that you are not talking about Pauline.”

“No,” I said, “I’m not. I’ve got a much better candidate for the job. And boy, has she given us the run around! The murderess—”

Merlini looked behind him and said softly, “Oh, oh! This would happen! It’s pay day. And we collect the wages of sin. Brady has opened Pandora’s box!”

Several running figures came at us out of the darkness. Schafer and Hooper in the lead.

Hooper spied us first and, though the bellow he gave vent to didn’t sound like “Tally-ho!” by a long shot, that’s what it meant.

He had a gun in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. He didn’t waste any words until one cuff was on Merlini’s wrist and the other on his own. Then, still puffing, he said, “From now on we sleep together!”

Merlini said unhappily, “That’s an indecent proposal, Chief. There’s a law—”

Inspector Gavigan stepped forward. “Just a minute. I’ll vouch for this man. He—”

Hooper turned on him. “You?” he growled. “Who the blasted hell are you?”

“Now you’ve gone and done it, Hooper!” Merlini said. “May I present Chief Inspector Gavigan? Chief of Police Hooper and Captain Schafer.”

“Oh. Ha. Humpf. I’m sorry. Glad to meet you.” Hooper was flustered, though not nearly as much as I had hoped.

Schafer asked heavily, “What do you mean, you’ll vouch for him? You told me to lock him up!”

“Yes, I know,” Gavigan said, and rapidly gave Schafer the reasons he had given us.

Chief Hooper, however, wasn’t going to play. “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Inspector. I don’t even care if he’s not a murderer. I’ve got all I want on him. Pocket-picking, breaking and entering, willful destruction of county property, jail-breaking, assaulting officers in the performance of their duty, impersonating an officer! Most of that goes for Harte, too. Stevens, get the patrol wagon around here! They’re going in now!”

Schafer regarded Gavigan. “The Chief’s right,” he said. “I don’t know why you’ve changed your mind, but we’re not taking any chances. And we have got enough on them to keep them behind bars for a good long time. Take ’em away, Hooper, and watch them.”

“Are you telling me?” Hooper growled.