Time for Murder

Chapter Two Monkey Business

Shadows clung to the vacant house like soft road tar clings to an automobile tire. Crouched in the shadows, George Brokay peered at the dark structure which blotted out the stars.

“And there’s no one home?” he asked, in a whisper.

“We’re just taking a chance on one person,” Sam West said. “Everyone else is accounted for. The servants are out. The chauffeur sleeps out over the garage in an apartment. He couldn’t hear a stick of dynamite explode in the house.”

“Who’s the one person we’re taking chances on?” Brokay asked in a low, cautious voice.

“She’s a young woman,” Sam West said. “You should be interested in her, because she’s the same sort that you are — a woman who has more money than she knows what to do with.”

“Who is it?” Brokay inquired curiously.

“Her name’s Ordway,” West told him, “Gladys Ordway. She’s about twenty-six — perhaps twenty-seven, and she’s easy to look at.”

“You’ve met her?” asked Brokay.

“Never seen her in my life, but I know what she looks like and I’ve got all the dope on her.”

“You’ve looked this place up?”

“Oh, yes, I look up every place before I go into it.”

“Did you know that you were likely to encounter me tonight?”

“No. I knew that you had gone to the Van Dusen’s, and I knew that the affair wouldn’t be over until two or three o’clock in the morning. I thought I had at least an hour.”

“That’s what I got for being bored with the party,” Brokay said.

“This is what you get for being bored with the party.” West told him, and chuckled. “Come on, we’ll try the window over there on the south side — the one that has the shade tree growing near it.”

“You mean we’ll climb up in the shade tree?”

“No, we’ll take advantage of the shadow. Let’s go.”

“Suppose the window’s locked?” Brokay asked.

“I’ll show you all about that,” Sam West said.

He led the way across the narrow strip of lawn, to the place where the tree flung an inky shadow against the house. Calmly, methodically, he took a small leather case from beneath his coat, selected a curved steel bar, fitted a telescopic handle to it, placed one end of the curved bar beneath the sill of the window, and pressed downward.

There was a sharp clicking noise, and the window rose for an inch or two, shivering slightly. Sam West casually inserted gloved fingers and raised the sash. “Remember,” he said in a whisper, “no matter how inconvenient it is, keep the gloves on your hands. We don’t want to leave any fingerprints.”

With the lithe grace of an athlete, West swung up from the ground, flung one leg over the window sill and then disappeared in the darkness. “Want a hand?” he whispered.

“No,” said Brokay, and slid up and across the sill as easily as West had performed the operation.

From the darkness, the burglar watched him approvingly. “You keep in pretty good condition,” he said.

“Fair,” Brokay remarked nonchalantly.

“I’ve got a floor plan of the house,” Sam West said. “The safe that we want is in the bedroom, on the second floor. We won’t bother with anything else, but we’ll go right up there.”

“What’s in it?” Brokay inquired.

“You can never tell,” West said, leading the way to a corridor, where the beam of his spotlight showed a huge winding staircase which stretched upward, into the realm of mysterious darkness above the circle of illumination.

“We take the stairs,” said Sam West.

Keeping his feet well to the sides of the stairs, so that no creak would betray him, and motioning to Brokay to do the same, Sam West padded upward. As he traveled, the flashlight sent its beam darting about to the right and left, up and down, dissipating the shadows.

There was not a sound in the dark house. It might have been untenanted, for all the noises that came to Brokay’s straining ears.

Sam West found the upper corridor, turned and touched Brokay with his hand, guiding him gently to the left and through a door which was open. West crossed a room, his feet making no noise as they moved across the carpeted floor with a sure-footed caution which would have done credit to a stalking puma. He paused with his hand on the knob of a door.

“Get ready for anything,” he whispered. Gently, he disengaged the latch and. opened the door.

The room was dark and silent.

“Guess we’re O. K.,” said West, and pushed the button on the flashlight, which sent the pencil of brilliant illumination darting about the room.

The light showed that the bedroom was that of a woman; that it was handsomely appointed. It showed a dresser on which glittered toilet articles in an orderly array. The beam of the flashlight slithered across the reflecting surface of a mirror, then darted across the bed.

There was something which caught the gleam of the flashlight, a white silent something which caused Brokay to stiffen, caused Sam West to give a quick flick of his wrist, sending the flashlight back so that the beam rested on the bed.

Brokay gave an involuntary exclamation of horror.

The body of a young woman lay upon the bed — a young woman who was clad only in the most filmy of underthings. The body was beautifully formed. Filmy lace rippled over firm, white bosom. The hair was a warm, rich brown, and was spread about in a tangled confusion, contrasting with the deathly pallor of the face. The legs were stockinged, but there were no slippers on the feet.

Clinging to the top of the bed, his tail wrapped around and around the brass of the bedstead, was a monkey which sat perfectly motionless, staring with wide eyes at the flashlight.

“Good God!” said Brokay. “What’s that?”

“Steady!” said Sam West, and there was the noise of rustling garments which accompanied swift motion as the burglar reached to his hip pocket and pulled out a revolver.

For a long moment the two men stood silent, staring at the form on the bed, at the monkey which perched motionless on the top of the bed.

“Let’s get out of this,” said Sam West.

“Wait a minute,” Brokay told him, “we’ve got to find out what’s happened. Maybe the woman is unconscious.”

“Not me,” said Sam West. “We’re going to get out. We can’t tell what’s going to happen here. Remember, we’re flirting with the electric chair.”

Brokay took two steps toward the bed. As he moved, the monkey screamed with terror. Sam West switched out the light and left the room in darkness.

“Wait a minute,” called Brokay. “You can’t leave that way, West.”

There was no noise from Sam West, who moved with such feline stealth that his footfalls were silent.

Brokay turned and made a lunge toward where he thought the burglar would be. His questing fingers encountered only darkness. He stumbled, lurched against the wall and then groped with his fingers until he found a light switch. He snapped on the light switch.

Sam West was not in the room. The monkey started to chatter with terror a nervous, hysterical chatter that sounded almost like the clicking of castanets. Brokay flung himself toward the door, wrenched it open, looked out into the corridor and caught the gleam of Sam West’s spotlight.

“Come back here, West,” he said, “or I’m going to shoot.”

The flashlight snapped out. The corridor was as dark as pitch.

“I mean it,” Brokay said.

“Listen,” came Sam West’s voice, sounding cold and ominous, “that’s a game two can play at. But remember, there’s been a murder committed here. You start shooting and you’re going to alarm the neighborhood, and if you don’t quit making such a confounded racket, you’re going to do it anyway. Do you know what it means for us to be caught here?”

“I say come on back,” Brokay said. “We’re going to see what we can do.”

There was a moment of silence, then he heard Sam West sigh. “You,” said the burglar, “are just about foolish enough to start making a racket. Come on, if it’s going to suit you any better. What do you want to do, hold a post mortem?”

“I want to find out something about this business,” Brokay said.

He turned and walked back toward the room, conscious of the fact that the burglar was padding noiselessly along just behind him. As Brokay entered the room, he felt something hard prodding into his back.

“I’m just sticking a rod on you,” the burglar said, “so that you’ll know who’s running this show.”

Brokay said nothing, but advanced into the bedroom. He stretched forth a cautious hand and touched the bare flesh of the woman’s arm, then, muttering an exclamation, he took off his glove.

“Leave that glove on!” Sam West cautioned. “You leave a fingerprint here and it’ll mean the electric chair.”

Brokay still remained silent, but with his bare fingers felt the flesh of the woman’s wrist.

“She’s dead,” he said, after a moment, “but she hasn’t been dead longer man a few minutes. The body is still warm.”

“I tell you we’ve got to get out of here,” Sam West said.

The monkey on the bed continued to sit and chatter, but it was no longer motionless. It swayed back and forth rhythmically.

“For God’s sake!” said Sam West, “Shut up that damned monkey!”

Brokay looked at the little animal. “It’s simply terrified to death,” he said. He stretched forth his arms and made crooning noises.

The monkey stared at him. After at moment the chattering sounds of terror ceased, the moist brown eyes regarded Brokay speculatively. Then, so suddenly as to startle Brokay into dropping his arms, the monkey unfastened its tail and came through the air in a long, flying leap.

The monkey caught Brokay by the shoulder of the coat, climbed so that he sat huddled against Brokay’s neck, and, after a moment, Brokay felt the furry tail wind around his neck. The monkey ceased to chatter.

“Poor little devil, he’s shivering as though he’d been in a cold bath,” Brokay said.

“Well,” Sam West said, “this is your party. What are you going to do now?”

“I want to find out something about how she died,” said Brokay, and bent over the form.

“Watch those fingerprints!” the burglar exclaimed. “Get that glove back on if you value your life!”

Brokay paid no attention to him, but held the glove in his left hand while he placed his right hand on the bed and bent over the still figure.

“Expensive lingerie,” said Sam West. “Looks as though she was dressing to go out for a party. She had a heavy date of some kind and was going to put on her best clothes.”

“Here’s the wound,” Brokay said in a low voice. “It’s a stabbing wound just over the heart.”

Sam West turned a practical eye upon the discoloration which blemished the smooth white flesh. “That’s where it came out,” he said. “It must have gone in the other side.”

“You mean from the back?” asked Brokay.

“Uh-huh,” said Same West.

Brokay hesitated for a moment then, placing his hand tenderly back of the girl’s shoulder, turned the body. As he did so, he stiffened with horror as he saw the red pool which had gathered beneath the left shoulder.

“Told you so,” said Sam West.

“Good heavens!” said Brokay.

“Satisfied now?” the burglar inquired.

“Certainly not,” Brokay said. “We’ve got to do something about this. We’ve got to find out who she is. We’ve got to notify the police.”

“Got to what!” exclaimed the burglar.

“Got to notify the police.”

“And just who are you going to say is calling?” asked Sam West.

“We can explain,” Brokay said.

Sam West’s laugh was scornful. “Explain nothing,” he said. “You’re simply flirting with tike electric chair.”

“But I can give them credentials,” said Brokay. “I can explain to them that—”

“You might have an hour ago,” Sam West said, “but you’re a burglar now; don’t forget that. You can’t explain to them what you were doing in this house. You can’t explain how you crawled in through a window that had been jimmied. You can talk until you’re black in the face, but you can’t make anyone listen to you or believe you.”

Brokay was silent as a full realization of his predicament crashed home upon him.

“What’s more,” said Sam West, “we’ve got to get out of here. We don’t know what’s happened. We don’t know the motive for the murder. All we know is that the girl has been murdered, and that if anyone catches us here, we’re going to have the murder pinned on us, just as sure as—” He broke off.

Clear and distinct through the night air, sounding from some distance down the road, came the low, throbbing wail of a siren.

Brokay stiffened, stared at Sam West, with a sudden realization of his predicament.

The furry tail of the monkey tightened around his neck, and once more, the little animal began to shiver and emit low, chattering sounds of terror.

“Switch out that light,” said Sam West. “Someone’s heard all that commotion we’ve been raising. Get started.”

Brokay hesitated. The gun jabbed into the small of his back. “I’m running things now,” said the burglar. “Get that light off, or the cops will find two stiffs here instead of one.”

Brokay switched off the light.

“Walk ahead of me,” said Sam West, “and make it snappy. Make for that window we came out of. I’ll give you the light.”

He snapped on the flashlight, showing the carpeted floor. The gun jabbed into Brokay’s back. Brokay walked rapidly across the corridor.

“Faster,” said Sam West, and jabbed with the gun.

Brokay went down the stairs at a fast run, turned down the corridor.

“First door to the left, and step on it,” forward and turned a key in a radio, which illuminated a dial. “We’ll tune in on the police broadcast,” he said.

He slowed the car, and, after a moment, a mechanical voice said: “Calling all cars… calling all cars… calling all cars. Car Thirty-two answered a telephone call to the residence of John C. Ordway. As the police car approached the residence, two men were seen to run across the lawn and jump into a light roadster. When police hailed them, they refused to stop. A shot was fired which apparently hit the roadster. Both men are young, probably under thirty. They are of medium height, and run as though they had received athletic training at some time in their lives. One of the men wore a gray business suit, and the other wore a tuxedo. The taller of the two men, who is approximately five feet ten and one-half inches high, weight about one hundred and eighty pounds, had a monkey which was swinging to his neck as he ran.

“It is not yet known whether these men were burglars or were merely prowling about the house when they were disturbed, but they evidently are avoiding the police, and should be picked up for questioning at all costs. Car Thirty-two is continuing to search the neighborhood in which the roadster was lost. Car Sixty-four will swing in toward Thirty-fourth and Central. Car Eighty-two will run down Central until it comes to Thirty-fourth. Car Seventy-six will run down Forty-fifth to Grand Avenue, turn on Grand Avenue until it comes to Thirty-fourth and then meet the other cars. All other cars will keep a watch for a light roadster. Car Ninety-one will divert from its beat, to go to the residence of John C. Ordway, at Five-seven-nine Riverview, and make a report on what is found, after a complete investigation. That is all.”

Sam West turned to stare at George Brokay. “That damned monkey!” he said, and slammed his foot on the brake. “Put him out,” he told Brokay, as the car skidded in close to the curb.

“The poor little devil, he’s frightened,” Brokay said, “and—”

The gun in Sam West’s left hand jabbed meaningly and savagely into Brokay’s ribs. “Listen,” said Sam West, “this is no time to run a debating society. I should have known better than to take on a damned amateur. Either get that monkey out of here, or I’ll blow you wide open.”

Brokay disengaged the monkey’s tail from around his throat. The monkey, sensing his purpose, chattered and screamed, hanging on to Brokay’s arm.

“Get back,” said Sam West suddenly. “I’ll blow the damn little brute’s head off.”

“You know what will happen if you shoot here,” Brokay told him.

West cursed. “Throw him out, then, and make it snappy,” he said. “Break his damn neck! Beat his head against the side of the car!”

Brokay managed to unprison, the little animal’s arms and legs.

“Get ready to go,” he said, “I’m going to toss him out.”

Sam West snapped the car into, gear.

Brokay tossed the animal to the pavement. The animal screamed shrill rage. The car veered sharply from the curb and jumped into immediate speed.

“You wanted excitement,” Sam West said, “and you’re going to get it. We’ve got to find some place to hide — and what I mean is, we’ve got to take it on the lam. Every radio car in the city will be looking for us, and three of them are converging on this district.”

“You know the routes they’re coming, so you can avoid them,” Brokay pointed out.

“We know where three of them are coming, but how about the others?”

“I’ll tell you. What I’ll do,” Brokay said. “You got into this thing partially because of me. I’ll give you a break. We can go to my place and we’ll hole up there. The police certainly won’t think of searching my house. I’m a respected member of society, and—”

“And don’t ever kid yourself that this isn’t a society murder,” said the burglar. “That woman, lying almost naked on the bed, was killed by someone that’s accustomed to evening clothes, and all the fine things of life, don’t ever forget it. It’s a society killing. We sure as hell chose a great time to bust into that place.”

“You’re the one who picked the time,” Brokay reminded him.

“Yeah,” said Sam West, “so you could get a thrill — and a hell of a time I picked — a time for murder!”

“Nevertheless,” Brokay said, “you can’t think of any place that’s better to hide than my place.”

“O. K.,” Sam West said, and swung the wheel to the right. “It’s just a case of any port in a storm.”

The men rode in silence for half a dozen blocks, and then the burglar turned the car into Brokay’s driveway. The car purred smoothly up to the garage and then stopped as the burglar applied the brakes. Brokay reached from the car, pressed an electric button on an upright post by the side of the driveway. The doors of the garage slid smoothly back. The roadster slipped through the doors and came to rest in the spacious garage. Sam West sighed and shut off the motor. Brokay opened the door and stepped to the cement floor.

“Well,” he said, “we’d better look the thing over for bullet marks. They probably hit us. We’d better find if we can disguise it so it doesn’t look so much like a bullet mark.”

He walked to the rear of the car.

There was a glad cry, the sound of a shrill chattering, and the monkey leapt from the spare tire directly to Brokay’s shoulder, where it cuddled up against his cheek, wrapping its tail around Brokay’s neck.

“Where the devil did that beast come from?” said Sam West.

“He rode the spare tire,” Brokay said. “Poor little devil, he’s shivering so he can hardly hang on.”

Sam West grimly drew his revolver.

There was an angry glint in Brokay’s eyes. His right hand slid to his own hip pocket. “No you don’t!” he said.

The burglar looked at Brokay’s concealed hand. “Why don’t I?” he inquired ominously, his eyes glinting.

“Don’t forget one thing, West,” Brokay told him. “Before we get done, we may have to solve this murder to prove that we didn’t do it, and this monkey may be the only clue that we’ve got and the police haven’t.”

The glitter faded from Sam West’s eyes. He frowned thoughtfully. Slowly, he lowered his gun. “You may be right, at that,” he said slowly.