Minute Mysteries [Detectograms]
path of his fall, the concrete road directly above him was stained with
blood. I don’t know why people insist on walking along the highway.
‘That’s such a bad curve right there. I don’t suppose we’ll ever find
out who struck him. And then, it’s possible for someone to have hit him
without knowing it. And I believe the car that did stopped and the
driver seeing how badly he was hurt, in fear, drove on.’
‘What makes you think that, Reynolds?’
‘There are tracks of a car skidding along the shoulder of the road, and
footprints in the blood where the fellow dropped on the pavement. I
suppose the poor old man regained consciousness, staggered to his feet,
and rolled down the embankment. That finished him. Ugh—it was a messy
affair!’
‘Who is he?’
‘We’re not sure. The only identification was a small scrap of paper in
his pocket with the name Tabor. By a queer coincidence there was a large
T deeply cut in the blood-stained boulder which stopped his fall.’
‘No doubt, Sergeant, the murderers intended you should take exactly the
inference you have, but don’t you see t____ w__ n_ b____ b______ t__
r___ a__ t__ b______?’
What did the Professor tell Reynolds?
50
_Daylight Robbery_
‘I went to the office Thursday to do some work,’ Shaeffer related.
‘About noon, I happened to look out the window and notice a black sedan
draw up and two tough-looking fellows get out. They looked suspicious to
me, and, as I wasn’t armed, I hastily banged the safe door closed and
ran into the washroom—not a bit too soon either. In just a few seconds
they came in, one carrying a sawed-off shotgun. I could see them
plainly.
‘They looked around for a moment and one said, “If anybody comes in here
before we’re through, give it to him.”
‘He then went over to the safe and, after working on it for about five
minutes, had it open and took the money. They certainly had a lot of
nerve. Even stopped to count it! Then they leisurely strolled out the
door. I called Headquarters immediately.’
‘How much did they get?’ questioned Inspector Kelley.
‘Over fifteen thousand. We hadn’t banked the money from the day before
because Thursday was a holiday.’
‘Get the number of the car?’
‘No. When it drove up to the office, I didn’t see a license plate on the
front, and I couldn’t see the back. When I finished telephoning for the
police, it had gone.’
‘Was there anyone at the office besides you?’
‘I was alone. A man telephoned an hour before, however, and asked if we
were open. I told him no, but I’d be there until about two-thirty. He
hung up without answering.’
‘Well, fellows,’ asked Professor Fordney, of the members of his class in
criminology, to whom he was telling the story, ‘why did Inspector
Kelley immediately arrest Shaeffer?’
51
_A Simple Solution_
The sun streamed cheerfully through the window, bringing into lively
play the soft tones of the luxurious furnishings, as the two house
guests, Professor Fordney and Inspector Kelley, entered the oil
magnate’s bedroom.
‘Nothing in here to get excited about,’ said Kelley.
Fordney, opening the window and seeing Smith lying on the ground three
stories below it, cried, ‘Run downstairs, Inspector. Quick! There he
is!’
Kelley nodded, and was on his way. As he hurried out the door, he came
face to face with the butler. Fordney eyed the servant suspiciously as
he entered.
‘When did you see Mr. Smith last?’ he asked.
‘About an hour ago. He had a telephone call which seemed to excite him
and he came right up here to his room.’
‘Who brought this up?’ Fordney asked, fingering an unopened letter with
an illegible postmark.
‘He brought it up himself, sir, saying he was not to be disturbed.’
‘Anyone been here since?’
Kelley’s noisy entrance interrupted the butler’s ‘No, sir.’
‘Smith broke his neck. I found this on him,’ he remarked, handing the
Professor a note.
Ill health and financial trouble have made life a burden. I’m leaving
my bedroom for the last time. A three-story drop and my misery will be
over.
Smith
‘His suicide will be a blow to the oil industry,’ Kelley mused, as
Fordney sat down at the desk and began to write with Smith’s fountain
pen.
‘His _death_ will be, Inspector,’ said Fordney. ‘Better get the servants
together. This is murder—not suicide!’
What reason did Fordney have for making such a statement?
52
_Who?_
‘I was trying to stop the flow with this, Professor,’ said Weeds, the
butler, indicating a blood-covered towel he had just removed from the
bed, ‘when Jones struck at me and I dropped it.’
‘And I’m sorry I missed!’ angrily exclaimed Jones, the colored
chauffeur.
‘Never mind that,’ said Inspector Kelley.
‘Did you find her, Weeds?’ asked Professor Fordney.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘She’s a good-looking mulatto,’ remarked Kelley, looking at the maid
lying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her right hand outstretched,
the wrist deeply cut, rested in a pool of blood on the polished floor.
‘Must have slipped off the bed.’
‘I don’t think so. The spread hasn’t a wrinkle in it,’ said Fordney,
noting the immaculate coverlet of pink lace, the edge caught under the
girl’s body.
‘She was almost gone when I found her,’ offered Weeds, ‘and she died
before I could get a doctor.’
‘Is this yours, Jones?’ inquired Fordney, picking up a sharp knife
hidden by the girl’s dress.
‘Yes. She wanted it to cut the stems of the flowers I had brought up.’
‘I didn’t see that knife when I tried to help her,’ said Weeds.
‘Course you didn’t! You put it there!’ shouted Jones angrily.
‘How do you know? You weren’t here. And what’s more, I heard you
threaten her last night. You don’t see any flowers here, do you,
Inspector?’ quietly asked Weeds.
‘You’re right,’ said Kelley. After whispering to Fordney, he continued,
‘Come on, _you’re_ under arrest. And _you_, we’ll question you later!’
Whom did Kelley arrest—and why?
53
_Murder in the Swamp_
‘We’d better walk along the edge,’ said Professor Fordney, as they
started down the only path leading through the swamp.
‘I never thought of that. I was on the porch when Barton left,’ said
Bob, as he trudged along. ‘Ten minutes later, I heard a shot. I ran down
the path and found him about five hundred yards from the house, bleeding
terribly from a wound in the head. I dashed back for the first-aid kit
and bandaged him as best I could. He died shortly afterwards. Then I
returned and telephoned you.’
Reaching the body of Barton, he explained, ‘I turned him over so that I
could dress his head.’
‘He must have been shot from over there, because those three sets of
footprints are yours and the other one Barton’s,’ said Fordney, after a
careful examination. ‘Let’s look in that underbrush.’
Walking into it a few yards, he said, ‘Here’s where the murderer stood,
all right. See those powder-marks on the leaves?’
While removing the branch, Fordney cut his finger.
‘Better sterilize that, Professor.’
Back at the cottage, as he was about to pick up a mercurochrome bottle
from the kit Bob had used, he observed a spot of blood on the label.
Walking over to the basin, he saw Bob in the mirror above it, furtively
slip a pair of scissors into the kit.
Turning slowly around, he said, ‘I’ll have to hold you on suspicion of
murder.’
Why?
54
_Death by Drowning_
‘We were just getting into our boat,’ said the elder Carroll brother,
‘when we happened to notice Ridge out there in the middle of the river,
opposite Wolf’s old abandoned dock, acting very queerly. He jumped up
and down in the boat, and then, all of a sudden, grabbed an oar, threw
it up in the air, and jumped in.
‘We rowed to the spot, and I dived after him while my brother secured
his boat. The current’s fast there, but I’m a strong swimmer. I swam
around while my brother rowed about, but we could find no trace of him,’
he concluded.
‘We found the oar all right, in the weeds at Wolf’s dock,’ interjected
Riley, of the River Patrol.
‘How wide is the river at that point?’ asked Professor Fordney.
‘About half a mile,’ said Carroll.
‘Pretty lonely, too, isn’t it?’
‘It is that,’ replied Riley.
‘The coroner’s report says Ridge had received a blow of some kind on the
chin. Know anything about it, Carroll?’ inquired Fordney.
‘No, I don’t. Might have hit a rock or the side of the boat when he went
over.’
‘Were you up or down river, from Ridge?’
‘Up river, about three hundred yards, on the west side.’
‘Did you and your brother have on bathing-suits at the time?’
‘I did, but my brother didn’t.’
‘Are there any blood-stains in Ridge’s boat, Riley?’
‘Well, there are stains all right, and they look like blood to me.’
‘I’m not surprised. Hold them both.’
Why was the Professor suspicious of the Carroll brothers?
55
_Tragedy at the Convention_
The Convention was in an uproar! The Drys were making a determined stand
and showing some unexpected last-minute strength.
The Wets were shouting, clamoring, and stamping. The Chairman was vainly
trying to restore order amid a scene of wild confusion.
As the excitement reached its pitch, Hurlenson, a powerful leader of the
Wets, told a companion seated next to him that he felt a heart attack
coming on and was going back to the hotel.
An hour later, the Convention was stunned to learn he had committed
suicide in his room.
Professor Fordney, a guest at the Convention, went immediately to the
hotel.
In Hurlenson’s room he found the police, the doctor, and Pollert, an
influential delegate, who had discovered him.
‘The last time I saw Hurlenson was at the party last night, and he
seemed in excellent spirits,’ said Pollert. ‘I arose late this
morning—my room’s down at the other end of the corridor—and I was just
leaving for the Convention hall when I heard a shot. I dashed directly
here, but it was too late. He must have died immediately.’
‘He did,’ said the doctor. ‘He apparently stood in front of the mirror,
took aim, and blew out his brains. There are powder-burns all around the
wound.’
Learning that none of the maids or any of the other guests were on the
floor at the time, Fordney advised the police to hold Pollert on
suspicion of murder.
Why?
56
_A Murderer’s Mistake_
‘Look, Professor! That’s how the murderer got in, all right,’ said
Tracy.
As Fordney walked over to the ladder standing two feet from the back of
the house, he knelt down and carefully studied the heavy footprints
around it.
‘Whose room is that?’ he inquired, pointing to a second-story window
against which the top of the thirty-foot ladder rested.
‘That’s Uncle’s study,’ replied Tracy.
Going into the house, Fordney first questioned Withers, who had
discovered the body of Lane, Tracy’s uncle.
‘I was reading in my room,’ he said. ‘About two o’clock I heard a noise,
so I armed myself and crept out into the hall. Then I heard it again,
apparently in the study, so I stole down the corridor, opened the door,
and rushed in. I turned on the lights, ran over to the open window,
looked out, and saw a man scurry down the ladder, jump off, and run. I
fired twice, but evidently missed him,’ he concluded.