Читать книгу Beware The Pale Horse: A Wade Paris Mystery - Ben Benson - Страница 4

PARIS WENT ALONG THE CONCRETE PATH THAT SKIRTED the seaward side of the house. He went under a rose arbor. A bird chirped nearby. A man wearing a navy-blue police uniform was coming down the walk toward him. There was a large holstered revolver strapped to his side. Paris, coming up to him, saw the gold-plated shield, the visored cap with the gold band, and the gold-braided insignia with the word Chief on it. The man was short, bandy-legged and paunchy. His face was incongruously lean—tanned, leathery, and deeply seamed. There was a small white scar near the corner of his mouth. Paris put out his hand.

“I’m Wade Paris,” he said. “You must be the chief of police.” The man took his hand. “I’m Gus Kay,” he said. “I’m sure glad to see you, Inspector. They said you were coming.”

“We’re going to need your help,” Paris said.

“Well, that’s fine,” Kay said. “I’ve been waiting for something to do. But they’ve been so busy talking to the newspaper people, they ain’t had time for nothing else. It’s the first homicide we’ve ever had at White Sands Beach, so I don’t rightly know what the procedure is. But the way they’re carrying on, it’s kind of sacrilegious. Is that the way the state cops operate all the time?”

“No,” Paris said. “Only since we’ve had a new commissioner.”

“Then I’m glad of that,” Kay said. “The way they act is mighty queer, Inspector. I’ve been following your cases, and I keep a file of them, but from what I see, you ain’t going to be in charge here.”

“No,” Paris said.

“That’s what I thought. That Coyne and the Commissioner, they’re cosy, them two. Everybody can see what’s going on. If Coyne solves this case he’s going to get himself covered with glory.” Kay hesitated. “Maybe I’m talking out of turn but I’ll say it anyway. I kind of heard them talking this morning. They’ve got you here to run interference for Coyne. But if he don’t come up with anything, they’re going to let you take the rap for it. Did you know that, Inspector?”

Paris nodded his head. “Yes,” he said.

“Then it ain’t no surprise to you. You’re not going to do anything about it?”

“No,” Paris said. “You see, I was a friend of Dan Hallmark’s.”

“Then that makes a difference,” Kay said. “I met Dan Hallmark a couple of times. He was a good cop, Inspector.”

“Yes,” Paris said. “And a good friend. That’s why I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a briefing, Chief. I’d like to know about these Endicotts.”

“Sure,” Kay said. “Maybe we’d better get under those roses where there’s some shade. That sun is plenty strong.” He went in under the arbor. Paris followed him. Kay reached into his breast pocket and took out a pack of tiny Hack cigars. He offered one to Paris. Paris shook his head. The Chief lit up. He took off his cap, rubbed his sparse gray hair.

“Well,” he said, “the one who was killed was Charles Endicott, Junior. Mr. Charles we always called him. Everybody called him Mr. Charles, even when he was a little shaver. That’s because his father died when he was very young. The Endicotts owned almost all of White Sands Beach then, as well as the Point. Gave the beach away to the town, they did. They built the jetties so we’d get some nice sand. They built the wharf and the boat basin and the breakwater. Gave money every year to the Improvement Association. You couldn’t ask for finer civic-minded people. Mr. Charles was a handsome young fellow. About your age, Inspector. Tall like you, your shoulders. He was a good boy. Never showed his money.” He stopped and shook his head. “Too bad he had to go and get killed like that. But that’s what the Endicotts were like.”

“Was Mr. Endicott married?” Paris asked.

“No. He was engaged. The girl’s name is Karen Wyman. She’s been staying at the house here.”

“Who else was at the house last night?”

“Mrs. Endicott. She’s Mr. Charles’s mother. Then they’ve got two people in the servants’ wing. Elizabeth and Henry Davis. Elizabeth is the housekeeper and her husband is the handy man. They’ve also got a cook who comes in days.”

“Who else do the Endicotts know here at the beach?”

“The Endicotts never socialized much. Only a few friends. There’s George Hanft, their lawyer. He owns a big house on the beach. Then there’s an artist named Walter Almieda. He was a friend of Mr. Charles. He has a cottage on the beach too. Then, of course, there’s Mr. Noble. He’s staying at the White Sands Apartments. He ain’t really a friend. He works for the Endicotts.”

“What kind of work?” Paris asked.

“He’s a curator over at the Eastern City Art Museum. That’s where they have the Endicott Collection of Asiatic Art. This Mr. Noble handles it. The Endicotts have a big name in art.”

“I know,” Paris said. “All right, let’s get back to last night. I understand you were the first police official at the scene. Maybe you can tell me what happened.”

“Well, I guess I can. But don’t you have it in the report?”

“Yes. But I’d like to hear your version too.”

“Thanks,” Kay said. “I appreciate that. Nobody else yet has wanted me to talk about it. Last night, being Monday night, I was playing cards over at the White Sands Apartments. That’s owned by Eddie Hansen and he’s the chairman of the board of selectmen. We play poker over there every Monday night. It’s only a penny-ante game, but we’ve been playing there in Apartment Eleven for years now. I was holding a king-high flush and I was just about to give the pot a little bump. Al Coats came busting in to yell that Mr. Charles had been killed.”

“Who is Al Coats?”

“He’s my special. He’s a good kid. I work him nights during the summer season. He rides the car around. Coats told me the operator called him on the car telephone that Mr. Charles and another man were reported dead. He was patrolling the lower end of the beach then. He came and told me. I left the card game.”

“What time was it then?”

“Almost five past nine. I didn’t sound the siren. I put on the red spot blinker I have on the roof of the car and I took Al Coats with me and got over to the Endicott house. I saw Mr. Charles on the floor of the library and next to him, all huddled up, I recognized Dan Hallmark. They were both dead. I left young Coats guarding the library and I went into the hall and telephoned the Newgate Barracks.”

“And you didn’t touch anything?”

“I’m only a country cop,” Kay said. “I wouldn’t go in and putter around. I know better than that.”

“Where was Hallmark’s gun?”

“That’s what I looked to see first. It was in his holster and it hadn’t been fired. No, sir, that gun never left his holster.”

“Now Coyne has something else down. He says on the way to the Endicott house you met no cars. But you did see a small boat with an outboard motor. It was coming into the boat basin.”

“Yes,” Kay said, fingering his belt holster. “To tell the truth, I didn’t give it a thought then. I couldn’t see who was in the boat and I was anxious to get over to the house. Then Coyne tells me that the killer was in that boat and that I muffed it. I had the killer and I didn’t know it.”

“But you had no way of knowing,” Paris said.

“But I had him. That’s what gripes me.” He shook his head sadly. “I still don’t know what Dan Hallmark was doing there.”

“I’m going to tell you that,” Paris said. “But first, let’s get the time straightened out. You say it was about five past nine when Coats came to the White Sands Apartments?”

“Yes.”

“You left there and rode over to the Endicott house. You got there about ten past nine?”

“Yes.”

“When did Mr. Noble show up?”

“At nine-thirty. He drove up and said he had an appointment with Mr. Charles. He was shocked when I told him Mr. Charles was dead. I sent him upstairs to be with Mrs. Endicott. Five minutes later the troopers came from the Newgate Barracks, and five minutes after that Lieutenant Coyne showed up with the lab men. And at ten o’clock, the D. A. came with his assistants. Then they kept coming so fast I lost track.”

“And from then on Lieutenant Coyne took over?”

“That’s right. I still don’t know what’s going on.”

“You might as well know,” Paris said. “It’s your town. According to Coyne’s report, Mr. Endicott had a visitor last Friday afternoon. It was a young man, not too well dressed, good-looking, not more than twenty-one years of age, reddish-blond hair, tall, and rather thin. He wouldn’t give his name. He said he had something to sell. He had a box with him and he opened it up and inside was the statue of a horse. Endicott thought it was a rare Chinese antique and he was interested. The boy wanted ten thousand dollars for it.”

There was a small wrought-iron bench in the rose arbor. Paris sat down. Kay watched him stoically.

“All right,” Paris said. “Ten thousand dollars for the statue of a horse. It’s a lot of money. But Endicott would pay it if he knew it wasn’t stolen from somewhere. He asked the boy where he got it but the boy was evasive. Endicott asked him to leave the statue. That was so his curator, John Noble, could examine it to see if the statue was genuine. The boy refused to do this. However he did agree to bring back the statue Monday night at ten o’clock. Mr. Noble would be there then and he’d look it over. The boy was driving an old green sedan and when he left, Endicott took down the registration number.”

Kay took off his cap and scratched his head. “Did the boy see him do that?”

“That’s what we don’t know,” Paris said. “It’s possible the boy saw him through the rear-view mirror. Now Endicott did nothing about this Saturday and Sunday. But on Monday morning we know he left here and went into Eastern City. We don’t know if he looked up this registration number. But Monday evening he called the State Police and told them the whole story. He said the boy was supposed to come back that night at ten o’clock. Endicott had a .357 Smith and Wesson Magnum revolver in the desk drawer of his library. But he also wanted a cop there for protection. He was an Endicott, so they sent their best man. That was Lieutenant Hallmark.”

“I don’t understand it,” Kay said. “I’m the police here. Why didn’t he call me?”

“I don’t know that,” Paris said. “But he didn’t. Hallmark left his office at the Waretown County Courthouse at eight-thirty. It took him twenty minutes to get to the Endicott house. He was found dead fifteen minutes later. During that time no car was seen or heard driving up to the Endicott house. Not until you and Coats came.”

“Then Coyne is right,” Kay said. “That boy was in the boat. He came by water, killed both of them and took the boat back. He had seen Mr. Charles take down the registration number of his car. He cased the house for a couple of days, then he came an hour earlier last night. I’ve heard about those baby-faced killers. They could do a job like that and eat a ham sandwich at the same time.”

“And I’ve seen them too,” Paris said. “That’s the most logical way of looking at it and part of it might be right. Because there were a half-dozen rowboats tied up at the wharf of Sunset Harbor and the killer could have used any one of them.”

“Those boats belong to the cabin cruisers in the basin,” Kay said. “Whose boat did he use?”

“A Mr. Fred Lincolns,” Paris said. “Coyne sent a man over to the wharf. They found one of the motors was warm. But it was wiped clean of prints.”

“I know Mr. Lincoln,” Kay said. “A fine man. He owns the Lincoln Manufacturing Company and he’s had a summer home here for fifteen years.”

“I’ll go along with that too,” Paris said. “The killer just happened to pick his boat. They think the gun used is the one that was in the desk drawer, the .357 Magnum. That’s missing. From the type of the wounds, it was a power weapon. A Magnum is a gun with tremendous shock power. They’ve got the bullets and they’re calibrating them now at the lab. But without the gun, the micrometer reading isn’t much good. Bullets lose their shape once they’re fired.”

“I figured everything was scientific now,” Kay said.

“Up to a point,” Paris said. “Well, that’s the story to date, Chief.” He stood up and looked at the Endicott house. “Right now I’d like to talk to Mrs. Endicott. Would you come with me?”

“I sure would,” Kay said. “So far I ain’t been of much use around here. There’s troopers all around asking questions, but nobody’s told me to do anything. I sure want to help. I’d known Mr. Charles for a long time and I never knew a finer boy. It kind of hurts inside.”

“I know,” Paris said. “I’ve got the same hurt.”

“And something else keeps bothering me,” Kay said.

“What’s that?” Paris asked, walking with him toward the entrance of the house.

“You’re up against a killer who ain’t afraid of cops,” Kay said. “He’s killed one cop already, and he was a good one. That’s why you’d better watch yourself, Inspector. You come too close to him and he’ll try to get you too.”