Death Points A Finger Part 26

Chapter XV

As Professor Brierly, followed by the two younger men stepped into the busy city room, Hite held up a sheaf of telegrams that had come for the old scientist during his short absence. Professor Brierly took them as. .h.i.te said, "When you get through with these, Professor, I'll give you a message, a verbal message that I've got for you."

Professor Brierly quickly ran through the messages. He looked up:

"You know, I inst.i.tuted inquiry for one Amos Brown, who is thought by some members of the Tontine group to have been the only surviving member of the group known as '14'. Several of the men told me they had reason to believe that it was he who used to send the blank sheets of paper with the number '14' on it. But inquiry showed that they had really no proof of his being alive after 1902. Subsequent to that they only got those messages to remind them of his existence.

"These telegrams inform me that Amos Brown died in 1902 on the outskirts of South Bend, Ind. But he was survived by a son and a grandson. The son, according to my informants, died about three years later. The grandson, who was also named Amos Brown, was last heard of somewhere in the New England States.

"My informants tell me that the grandson is now about thirty-five years old, if he is alive.

"So you see, there is an Amos Brown who might have inherited along with his grandfather's other possessions, his vendetta, his lifelong hatred for our Tontine group. But I am expecting more detailed information that may place this grandson definitely. Now what is the message you had for me, Mr. Hite?"

"Our man who covers headquarters, Professor, saw 'Fingy' Smith a few minutes after he was booked and charged. 'Fingy' insists on seeing you, personally."

Professor Brierly made a grimace of distaste.

"I do not like it. I do not like the atmosphere of a prison. I suppose I ought to go. If the poor man is innocent he needs help badly. He is caught in a net of circ.u.mstantial evidence that may send him to the electric chair. If I were certain he is innocent, I should not hesitate."

He bent his head in thought. After a long pause he looked up, his eyes troubled.

"I shall go, Mr. Hite. Can it be arranged?"

"Sure it can. After what McCall said, they'll not raise any obstacles to anything you want to do. I'll have Hale go along with you."

"Have you heard from your reporters about the telephone call, Mr.

Hite?"

Hite's eyes gleamed. "Yep. I heard from 'em. You sure got a bull's eye then, Professor. The records show that someone called Flynn's home just about when the explosion occurred. The man in the filling station remembers that a guy called about that time. He can't give a very good description. There was no car, Professor.

The man at the service station says he saw the man go into the patch of woods. He thought at the time that was because he wanted to get to the scene of the explosion. For that matter everybody in the road was trying to get there. A few minutes afterward, the man at the filling station says he saw a man wheel a motorcycle out of the woods and ride past. He kinda thought it was the same man, though he didn't take particular notice. They were all excited about the explosion. That means that the man probably had his motorcycle parked in the woods, while he was waiting for Flynn to come home.

"Does that help you, Professor?"

"No, except that it corroborates a theory I had about the matter.

It merely fits in with the rest of the devilish pattern."

No difficulty was encountered when the three men came to the Tombs. Sergeant Conners was there ahead of them. He was not going to permit the prisoner to work a sympathetic gag on the old scientist. Conners realized that Brierly had considerable influence. If 'Fingy' could induce the old man to use his influence in his behalf, it would not be so easy to convict him.

'Fingy' was not pleased at the presence of the police officer. He made the best of it however. He realized that he was not in a position where he could dictate terms.

"Professor," he began, "I don't know about this taking an impression of my mouth and the other new fangled scientific bunk.

But I know about you. I hear you're a straight shooter and I want to spill the whole thing to you."

He gulped painfully and after a glance at the police officer he went on:

"All the police is after is a record, see? And even the D.A.'s office is the same. When the D.A. gets you before the jury he'll do what he can to send you to the hot seat.

"Well I'm gonna give you the straight of this, Professor. Like I said, I was giving a party to some friends of mine that night.

Early in the evening I get into a studd game on Second Avenue and go broke, see? Cleaned, Professor. And here's this party comin'

off with some good guys and nice gals comin'.

"All I had in the apartment was about a quart and a half of gin and a little rye. Not a thing to eat, not even a slice of bread or a drop of ginger ale.

"So what do I do? I breaks into a delicatessen store and gets a load of stuff. That was just about ten o'clock, the time the papers say old man Schurman is croaked."

Sergeant Conners, who had listened with a sneer now emitted a loud snort. The prisoner cast in his direction a fleeting look of defiance. His eyes returned to Professor Brierly who had been staring at him intently, while his tale unfolded. He continued:

"I know this sounds fishy, and what I'm gonna say now sounds even more so, mebbe, but if you'll just listen to me, sir, I'll prove what I say.

"This delicatessen store is a little place on Grove Street near Eighth Avenue. Now you can think that I hears about this delicatessen store being broke in and I tells you about it because the real thief ain't comin' to the front to say he done it. You can think I can't prove it; you can think this ain't much of a alibi. But just listen, Professor. Look at this!"

He sprang from his chair and tore off his coat and vest. Conners had also sprung to his feet, but subsided when he saw that the prisoner did not contemplate violence. The prisoner in his haste to unb.u.t.ton his outer shirt, ripped the b.u.t.tons. He exposed his arm high up near the shoulder. He showed a ragged scar several days old.

'Fingy' continued:

"See this, Professor? When I was takin' some things from the shelves in the delicatessen store, I rips my coat and get this scratch on a nail stickin' out from the shelf. The nail is three shelves up from the floor near the last showcase on the right as you go in."

Smith stopped. He was panting as though he had been running. Sweat was streaming from his brow. He crumpled the shirt and wiped his face with it. He began slowly putting on his shirt.

Professor Brierly was not looking at the prisoner. He was looking at the police officer. In the latter's features incredulity was struggling with something else for expression. Professor Brierly snapped his fingers.

"Hale, this must be verified! John, go with him; take the nail.

Wait! Get an instrument and draw a drop of blood from Smith here.

Compare it with the blood you find on the nail, if you find any.

And--" He whirled on the prisoner.

"Where is the coat and shirt that were torn on the nail?"

"Still up in my apartment, I guess."

"Go on, John. Get the nail and the clothes; go on to our house, make the necessary tests as soon as you can."

At Jimmy's request, before he departed on his errand to the delicatessen store, Professor Brierly was escorted to the office of the Eagle by two plainclothes men who were ordered to shoot, and shoot to kill, at the slightest suspicious movement against the old scientist.

Hite went into blazing activity when Professor Brierly recounted the result of his errand to the Tombs. Men, women and boys were sent scurrying to various sections of the city. The city editor barked an order into a telephone in response to which the tremor of the presses which shook the building, ceased.

A rewrite man tactfully got from Professor Brierly the salient features of the newest angle to the story.

Matthews was nodding his head emphatically as he came into the city room and his glance met that of his mentor.

"It fits, Professor," he was saying. "The delicatessen store was robbed about the time Smith said it was; the nail was there, the head covered with blood. There was a tear in his coat and shirt.

There was some blood on the garments. The blood on the nail and the clothes are of the same type as that of Smith. It might be all Smith's."

Jimmy went to the telephone and called up a high police official, a very much hara.s.sed official, one whose peace had been very much disturbed by the activities of the remarkable old gentleman. The papers, his superiors, the D.A.'s office had been riding him unmercifully. Now, when they had a crook whom the crime fitted so well, this crazy old scientist had to come along and spoil it all with his queer doings.

Jimmy, in short crisp sentences told this individual of the latest developments of the Tontine murders. He concluded by asking:

"What are you going to do about this, Mr. Englehardt, and what are you going to do with 'Fingy' Smith?"