Another Murder
Canneziano did not come down for breakfast the following morning. I
thought that a little strange, for meals were the one thing he had
been real polite to ever since he had been on the Desert Moon.
As soon as breakfast was over, Miss MacDonald spoke to Sam and asked
him, as she had asked him that first morning, if she might detain him.
“You, also, Mrs. Magin,” she smiled at me.
“I wonder,” she said, as soon as we three were alone together, “if Mr.
Canneziano could have given us the slip, last night?”
“Not likely, with ten of the boys all drawing wages for watching the
place, and him in particular, is it?” Sam questioned.
“Not at all likely. Still. . . . Will you go and see whether or not he
is in his room, now, Mr. Stanley?”
Sam went. When he came back he had to drawl a lot more than usual to
keep his voice steady. “His door is locked. He doesn’t answer when I
pound on it.”
Miss MacDonald said, “I have an excellent pass key. Let’s go up and
try it.”
Curiosity dragged me along with her and Sam, though every bone in my
body protested.
Miss MacDonald’s key unlocked the door. The three of us went into the
room.
The blinds were tightly drawn. The electric fan was whirring and
buzzing away in the gray gloom.
Miss MacDonald crossed the room, quickly, and snapped up the blinds.
There was one long, hard, dusty shaft of yellow sunlight. Sam walked
through it to the bed where Canneziano was lying, huddled up under the
covers. I looked the other way.
I heard the rattle of Sam’s pipe as it fell on the floor. I heard the
rustle of Miss MacDonald’s quick movement. I heard a queer, throaty
note that she uttered. Something dragged my hot, aching eyes open. I
looked toward the bed. I saw Canneziano’s swollen, discolored face. I
saw the deep yellow throat, with great brutal bruises at its base. The
shaft of sunlight moved up and down, up and down, carving through the
swaying blackness like a long sharp knife.
I felt Sam’s strong hands on my shoulders, pressing me down into a
chair. I heard myself saying, shrilly, over and over, “What are we
going to do? What are we going to do?”
It was Miss MacDonald’s voice, cold and clear as spring water that
brought me to my senses. “We are going to find the murderer on the
Desert Moon Ranch.”
Sam said, “You’re damn right we are. And we are going to have half a
dozen he-men detectives on this place by to-morrow night.”
“Very well,” Miss MacDonald answered. “Will you telephone, at once,
for the coroner, Mr. Stanley?”
“Hell!” Sam said.
I had my face covered; but there was a hollowness in that oath of
Sam’s that told me, plainer than any looking at him could have told
me, that he was frightened; scared to the marrow of his bones.
It took Miss MacDonald, though, to understand the reason for his fear.
“Yes, Mr. Stanley,” she said, “these men, when they come this time, in
spite of their friendship for you, are not going to be as easily
satisfied as they were last time. They were able to blink at one
murder. They can’t keep on blinking. They dare not—even in Nevada.”
“Who wants them to blink?” Sam bluffed.
“You do. We all do, for the present.”
Sam did not answer that. He stood, and looked stupid.
“Won’t you listen to reason,” she urged, “before you go downstairs to
telegraph for other detectives? In talking to you this way, I am
putting all of my pride behind me, and I am violating my own code of
professional ethics; so I want to say, first, that if you will allow
me to remain on this case, I’ll take not one cent in payment. Wait——
Let me have my say out, and then you may have yours. My motives are
not entirely unselfish—motives seldom are. For one thing, I have never
been dismissed from a case. It is a humiliation I would pay any price
to avoid. I have other reasons—but no matter. That is my side of it.
“Your side of it is this. If, when the coroner and the others arrive
to-day, you confess that no progress has been made, they will
undoubtedly step in and take matters into their own bungling hands. I
think that they would make an arrest. That would be fatal, now. For I
am positive that they would arrest an innocent person, and that the
guilty person would then have an excellent opportunity for escape.
“I have a certain reputation, Mr. Stanley, and these men—particularly
the sheriff—respect it. If you will keep me on this case, I will tell
them that I am making definite progress. That I believe I shall be
able to turn the criminal over to the state within a comparatively
short time——”
“Would that be the truth?” Sam demanded.
She hesitated. “If you mean, is that what I believe now—my answer is
yes. I may be wrong. I have, at least, a very definite suspicion. I
have no proofs.”
“You wouldn’t,” Sam questioned, “give these men that assurance if you
knew that I was going to get some men detectives up here to work with
you?”
“I couldn’t,” she said. “I can speak only for myself. I do not, can
not work with detectives not of my own choosing. I would give any one
you brought here my notes—the definite results of my investigations so
far. I would have no right, now, to give him anything else.”
“In other words,” Sam said, “you don’t care a whoop about having the
murderer discovered unless you can do the discovering yourself, and
get the credit for it?”
“Sam Stanley!” I said.
Her cheeks flamed. “Please get your other detectives here as soon as
possible, if you wish them to consult with me before I leave for San
Francisco.”
John’s voice came calling down the hall. “Dad? Are you up here?”
“Wait!” Miss MacDonald commanded. “Tell him to wait a moment.”
Sam opened the door a crack. “I’ll be with you in a minute, son.” He
closed the door, and stood looking questions at Miss MacDonald.
She walked quickly across the room, and stopped close to Sam, facing
him. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, just now. I’m not going, unless you
force me to go. Please don’t. Please give me my chance. Do you realize
what it means to be tried for a murder, even if one is acquitted? I am
not asking this for myself. I wouldn’t stoop to beg for anything for
myself as I am begging for this, now. I am sure you mean to be a fair
man. Be fair to me, and to all of the innocent people here on your
ranch. I don’t say that other detectives might not be able to discover
the murderer. I do say that I am certain they would do irreparable
harm before they succeeded. . . .”
“If you stayed,” Sam had the cheek to question, “and worked along with
them—that was my idea—couldn’t you prevent their doing any harm?”
“I could try to. I will try to, if you insist. But I am doubtful of my
success. Consciously, or unconsciously they work against me, because I
am a woman. You don’t know them as I do. You don’t know their methods,
as I do. If you feel that you must have others here, working on the
case, allow me to send, at my own expense, for my own assistants; the
girls whom I have trained——”
“We don’t need any more girls around here,” Sam said. “It is pretty
certain that we do need someone to protect the lives of all of us on
this place——”
“When you telephone for the coroner,” she said, “won’t you telephone
for a locksmith to come out with him, and bring strong bolts for all
the doors——”
“You admit, then, that we are all in danger?”
“Nothing of the sort. You are all perfectly safe—at present. I do
believe that before long, my own life may be in danger. I want no one
to think that I suspect that. I need the protection of the bolts. It
must seem that I think that everyone needs the protection.”
“You believe,” Sam questioned, “that your own life is in danger. And
yet——”
“Please re-consider, Mr. Stanley. Please allow me to have the case
alone, at any rate for a little while longer.”
“Game!” Sam had muttered it to himself, but I had heard it. I knew
that she had won, for the present, at any rate.
“You honestly think,” he questioned, “that you can manage this single
handed, and keep us all safe, and produce this murderer—pretty
shortly?”
“I do, Mr. Stanley.”
“And you honestly think that other detectives coming here now might
make a peck of trouble, arrest the wrong person, and mess things up
generally?”
“I have never been more certain of anything. I think the fact that you
dismissed me, now, and sent for others, would be damning evidence
against innocence, to the men from Telko.
“Let me meet them, in my professional capacity, to-day, Mr. Stanley.
Let me meet them, not as a failure, but as a person confident of
success. I know that I can manage them, and send them away satisfied.
Mary, can’t you say something? Won’t you help me to persuade Mr.
Stanley?”
“You don’t need any help,” I told her. “He’s persuaded.”
“Is that true, Mr. Stanley? May I have the case alone, for a little
while longer?” She was all breathless with eagerness.
“Drat it all, yes,” Sam said. “I’m damned if I know what I ought to
do. But you are dead game. I—— Well, shake on it, Miss MacDonald.
You’ll do the best you can for us, I know that.”
The hand she held out to him was trembling, and her voice as she
thanked him trembled. But still I was amazed when, right after Sam had
gone out of the room, she said to me, “Mary, I believe on my soul that
I have just had an experience that is too strong for me,” and hid her
face in the crook of her arm and began to cry.