CARROLL MAKES A MOVE
No slightest move of Warren's erstwhile valet--no twitching of facial
muscles, no involuntary gesture of nervousness, however slight--escaped
Carroll's attention; but with all his watchfulness, the boyish-looking
investigator was unostentatious, almost retiring in his manner.
And this modest demeanor was having its effect on William Barker, just as
Carroll had known it would have, and as Leverage had hoped. Eric Leverage
had worked with Carroll before, and he had seen the man's personal charm,
his sunny smile, his attitude of camaraderie, perform miracles. People
had a way of talking freely to Carroll after he had chatted with them
awhile, no matter how bitter the hostility surrounding their first
meeting. Carroll was that way--he was a student of practical every-day
psychology. He worked to one end--he endeavored to learn the mental
reactions of every one of his _dramatis persoae_ toward the fact of the
crime he happened to be investigating; that and, as nearly as possible,
their feelings at the moment of the commission of the crime, no matter
where they might have been.
"It doesn't matter what a suspect says," he had told Leverage once. "Some
of them tell the truth and some of them lie. Often the truth sounds
untrue, while the lies carry all the earmarks of honesty. It's a sheer
guess on the part of any detective. What I want to know is how my man
felt at the time the crime was committed--not where he was; and how he
feels now about the whole thing."
"But the facts themselves are important," argued the practical chief
of police.
"Granted! But when you have facts, you don't need a detective. I'd rather
have a suspect talk freely and never tell the truth than have him be
reticent and stick to a true story."
Leverage's reply had been expressive of his opinion of Carroll's almost
uncanny ability.
"Sounds like damned nonsense," said he; "but it's never failed you yet.
And even you couldn't get away with it if you lost that smile of yours!"
Right now he was witnessing the magic of Carroll's smile. He had seen the
antagonism slowly melt from Barker's manner. The nervousness was still
there, true; but it seemed tinged with an attitude which was part
friendliness toward Carroll and part contempt for his powers. That, too,
was an old story to Leverage. More than one criminal had tripped over the
snag of underrating Carroll's ability.
Barker's last statement--"Warren, he was a bird with the women!"--was
true. Leverage knew it was true. Carroll knew it was true. There was the
ring of truth about it. It mattered not whether Barker had an iron of his
own in the fire--it mattered not what else he said which was not
true--the two detectives knew that they had extracted from him a fact,
the relative importance of which would be established later.
Just at present, knowledge that the dead man had been somewhat of a
philanderer seemed of considerable importance. For one thing, it
established the theory that he had been planning an elopement with the
woman in the taxicab. That being the case, a definite task was
faced--first, find the woman; then find some man vitally affected by her
elopement with Warren.
Carroll betrayed no particular interest in Barker's statement. Instead,
he smiled genially, a sort of between-us-men smile, which did much to
disarm Barker.
"A regular devil with 'em, eh, Barker?"
"You spoke a mouthful that time, Mr. Carroll! What he didn't know about
women their own husbands couldn't tell him."
"Married ones?"
"Oh, sure! He was a specialist with them."
"Then most of this gossip we've been hearing has a basis of fact?"
A momentary return of caution showed in Barker's retort.
"I don't know just what you've been hearin'."
"A good many stories about his love affairs--with women who were
prominent socially."
Barker shrugged.
"Most likely they're true; although it's a safe bet that a heap of 'em
was lies. Men folks have a way of lyin' about women that way, even where
they'll tell the truth about everything else. They've got women beaten
ninety-seven ways gossiping about that sort of thing."
"You know a thing or two yourself, Barker?"
The man flushed with pleasure.
"Oh, I ain't nobody's pet jackass, when it comes to that!"
"Now you"--Carroll's tone was gentle, almost hypnotic--"of course you
know who the woman is that Mr. Warren was planning to elope with?"
"I know--"
Suddenly Barker paused, and his face went white. He compressed his lips
with an effort and choked back the words. Leverage, leaning forward in
tense eagerness--knowing the verbal trap that Carroll had been
planting--sighed with disappointment, and relaxed.
"Say, what the hell are you driving at!"
"Nothing." One would have sworn that Carroll was surprised at Barker's
flare of anger--or else that it had passed unnoticed. "I just figured
that you, having been his valet, and knowing a good deal about him, would
have knowledge of this."
"He wasn't in the habit of discussin' his lady friends with me," growled
the ex-valet surlily.
"Of course he wasn't; but you know, of course? You guessed?"
"No, I didn't do nothin' of the kind. Say, what are you tryin' to
do--trip me up or somethin'?"
"Of course not. Why should I be interested in tripping you up?"
"You was sayin'--"
"Don't be foolish, Barker! It wouldn't do me a bit of good to--er--trip
you up. All I want is whatever knowledge you have which may prove of
interest in solving this case."
The man's eyes narrowed craftily.
"You ain't got no suspicions yourself, have you?"
"Suspicions of what?"
"Who that dame in the taxicab was."
Carroll laughed infectiously.
"Goodness, no! If I had, I wouldn't be seated here chatting with you."
Again the expression of relief flashed across Barker's face--a bit
of play lost by neither detective. Carroll was toying idly with a
gold pencil on the end of his waldemar. His outward calmness
exasperated Leverage. From this point of the interview, the chief of
police would have dropped the attitude of trustful friendliness and
resorted to a little practical third-degree stuff. He was fairly
quivering with eagerness to bluster about the room and extract
information by main force.
And a hint of Leverage's mental seethe must have been communicated to
Carroll, for the younger man turned the battery of his sunny gaze upon
the chief of police and nodded reassuringly. The effect was
instantaneous. Leverage's temporary resentment departed much as the gas
escapes from a pin-punctured balloon. He gave ear to Barker's speech.
"N'r you ain't the only one who don't know who that woman was. _I_
don't!"
"You knew he was planning to elope, though?"
The man shook his head doggedly.
"I knew he was leavin' the city for good, if that's what you mean."
"No-o, not exactly. I knew that much myself. What interests me is
this--was he planning to leave with some woman?"
Barker hesitated before replying, and when he did answer it was patent
that his words were chosen carefully.
"I don't hardly reckon he was, Mr. Carroll. Mind you, I'm not sayin' he
wasn't; but then again I ain't sayin' he was. I can't do nothin' only
guess--same as you can."
"I see!" Carroll was apparently unconscious of Barker's flagrant
evasion. "What I don't understand is this--when Mr. Warren was publicly
engaged to Miss Gresham, why did he try to elope with her?"
"Elope with Miss Gresham?" Barker paused; then a slow, calculating smile
creased his lips. "Miss Gresham--her he was engaged to! Dog-gone if I
don't believe you've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Carroll!"
"What nail?"
"About her bein' the woman in the taxi. You know some fellers is like
that--they'd a heap rather elope with a woman they're crazy about than
stand up in a church and get married. They're sort of romantic." Barker
was waxing loquacious. "You know, you must be right. Fact, if you put it
right up to me, I'd say there wasn't no doubt that Miss Gresham was the
woman in the taxicab."
"I had that idea," responded Carroll slowly. "But what I can't
understand, Barker, and what you might help me figure out, is this--why
should Miss Gresham kill Mr. Warren?"
"Huh! Ask me somethin' easy, will you? I never was good at riddles."
Leverage marveled at the change in the two men. Apparently Carroll had
swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Of course, Leverage was pretty sure
that he had not; but he was also sure that Barker thought he had. And
Barker was volunteering information--plenty of it--that was absolutely
valueless. For the first time he was forcing the conversational pace, and
Carroll seemed serenely content to drag limply along.
"Reckon she might have been jealous of him?" drawled Carroll.
"Jealous? Maybe. I ain't sayin' she wasn't. Of course, she must have
heard a good many things about him and other women; and when a woman gets
downright jealous there ain't much sayin' what she wouldn't do. Not that
I'm sayin' Miss Gresham croaked him. I ain't sayin' nothin' positive; but
if you're askin' me who he'd most naturally elope with, why I'd say it
was the girl he was engaged to marry. If he wasn't going to marry her,
what did he ever get engaged to her for?"
Carroll nodded.
"Certainly sounds reasonable." He paused, and then: "Where were you about
midnight last night?"
"I was"--Barker's figure stiffened defensively, and his eyebrows drew
down over the deep-set eyes--"I was just shootin' some pool."
"Shooting pool?"
"Un-huh!"
"Where?"
"At Kelly's place."
"Where is that?"
The man hesitated, flushed, and then, somewhat sullenly:
"On Cypress Street."
"That's pretty close to the Union Station, isn't it?"
"Not so close."
"About how far away?"
Again the momentary hesitation.
"'Bout a half-block."
"And you were shooting pool there?"
"Sure I was! I c'n prove it."
Carroll grinned disengagingly.
"You don't need to prove anything to me, Barker. And for goodness' sake
get the idea out of your head that I'm suspecting you of anything. I had
to talk matters over with you. You knew more about the dead man than any
one else; but I couldn't think you had anything to do with it, could I?
You're not a woman!"
Barker grinned sheepishly.
"That's all right, Mr. Carroll. And as for me bein' a woman--well, you're
sure a woman killed him, ain't you?"
"As sure as any one can be. And now"--Carroll rose--"I'm tremendously
obliged for all the information you've given me. Any time you run
across anything more that you think might prove of interest, look me
up, will you?"
"Sure! Sure!" Barker's tone was almost hearty. "You're a regular feller,
Mr. Carroll--a regular feller!"
The two detectives departed. Carroll spoke to Cartwright as he passed:
"Keep both eyes on that fellow Barker," he ordered curtly. "I'll
send Reed up to team with you. Don't let him get away. Nab him if he
tries it."
Cartwright nodded briefly, and Carroll and Leverage climbed into the
former's car. As they rounded the corner, Leverage turned wide eyes upon
his professional associate.
"Carroll?"
"Yes?"
"You beat the Dutch!"
"How so?"
"You didn't swallow that bird's yarn, did you?"
"Of course not," answered Carroll calmly.
"I didn't think so; but you had me worried, with that innocent look of
yours. Me, if I was wantin' to play safe on this case, I'd arrest William
Barker _pronto_."
"Why?"
"Because," snapped Leverage positively, "I think he was mixed up in
Warren's murder!"
"Aa-ah!" Carroll refused to become excited. "You do?"
"Yes, I do. What do you think?"
"I think this," answered Carroll. "I think that Mr. William Barker knows
a great deal more about the case than he has told!"