The Roman hat mystery A problem in deduction
up and saw he was a ritzy feller in evening dress, actin’ kind of
tipsy. He was laughing to himself and he looked pretty happy. I says to
myself, ‘I bet I know what _he_ wants ginger ale for!’ and sure enough
he taps his back pocket and winks. Well—”
“Just a minute, son,” interrupted Queen. “Ever see a dead man before?”
“Why—why, no sir, but I guess I could stand it once,” said the boy
nervously.
“Fine! Is this the man who asked you for the ginger ale?” The Inspector
took the boy by the arm and made him bend over the dead body.
Jess Lynch regarded it with awed fascination. He bobbed his head
vigorously.
“Yes, sir. That’s the gentleman.”
“You’re sure of that now, Jess?” The boy nodded. “By the way, is that
the outfit he was wearing when he accosted you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything missing, Jess?” Ellery, who had been nestling in a dark
corner, leaned forward a little.
The boy regarded the Inspector with puzzlement on his face, looking
from Queen to the body and back again. He was silent for a full minute,
while the Queens hung on his words. Then his face lit up suddenly and
he cried, “Why—yes, sir! He was wearin’ a hat—a shiny topper—when he
spoke to me!”
Inspector Queen looked pleased. “Go on, Jess—Doc Prouty! It’s taken you
a whale of a long time getting here. What held you up?”
A tall lanky man had come striding across the carpet, a black bag in
his hand. He was smoking a vicious-looking cigar with no apparent
concern for local fire rules, and appeared in something of a hurry.
“You said something there, Inspector,” he said, setting down the bag
and shaking hands with both Ellery and Queen. “You know we just moved
and I haven’t got my new phone yet. I had a hard day to-day and I was
in bed anyway. They couldn’t get hold of me—had to send a man around
to my new place. I rushed down here as fast as I could. Where’s the
casualty?”
He dropped to his knees in the aisle as the Inspector indicated the
body on the floor. A policeman was summoned to hold a flashlight as the
Assistant Medical Examiner worked.
Queen took Jess Lynch by the arm and walked him off to one side. “What
happened after he asked you for the ginger ale, Jess?”
The boy, who had been staring at the proceedings, gulped and continued.
“Well, sir, of course I told him that we didn’t sell ginger ale, only
orangeade. He leaned a little closer, and then I could smell the booze
on his breath. He says confidentially, ‘There’s a half a dollar in
it for you if you get me a bottle, kid! But I want it right away!’
Well—you know how it is—they don’t give tips nowadays.... Anyway,
I said I couldn’t get it that minute but that I’d duck out and buy
a bottle for him right after the second act started. He walked
away—after tellin’ me where he was sitting—I saw him go back into the
theatre. As soon as the intermission ended and the usherette closed the
doors, I left my stand in the alleyway and hopped across the street to
Libby’s ice-cream parlor. I—”
“Do you usually leave your stand in the alley, Jess?”
“No, sir. I always hop inside the doors with the stand just before she
locks the doors, and then take it downstairs to the lounge. But the
man said he wanted the ginger ale right away, so I figured I’d save
time by getting the bottle for him first. Then I thought I’d go back
into the alley, get my stand, and bring it into the theatre through the
front door. Nobody’d say anything.... Anyway, I left the stand in the
alley and ran over to Libby’s. I bought a bottle of Paley’s ginger ale,
sneaked it inside to this man, and he gave me a buck. Pretty nice of
him, I thought, seeing as how he’d only promised me four bits.”
“You told that very nicely, Jess,” said the Inspector with approval.
“Now, a few things more. Was he sitting in this seat—was this the seat
he told you to come to?”
“Oh, yes, sir. He said LL32 Left, and sure enough that’s where I found
him.”
“Quite right.” The Inspector, after a pause, asked casually, “Did you
notice if he was alone, Jess?”
“Sure thing, sir,” returned the boy in a cheerful tone. “He was sittin’
all alone on this end seat. The reason I noticed it was that the show’s
been packed ever since it opened, and I thought it was queer that there
should be so many seats empty around here.”
“That’s fine, Jess. You’ll make a detective yet.... You couldn’t tell
me how many seats were empty, I suppose?”
“Well, sir, it was kind of dark and I wasn’t payin’ much attention. I
guess it was about half a dozen, all told—some next to him in the
same row and some right in the row in front.”
“Just a moment, Jess.” The boy turned, licking his lips in honest
fright at the sound of Ellery’s low cool voice. “Did you see anything
more of that shiny topper when you handed him the bottle of ginger
ale?” asked Ellery, tapping the point of his neat shoe with his stick.
“Why, yes—yes, sir!” stammered the boy. “When I gave him the bottle he
was holding the hat in his lap, but before I left I saw him stick it
underneath his seat.”
“Another question, Jess.” The boy sighed with relief at the sound of
the Inspector’s reassuring voice. “About how long, do you reckon, did
it take you to deliver the bottle to this man after the second act
started?”
Jess Lynch thought gravely for a moment, and then said with finality,
“It was just about ten minutes, sir. We got to keep pretty close tabs
on the time, and I know it was ten minutes because when I came into the
theatre with the bottle it was just the part on the stage when the girl
is caught in the gang’s hang-out and is being grilled by the villain.”
“An observant young Hermes!” murmured Ellery, smiling suddenly. The
orangeade boy caught the smile and lost the last vestige of his fear.
He smiled back. Ellery crooked his finger and bent forward. “Tell me,
Jess. Why did it take you ten minutes to cross the street, buy a
bottle of ginger ale and return to the theatre? Ten minutes is a long
time, isn’t it?”
The boy turned scarlet as he looked appealingly from Ellery to the
Inspector. “Well, sir—I guess I stopped to talk for a few minutes with
my girl....”
“Your girl?” The Inspector’s voice was mildly curious.
“Yes, sir. Elinor Libby—her old man owns the ice-cream parlor. She—she
wanted me to stay there in the store with her when I went for the
ginger ale. I told her I had to deliver it in the theatre, so she
said all right but wouldn’t I come right back. And I did. We stayed
there a couple of minutes and then I remembered the stand in the
alley....”
“The stand in the alley?” Ellery’s tone was eager. “Quite so, Jess—the
stand in the alley. Don’t tell me that, by some remarkable whim of
fortune, you went back to the alley!”
“Sure I did!” rejoined the boy, in surprise. “I mean—we both did,
Elinor and me.”
“Elinor and you, eh, Jess?” said Ellery softly. “And how long were you
there?”
The Inspector’s eyes flashed at Ellery’s question. He muttered
approvingly to himself and listened intently as the boy answered.
“Well, I wanted to take the stand right away, sir, but Elinor and me—we
got to talking there—and Elinor said why not stay in the alley till
the next intermission.... I figured that was a good idea. I’d wait
till a few minutes before 10:05, when the act ends, and I’d duck down
for some more orangeade, and then when the doors opened for the second
intermission I’d be all ready. So we stayed there, sir.... It wasn’t
wrong, sir. I didn’t mean anything wrong.”
Ellery straightened and fixed the boy with his eyes. “Jess, I want you
to be very careful now. At exactly what time did you and your Elinor
get to the alley?”
“Well....” Jess scratched his head. “It was about 9:25 when I gave that
man the ginger ale. I went across for Elinor, stayed a few minutes and
then came over to the alley. Musta been just about 9:35—just about—when
I went back for my orangeade stand.”
“Very good. And what time exactly did you leave the alley?”
“It was just ten o’clock, sir. Elinor looked at her wrist-watch
when I asked her if it was time to go in for my orangeade refills.”
“You didn’t hear anything going on in the theatre?”
“No, sir. We were too busy talking, I guess.... I didn’t know anything
had happened inside until we walked out of the alley and I met Johnny
Chase, one of the ushers, standing there, like he was on guard. He told
me there was an accident inside and Mr. Panzer had sent him to stand
outside the left alley.”
“I see....” Ellery removed his pince-nez in some agitation and
flourished it before the boy’s nose. “Carefully now, Jess. Did anyone
go in or out of the alley all the time you were there with Elinor?”
The boy’s answer was immediate and emphatic. “No, sir. Not a soul.”
“Right, my lad.” The Inspector gave the boy a spanking slap on the back
and sent him off grinning. Queen looked around sharply, spied Panzer,
who had made his announcement on the stage with ineffectual results,
and beckoned with an imperative finger.
“Mr. Panzer,” he said abruptly, “I want some information about the
time-schedule of the play.... At what time does the curtain go up on
the second act?”
“The second act begins at 9:15 sharp and ends at 10:05 sharp,” said
Panzer instantly.
“Was to-night’s performance run according to this schedule?”
“Certainly. We must be on the dot because of cues, lights, and so on,”
responded the manager.
The Inspector muttered some calculations to himself. “That makes it
9:25 the boy saw Field alive,” he mused. “He was found dead at....”
He swung about and called for Officer Doyle. The man came running.
“Doyle,” asked the Inspector, “Doyle, do you remember exactly
at what time this fellow Pusak approached you with his story of the
murder?”
The policeman scratched his head. “Why, I don’t remember exactly,
Inspector,” he said. “All I do know is that the second act was almost
over when it happened.”
“Not definite enough, Doyle,” said Queen irritably. “Where are the
actors now?”
“Got ’em herded right over there back of the center section, sir,” said
Doyle. “We didn’t know what to do with ’em except that.”
“Get one of them for me!” snapped the Inspector.
Doyle ran off. Queen beckoned to Detective Piggott, who was standing a
few feet to the rear between a man and a woman.
“Got the doorman there, Piggott?” asked Queen. Piggott nodded and a
tall, corpulent old man, cap trembling in his hand, uniform shrunken on
his flabby body, stumbled forward.
“Are you the man who stands outside the theatre—the regular doorman?”
asked the Inspector.
“Yes, sir,” the doorman answered, twisting the cap in his hands.
“Very well. Now think hard. Did anyone—anyone, mind you—leave the
theatre by the front entrance during the second act?” The Inspector was
leaning forward, like a small greyhound.
The man took a moment before replying. Then he said slowly, but with
conviction, “No, sir. Nobody went out of the theatre. Nobody, I mean,
but the orangeade boy.”
“Were you there all the time?” barked the Inspector.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now then. Do you remember anybody _coming in_ during the second act?”
“We-e-ll.... Jessie Lynch, the orangeade boy, came in right after the
act started.”
“Anybody else?”
There was silence as the old man made a frenzied effort at
concentration. After a moment he looked helplessly from one face to
another, eyes despairing. Then he mumbled, “I don’t remember, sir.”
The Inspector regarded him irritably. The old man seemed sincere in
his nervous way. He was perspiring and frequently looked sidewise at
Panzer, as if he sensed that his defection of memory would cost him his
position.
“I’m awfully sorry, sir,” the doorman repeated. “Awfully sorry. There
might’ve been some one, but my memory ain’t as good as it used to be
when I was younger. I—I just can’t seem to recall.”