The Almost Perfect Murder by Hulbert Footner (ereader for comics txt) đ
- Author: Hulbert Footner
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fitted the hole in the plaster of Dr. McCombâs office.
Steps were immediately taken to trace the sale of the pistol by means
of the manufacturerâs number, and in the meantime I was sent up-town to
secure some photographs of Dr. McComb if that were possible, and also
to run down Amadeo Corioli, the night watchman at the Institute, and
invite him to visit Mme. Storeyâs office. A policeman accompanied me
upon the latter errand, but as it happened, Corioli came quite
willingly. His air of innocence was almost too childlike. In taking
these measures Mme. Storey, you will perceive, was following a theory
that she had formulated in advance.
By the time I got back to the office it had already been established
that the gun in question had been sold on October 28th, to a
well-dressed, heavy-built man about forty years old; red-faced and
wearing glasses; had the look of a professional man. When photographs
of Dr. McComb were shown the clerk, he positively identified him as the
purchaser. McComb had been shot with his own gun.
The final links were forged by the testimony of little Tina, the girl
who had been so rudely ejected from Luigiâs. The police rounded her up
and brought her to our office shortly before noon. Corioli, meanwhile,
was being detained in our back room. Still wearing her bedraggled
party dress, her make-up ruined by tears, and almost paralysed with
terror, Tina was indeed a pitiable little object. Mme. Storey applied
herself to soothing her fears. It was a long time before she could
persuade Tina that she was not accused of anything herself, but was
merely wanted as a witness.
âWe know,â said Mme. Storey, âthat Chico Cardone shot a man called Dr.
McComb on the night of November 9th.â
This was news to me, and I strongly doubted if my employer was sure of
it yet either. It is frequently necessary, of course, to take this
attitude in dealing with a witness.
âI donât know nottinâ about it!â cried Tina. âI swear before God I
donât know nottinâ!â
âYou are not suspected of knowing anything about it,â Mme. Storey
patiently explained. âI just want you to answer a few questions
referring to circumstances that led up to it.â
âI donât know nottinâ about it,â wailed Tina.
âYou wouldnât want to see Chico go to the chair, would you?â
This was answered by a mute shake of the head amidst a fresh flood of
tears.
âThen if you help me to prove that someone was behind him in this
killing, that somebody put him up to it, he will get off easier.â
At this point Corioli was introduced into the room.
âHave you ever seen this man before?â asked Mme. Storey.
Corioli scowled a mute threat at the girl, but she answered truthfully.
âYes, I see him. He come to Luigiâs sometime. Evâbody at Luigiâs know
him.â
âDid he ever bring a stranger to Luigiâs?â
âYes. One time he bring a man from up-town.â
âWhat sort of looking man?â asked Mme. Storey.
âBig man,â said Tina; âred face; wear glasses. Look lika politician.â
âLook at these,â said Mme. Storey, calling the girlâs attention to the
photographs of Dr. McComb spread upon her desk. âDid you ever see this
man?â
âSure,â said Tina with rising excitement; âthat is the up-town guy
Amadeo bring to Luigiâs. You know tâat? How you know tâat?â
âWhen was this?â asked Mme. Storey.
Tina shrugged. âHow can I tell? It was before election, because I
tâink he was politician.â
âLong before election?â
The girl shook her head. âJusâ two, târee days.â
âSee if you canât fix the exact night in your mind,â said Mme. Storey
persuasively.
Tina shook her head helplessly. However, after thinking it over for a
moment or two, she suddenly said: âIt was Wednesday night. I know that
because the next night there was an orchester. Luigi hires an
orchester Thursday nights.â
âThe Wednesday before election,â said Mme. Storey turning back the
pages of her desk calendar; âthat was October 27th. Good! Now we are
making progressâŠ. What happened on this Wednesday night?â
âAmadeo Corioli, he call Chico over,â said Tina. âIntroduce him to the
up-town guy. They talk quiet. By and by Amadeo go away anâ the
up-town fella and Chico they talk long time so quiet. I know they
fixinâ up some job togetâer. Afterwards I ask Chico what he want but
Chico onây laughâŠ. The nexâ night he come again âŠâ
âSo he came again the next night?â repeated Mme. Storey.
âYes. That was the orchester night. I wouldnât dance because I scare
for Chico. I watch them two. They not talk so long this night. I see
the up-town guy slip Chico little box under the table and Chico put it
in his pocket. When the uptown feller go home, Chico go in wash-room.
After he come out I find the little box empty on the wash-room floor,
and the paper and stringâŠâ
âWas there anything written on the box? any label?â asked Mme. Storey
eagerly.
âThere was a label say: âOne Rives and Jackson automatic pistol, 38
calibre.ââ
âThis was on the night of October 28th,â said Mme. Storey in high
satisfaction, âand we already know that Dr. McComb had bought the gun
that afternoon. On the following day Chico scraped acquaintance with
Dr. Portal. Our case is complete!â
I was far from seeing it myself at that moment. When the witnesses had
been taken away and my employer and I were alone, I said helplessly: âI
canât understand it! It seems that Dr. McComb himself handed the gun
to Chico with which Chico shot him ten days later!â
Mme. Storey was in a deep study. âThink it over,â she said with a
provoking smile. â⊠The problem that confronts me is, what to do
with Chico?â
As a result of her deliberations she finally called up the District
Attorney, also Inspector Rumsey and Dr. Portal, and arranged for us all
to meet at the Institute after lunch, and for the Inspector to bring
Chico. The District Attorney at this time was Frank Everard, a
first-class man, and one with whom we maintained excellent relations.
And so the last scene of all took place in the bare little laboratory
office with Dr. Portal, all in white, presiding over it like a
disembodied face. From time to time I saw him glancing wistfully at
Chico, and I suppose he still felt a sneaking fondness for the lad.
And I confess I did myself. At this moment my heart was heavy for the
little gunman. Chico, of course, had resumed his hard, professional
air. His face was like a mask.
Mme. Storey said: âDr. Portal, I promised I would not trouble you again
until I had found the man who shot Edgar McCombâŠ. Well, there he is.â
âIâm sorry ⊠Iâm sorry,â murmured Dr. Portal commiseratingly. âWhy
did he do it?â
âWhy did you do it, Chico?â asked Mme. Storey.
âI ainât sayinâ I done it,â replied Chico with a hardy swagger. âI
ainât sayinâ nottinâ a tall.â
âWell, Iâll tell you why he did it,â said Mme. Storey gravely. âMcComb
had hired him to shoot Dr. Portal.â
We all exclaimed in astonishment. âOh, good God! ⊠no!â gasped the
horrified Dr. Portal.
âWhen he saw that the poliomyelitis serum was going to be a success
McComb wished to reap the full glory,â she went on relentlessly. âHe
foresaw that it would be one of the great accomplishments of science
that would make its discoverer forever famous.â
âWhat saved Dr. Portal?â asked the District Attorney.
âAt the moment that Chico had his gun in his hand Dr. Portal saved
himself by speaking of what he was about to do for the children. As it
happens, Chico has a young brother who is the dearest thing on earth to
him.â
Chico suddenly lowered his head. The poor lad could not bear to have
us see the softness that overcame him at the mention of Tony.
âI suppose Chico brooded upon it afterwards,â Mme. Storey went on. âIt
occurred to him that McComb could easily find another instrument to
carry out his will. He shot McComb to save PortalâŠ. Iâm not saying
that his reasoning was very good, but anyhow, that is what happened.â
âStrange are the workings of the human heart!â murmured Dr. Portal.
The rest of us were silent in amazement.
âI called you gentlemen together to put it up to you what is to be done
with Chico?â Mme. Storey went on. âHe killed the man, and ordinarily
it would be our duty to let justice take its course with him. But it
seems to me that this is a case where justice would not be justice.
How can we punish him for acting upon what was a generous impulse,
however misguided? And how can we let him bear the brunt when the real
instigator of this crimeâI refer to Mrs. McCombâcannot be reached by
the law? What do you say, Mr. District Attorney?â
Mr. Everard did not answer immediately. He looked very uncomfortable.
Dr. Portal broke the silence by saying in his quiet, deliberate way:
âI have a solution to propose.â
Everybody looked at him. Chico forgot his unnatural self-control, and
gazed at him with the wild hope of any lad in the shadow of the
electric chair.
âI need a human subject in my experiments,â said Dr. Portal. âIf Chico
is willing âŠâ
âWhat does the District Attorney say?â asked Mme. Storey quickly.
Everardâs face cleared. âI say that if Chico volunteers this,â he
replied unhesitatingly, âI will not undertake a prosecution.â
âThen, Chico, it is up to you,â she said with a curious gentleness.
âI ⊠I donât get it,â he said hoarsely.
âListen, Chico,â said Dr. Portal rising. There was something
magnificent about the little man at that moment; the disembodied face
was pure intelligence. âI propose to make you sick with this disease
that you know about, poliomyelitis or infantile paralysis, and then I
propose to cure you with my new remedy. I believe that I can cure you,
or I would not propose the experiment, but there is a certain risk, of
course, because it has not been tried before on a human being.â
Chicoâs lips were parted. He was breathing hoarsely. âAnd ⊠and if
it works,â he stammered, âthen you can give it to all the kids that
gets sick?â
âThat is the idea.â
âBut ⊠but my kid!â cried the poor lad; âsuppose it donât work?
Suppose I kick out, or ainât able to do nottinâ no more? What will
happen to Tony?â
âOh, let me take that on myself,â said Dr. Portal, deeply moved; âlet
me bring him up as if he were my own son.â
âIâd like to share in that,â said Mme. Storey quickly.
âAnd I,â murmured the District Attorney.
Chico stiffened his back, and endeavoured to call back the old swagger.
âAll right, Doc, Iâm on!â he said flippantly. âBut make it snappy,
Doc. Donât let me be tâinkinâ about it too long.â
âNowâs as good a time as any,â said Dr. Portal. âCome on upstairs.â
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It Never Got into the Papers
ICommodore Varick died very suddenly about half-past five in the
afternoon. The cause of death was given as heart failure induced by a
violent attack of gastritis.
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