Murray Leinster

“ Colby stood still, with thinning smoke coming out of the gun barrel, while the echoes died away to a dimming murmur among the trees, until even that sound was lost in the noise of the breeze in the bare branches overhead and the dry rustling of lingering brown leaves.
It was very peaceful, here among the trees. The brown clothing of the crumpled figure on the earth blended in color with the carpet of leaves. Any living creatures that might have been within hearing had been startled into immobility and silence by the shot. Colby had not yet moved even his feet after pulling the trigger. ”

“ Bernard dog with a little girl in an impossibly starched pink dress.
Colby swallowed nothing whatever, and tried to fight down utter terror. Nobody knew that Grahame was coming to Culpeper. Nobody would have dreamed of writing to Grahame in his care, except Nesbit. It was a trap of Nesbit’s. No doubt he had asked that a watch be kept in the post office, to see what Colby did with the letter—to see if he remailed it or destroyed it—to see what effect it had.
With a feeling of panic, Colby realized that he was already showing an effect. His face was ashen. His hands were shaking. ”

“ Colby’s murder plan was perfect—except at one point
By Murray Leinster This is a very instructive story. It deals with the value of a reputation, the best way to commit murder, what to do with embarrassing letters, and where stolen thousand-dollar bills may be exchanged or spent with the minimum discount—all of which information is useful; but mostly it deals with the value of a reputation.
Colby had thought about reputations rather carefully, but the sound of the shot with which he killed Grahame had not quite died away before he remembered the reputation of Detective Sergeant Nesbit. ”

“ The murderer bent over the huddled mass at his feet. Grahame would have ten thousand dollars on him. Colby searched for it industriously; but it is a curiously unhandy business to go through another man’s clothes. One’s hand catches, the linings follow one’s fingers out of the pockets, one spills things messily—especially if the other man happens to be dead.
Colby went into one pocket after another. A little trace of panic came over him. He found a cigarette case, a lighter, a handkerchief, a notebook, twenty or thirty dollars loose in a vest pocket. ”

“ He was fighting off a panic that he knew to be unreasonable, so he added: “We started back to town, but a car came along with one of Grahame’s friends in it. He was going on to Richmond, so Grahame got in with him. Saved him a train trip. I gave him the whole bag.”
“Yeah,” said Nesbit heavily. He drove in silence for a space. “I don’t reckon we realize how much city people like birds. We can get ’em when we want ’em. They can’t.”
“Grahame seemed to enjoy himself,” said Colby. ”

“ Also, perhaps, it was Nesbit’s way of showing that he was disturbed. It is upsetting to go to a man’s room for the sole purpose of inviting him to hunt with you, and have him confess a cold-blooded murder.
“All mixed up,” muttered Nesbit. “All fussed up over a killin’!”
Colby had been hopelessly wrong from the beginning. Nesbit’s acquaintance with Grahame had been limited to half an hour’s desultory talk in a smoking car, a year or more ago. The envelope that Colby had taken for a trap actually contained no more than the words:
Pete said you left this address in case of a telegram. ”

“ It was easy to push the dead body into the hollow, where it was well hidden. Few people ever came near this place, anyhow. No one would ever dream of creeping in there and risking a cave-in for no purpose. With one single rain of any size, the roof would probably collapse and bury Grahame securely. No one would ever think of looking for a missing man under a cave-in of that sort.
Colby climbed up the bank and tested the roof with his foot. ”

“ Nesbit checked the bills with a list of scribbled numbers in his notebook. He nodded. Thousand-dollar bills are much used in wholesale bootleg circles. That is the only place, in fact, in which stolen thousand-dollar notes are accepted with the minimum of discount. Colby’s tale was proven in its entirety by the numbers on the bills, because all banks and most police departments have their lists of stolen currency.
“What d’ye know about that?” asked Nesbit heavily. “What d’ye know about that? Everything in the world breakin’ his way, an’ he blows the works because he lost his nerve!” ”