Octavus Roy Cohen

“ No-o, I think we'd better not arrest the man unless he forces our hand—tries to jump town, or something like that. Better let him remain at large and talk frequently. If he has anything to betray, there's more chance that he'll do it that way. Don't you think I'm right?"
"I wouldn't admit it if I didn't, Carroll. I've seen you in action too often to believe you're ever wrong."
Carroll flushed boyishly.
"Don't be absurd, Leverage! I'm often wrong—very wrong. And don't think that I'm a transcendent detective; they don't really exist, you know. ”

“ Then he saw the big doors at the main entrance of the station open and a few melancholy passengers, brought to town by the accommodation train, step to the curb, glance about in search of a street-car, and then duck back into the station. Spike shoved his clutch in and crawled forward along the curb, leaving the inky shadows of the far end of the station, and emerging finally into the effulgence of the arc at the corner of Cypress Street. ”

“ He was already determined to keep away from No. 981 East End Avenue. There was something sinister in the unfriendly shadow of the rambling house. He might call the police.
That was it—he would call the police. But how? Go into a house near by, wake the residents, telephone headquarters that a murder had been done? Alarm the neighborhood, and identify himself with the crime? Spike was afraid, frankly and boyishly afraid—afraid of the present, and more afraid of the future. ”

“ Before he finished, the doorbell rang, and Freda announced that there was a lady to see him.
"A lady?"
Freda shrugged.
"She ain't bane nothin' but a girl, sir, Mr. Carroll—just a little girl."
"Show her in."
In two minutes Freda returned, and behind her came the visitor. Carroll concealed a smile at sight of her. She was a little thing—sixteen or seventeen years old, he judged—a fluffy, blond girl quivering with vivacity; the type of girl who is desperately reaching for maturity, entirely forgetful of the charms of her adolescence. He rose and bowed in a serious, courtly manner. ”

“ I told her she was crazy—because I really don't think there's anything so very terrible about you—do you?"
"At least," smiled Carroll, "I won't eat you. But what you tell me about Miss Gresham is interesting. Why in the world should she be prejudiced against the man who is trying to locate the slayer of her fiancé?"
"Ask me something easy. I reckon it's just like I said before: when a woman grows up—gets to be twenty—she gets mentally unbalanced—or something. Honestly, I haven't met a woman over nineteen years of age in the longest time who didn't have a crazy streak in her somewhere. ”

“ He tried to light a cigarette, but his fingers were unable to hold the match.
He looked around. A street-car, bound for a suburb, passed noisily. It paused briefly before the railroad-station, neither discharging nor taking on a passenger, then clanged protestingly on its way. Impressed in Spike's mind was a mental picture of the chilled motorman, and of the conductor huddled over the electric heater within the car. Spike felt a personal resentment against that conductor. Comfort seemed unfair on a night like this; heat a luxury more to be desired than much fine gold. ”

“ Leafless trees stretched their ice-covered tentacles into the cold, penetrating air; pedestrians and horses slipped on the glassy pavements; automobiles either skidded dangerously or set up an incessant rattle with their chains.
Carroll glanced at his watch. It showed nine o'clock. He started with surprise. Then he reached for the newspapers on the table at the side of his bed, and spread open the front pages.
They had evidently been made up anew with the breaking of the Warren murder story. ”

“ Carroll gazed at the girl before him with new interest. Out of her chatter he had at last garnered one important fact. His mind, trained to seize upon the vital and instantly discard the inconsequential, clutched the bit of information, and turned it over. From the first Carroll had scouted the idea that the dead man's fiancee might have been responsible for his death; but still it was a line of investigation which demanded examination, and his pretty young visitor was making that road exceedingly simple. ”

“ It is upon that weakness that I am banking—particularly so in the case of Barker."
"I insist that you're a wonder, Carroll!"
"And I insist that you're foolishly complimentary. Did you ever stop to realize, Eric, that when a crime is committed the advantage lies entirely with the detective? The detective can make a thousand mistakes during the course of his investigations and still trap his man; but the criminal cannot make one single error—not one!" ”

“ 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. ”

“ She was not exactly the type of person he had anticipated encountering in a murder investigation. From the tip of her pert little hat to the toes of her ultra-fashionable shoes she was expressive of the independent rising generation—a generation wiser in the ways of the world than that from which it was sprung—a generation strangely bereft of genuine youth, yet charming in an entirely modern and unique manner. ”

“ I always eat chocolate fudge sundaes. They're simply scrumptious—but they do take the edge off one's dinner appetite. Personally, I don't care so very much. I believe we eat too much anyway, don't you, Mr. Carroll? I read in a book once that after you reach a certain point in eating—that is, after you've swallowed just the right number of calories—the rest don't do you a single particle of good. And besides, ice-cream is healthy, and certainly there's nothing with more nourishment in it than chocolate—unless it is raisins. ”

“ Why, you poor fish—there isn't any other man in the country who'd have had the common sense to do what you did—to know that it would be a sensible move."
"Some day, Eric," grinned Carroll, "I'm going to throw you down—I'm going to flunk on a case. And then you'll say to my face what you must often have thought—that I'm a lucky, old-maidish detective."
"G'wan wid ye! Fishing for compliments—that's what you are."
Carroll grew serious again. "I think we're safe in eliminating Evelyn Rogers from our calculations except as a gold mine of information. Which takes us to her friend—Hazel Gresham." ”

“ Thus far Spike Walters, driver of taxicab No. 92,381, was the only person under arrest, and only those persons too lazy to exercise their minds were willing to believe that Spike was guilty or that he knew more of the crime than he had told.
Carroll read each news story attentively. No wild theory of a pop-eyed reporter, hungry for fact, was too absurd to receive his careful attention. But they proved of little assistance. With the spot-light of publicity blazing on the crime, the investigation seemed to have become static. ”

“ Lawrence was out of the city and there wasn't anybody on the place but the servants—"
"Worse than that: the servants don't even live on the place. She spent the night here all alone—!"
"Then all I'll say is that she is a brave woman. When did Mr. Lawrence get back from Nashville?"
"Oh! not until ten o'clock the following morning. And believe me, he was all excited when he read about Roland in the papers. Poor Roland! If you were only a girl, Mr. Carroll—you'd know how terrible it is to have a man who's crazy about you and engaged to your best friend and everything—go and get himself murdered. ”

“ She sat fidgeting in her chair, trying her best to convince the detective that she was a woman grown.
"I'm Evelyn Rogers," she gushed. "I'm the sister of Naomi Lawrence—you know her, of course. She's one of the city's social leaders. Of course, she's kind of frumpy and terribly old. She must be—why, I suppose she's every bit of thirty! And that's simply awful!"
"I'm thirty-eight," smiled Carroll.
"No?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Well, you don't look it. You don't look a day over twenty-two, and I think men who are really grown up and yet look like boys are simply adorable! I do, really. ”

“ The district attorney is a pretty good friend of mine—and he's a good square fellow. Of course he will have to know the entire story; and it is a certainty that he will believe it. And when he does—you know that he will handle the case so that Mrs. Lawrence will not be connected. Irregular—yes. But you believe he can—and will—do it, don't you?"
"You bet your bottom dollar he will. He's another nut like you—so bloomin' human it hurts."
"And now—" said Carroll, "I want to chat with William Barker. There are one or two loose ends I want to clear up." ”

“ Meanwhile the city sizzled with gossip of the Warren murder. The seemingly impenetrable mystery surrounding the case, its many sensational features, the admission of the police department that the woman in the case was not Hazel Gresham, fiancée of the dead man, yet the certainty that there was a woman, and that she was of the better class—all this served to keep the tongues of men and women alike wagging at both ends.
Carroll was besieged with anonymous letters. Dozens of prominent married women were mentioned as having been, at one time or another, the object of Warren's amorous attentions. ”

“ The same logic applied there, as in Leverage's theory that Barker's arrest would be an excellent strategic move. All Carroll had to do now was to arrest Lawrence for Warren's murder—and the burden of proof would have been shifted from the shoulders of the detective to that of the suspect. It would then devolve upon Lawrence to prove an alibi that Carroll knew perfectly well he could not prove—save by merest accident.
But that was a procedure which Carroll abhorred. Those were police department methods: wholesale arrests in the hope of somewhere in the net trapping the prey. ”

“ And if I was sure that Naomi Lawrence was the woman in that taxi, I'd arrest her immediately. But I'm not sure, Leverage—and neither are you. Let's admit that it's a ten to one bet—we're still not positive. And I wonder if you realize what her arrest would mean?"
"What?"
"We can't arrest a woman of her prominence socially without a reason—and a darned good reason. Therefore, when we arrest her we have to tell the public why we're doing it. And what do we tell 'em? That she was—or might have become—Warren's light-o'-love! ”

“ I am not in favor of indiscriminate arrests. In this case, they can do nothing but harm."
"You are very good," she said softly. "I didn't imagine that a detective—"
"Some of us are human beings, Mrs. Lawrence. Is that so strange?"
She did not answer, and for several minutes they sat in silence—each intent in thought. It was Carroll who broke the stillness:
"Do you know William Barker?"
"Barker? Why, yes—certainly. He was Mr. Warren's valet."
"I know it. Have you seen Barker since the night Mr. Warren was killed?" ”

“ 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. ”

“ Gossip pays no attention to a refutation. Leave consideration for Mrs. Lawrence out of it altogether—and figure where Evelyn comes in on the backwash."
"It is tough. But this is a murder case—and, anyway, I don't think she killed Warren."
"Even if she didn't—I fancy she'd rather be convicted of murder—than of what this will lead to. I'm afraid, Leverage. We're trifling with something a good deal more sacred than human life. If Naomi Lawrence is guilty—there's no objection to her suffering. But her kid sister will suffer too—"
"You don't think, Carroll—that she looked like that kind?" ”

“ No expert in the ways of the rising generation, Carroll yet knew that no man of Warren's maturity had unleashed his affections on a girl who yet lacked several years of womanhood. The dead man had been too much of an epicure in femininity for such as that.
But Carroll knew that in that house there was another woman: Naomi Lawrence—Evelyn's sister. And while Evelyn had dismissed the sister with a few words, Carroll remembered that the girl had described her as being "not so bad looking" and had also said that Mrs. Lawrence fancied that when Warren called at the house, he was calling on her. ”

“ Carroll's steely voice excited a vast admiration in Leverage's breast. Many times before he had seen the transformation in his friend from all too human softness to almost inhuman coldness—yet he never failed of surprise at the phenomenon. "But we know you did do it."
"You don't know nothin' of the kind," Barker's voice came in a half-snarl. "I don't give a damn how smart you fly-cops are—you can't prove nothin' on me."
"That so?"
"Yes—that's so. Just because I worked for Warren ain't no reason why you should arrest me for his murder. ”

“ We women have a way of knowing when a man is in love with us. He used to be around at the house all the time. Of course, he pretended that he came around because he liked Sis and Gerald—"
"Gerald?"
"That's Mr. Lawrence. He's my brother-in-law—Sis's husband. Insufferably old-timy. Don't think of anything but business. Used to look at me through his horn-rimmed glasses and say I was entirely too young to be receiving attentions from a man as old as Mr. Warren; but he didn't know. I'm not young, really, you know. ”

“ 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. ”