BLACK CATS ARE LUCKY!

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 248, 19 October 1937, Page 19

BLACK CATS ARE LUCKY!

By FRANCIS X. DELMERE

(SHORT STORY.)

SYNOPBIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTER. Penis Wlngate, youngest recruit to the Avonshlre detective force, was very fond" of nnimnle, anil when he heard a black cat crying out in pain he opened the door of a house In search of its owner. There was no response to his call, and when he followed the cat up the stairs he found the .body of n, man, stabbed in the back. He reported to headquarters, and a siiuad was sent down to assist. The qcpne of the murder was in the foreign quarter of the city, and Wtiißate, searched the aliens register, where he found the name of Tony Angon, an American gangster, trtio was known to be heading for Avoiishire. Denis was sent round the motor garages to hunt for a man who had hired a car.

It was only after Tie liad made the tour of the principal garages that Denis had an idea. He remembered i that the genial Flannigan had told him j of a man who had a little yard and a ' shed on the western outskirts of Furriners' Row. In Flannigan'e opinion, this man was an accomplice of theives, to whom he hired out his disreputablelook in <j lnit fast motor car. So Denis made his way to this yard, hut could find no one there. He knocked up the people in an adjacent shop, and they knew nothing. It was a boy delivering newspapers who told the young detective what he wanted to know. "You want Mr. Dartryt He livee out along the East Road, at Midvale Brook Street, number eighteen. I often take messages. Thank you, boss." Denis thought that the shilling he had tipped the lad was a small reward for the information which he wanted before he returned to headquarters. The street care *ere running now, : and Denis took an east-bound one and I got out at Midvale, not far from his I own father's house, as day was breaking. I No. 18, Brook Street, wae a fine house in its own grounds, and when Denis knocked, a hard-faced man answered the door without delay. "Who do you want at this hour of the morning?" "Mr. Dartry, the building contractor." "My partner, well what can I do for you, young fellow ? Come inside." The "partner" informed Denis that Dartry had left the previous day to look over a prospective job some 20 miles out. "Exactly where!" "What's that got to do with you ?" Denis whipped out his warrant card, and the partner said something under his breath, for he had not had the slightest idea that this boyish-faced young fellow was a " 'tec." "Thanks. It's nothing important, just a routine matter. Sorry to nave worried you," said the detective and walked off "to get a tram back to Market Street where he put in his report, which was checked up at once. A motor patrol visited the village where Dartry was * supposed to be visiting, but nothing was known of him. He had not returned either to his house or his yard. No trace of Angon had been reported either, but it was early in the day. Denis went back to his lodgings very tired, and could not sleep. It must have been about two in the afternoon when he was roused by someone shaking him violently. It was the policeman on the ■ b**t, who had been told to wake him up and tell him to report to head--1 quarters at once. When he reached I Market Street he found a police car ' waiting. There were several plain 'clothes men in it, and the sergeant in 'charge told Denis to jump in. "Sorry to drag you out, Wingate. Chief's orders. We're going places. 11l tell you the news on the way." Dartry's car had been found deserted about twelve mrtes north-west of Sparrbrook, and the motor patrol had reported euspicious circumstances and had asked for a squad to search the neighbourhood. "Drops of blood on the road near the car and leading to the woody country to the left of the road." said the sergeant, and continued. "I am to take charge of the routine search, but you are to snoop about on your lonesome, being a regular detective, while we are only poor uniformed blokes temporarily disguised in plain clothes." Denie smiled. ""Don't get that way, sergeant. I am only a new hand. Not a bit wise." He knew that there was a j certain amount of jealousy between the j uniformed and detective branches of the constabulary, and did not wish to appear swollen-headed. "You'll do," said the sergeant, an old armv man. "We all wish you luck. You've done pretty well ae it is. They're telling me that you'll get the King's medal for tackling those motor burglars at Haddon Castle. If you were to collar the gent who bumped off poor old Rosei you'd be setting up a record." The sergeant then told Denis several instances of the murdered man's kindliness, especially to the down-and-out. "I wonder if this Dartry fellow has gone and got himself 'chivvied'? It looks like it," he said finally, answering his own j question. By this time the car had reached the spot on the north-west high road where Dartry's car had been found deserted. Close to it wae a petrol can. while the trail of blood that led to the woody country on the left of the road had been roped off. Two detective-sergeants were already at work on the suspect spots, while the newly-arrived police spread out like a line of skirmishers to examine the woods. Denis, trying to look wise, went to Alton, a little village a few hundred yards lip the road, and asked a few question*, but the motor patrol men had been there before him, so he returned to the search party, joining them in the woods just in time to hear one of the constables shout: "I've found him. Come here, sergeant!" At the foot of a tree was spread the body of a man face downward*; like. Rossi, thought Denis. The sergeant and*'the young detective turned the body over. "It's Dartry all right," Mid the sergeant. "He used to make a book down our way." "And he's been stabbed in the back like Rossi," added Denis very soberly. He was not casehardened, and two murders within 24 hours made him feel ill. He jumped into the waiting patrol car and sped back to the village to telephone headquarters. But there was no telephone to be found, so he drove a little further on to a wayside inn which was once famous and there got on the wire to Market Street. He had given in bis message and was returning to the car when he thought he would ask a few routine questions. He went to the old coaching yard at. the • back of the inn that nowadays harboured motor care and coaches and char-a-bancs. He noticed a powerful-looking maohine parked near the entrance and saw a y >ung black cat lying under I one of the back wheels. "Come out of that." he said, advancing and mak-

ing noises indicative of friedship. The animal rose up, arched its back and emerged from under the car to jump on the dash-board and purr as Denis tickled its neck. "Heigh, come away from that car, you," said a harsh Transatlantic voice, not the pleasant tones of the Southland or the cultured note of Boston, but the really tough kind. Denis turned to see a hard-faced woman who might once have been good-looking advancing towards him. "Xo harm intended, I was just talking to the cat," he explained, smiling. "Talking to a cat! Say, you're nuts." "Possibly," replied the young detective, taking an immediate dislike to the woman. Then something clicked in his brain. By jove, he had seen this woman's face in the "Warning list" of possible suspects from abroad. Then the manageress of the inn came hurrying out and spoke to the American woman, "Oh Miss Travere, we're just helping your patient down." This sounded interesting to Denis, who determined to stay and watch points. He slipped away to the garage and ascertained that a rich American invalid had been staying at the inn for the past three days accompanied by his nurse, "who wa« a holy terror!" She did everything for him; even drove his car. This sounded even more interesting. Possibly if Denis had not taken offence at the American woman's manner, his suspicions would not have been aroused to the pitch they were. He returned to the yard to see the patient, a neutral-faced man of indeterminate age, being supported out of the inn. He walked rapidly through the courtyard to the motor exit, on to the high road and warned the motor-pat-rol, "I want you to follow a car that's just coming out. There's something skewy about." He had already taken the number of the Americans' car and telephoned to headquarters, wondering what sort of reply he would receive. The chief himself eventually answered him. "Good work, we want that woman for questioning, anyway, and the man sounds phoney. Right, I'll send out a wireless. You were right in doing nothing on your own." The powerful car, driven by the American alleged nurse, debouched on to the highway and turned south followed at a discreet distance by the patrol-car. It was five miles on the road towards Sparrbrook, just before you reach the cross road, that two police cars stopped the Americans. Out stepped the chief himself. "Xo rough stuff, Aggie. My men are armed. Come out of that car like a perfect lady. L«ast time I «aw you was when I was constable in the Royal Canadian Mounties. You were running a crook honk-a-tonk virion I closed down. Gosh, Aggie, you are a wonder at your age. And now your interesting invalid. Ah, I thought as much. Mr. Anthony Angon, or Antonio Angoni. just as you like. Now drop that knife, Tony, j want you for murdrr. Listen carefully," and the chief' road the formal charge on the warrant and gave the usual warning. Two detectives dragged him out of bin car and into their own. "Your makeup is good," commented the chief, "hut [ remember Aggie used to be a 'chorine. , then a theatrical dresser, and was quite good with grease paint." Denis hnd witnessed the arrest from the patrol-car which lie left for a seat in the Americans' car which was driven to Market Street by a detective from the chief's squad. '■('lever work by young local detective.-' commented the chief as he told Denic to take a chair and a ciuar. He had sent for the lad that evening after Angon and Aggie had been safely stowed in cells prior to their appearance in the police court next day. Denis flushed and the chief laughed. "The Old Man. I beg pardon, the Major, our hoes, in other words, the chief constable of this county is very pleased with you. So am I. But you had 'Inspector Luck' on your side. ,, Denis agreed. The chief smiled "Glad you haven't got a swollen head especially as we're going to make you acting detective-sergeant now that Willis is retiring, and we are increasing the strength of the constabulary. It seems that Angon arrived here three or four days ago, made his way to the outskirts where Aggie, who had been prowling the neighbourhood for weeks, picked him up in their car, made him up and took him to the inn, where you first saw them. They registered there, then she drove him back late at night and he would return in Dartry's car next day as his normal self, slip up to his rooms from the bar and l»e camouflaged once again. The night garage man at the inn has given us some useful information, and we found quite a lot of loot in their baggage. Angon had no reason except impure greed to bump off poor old Rossi. The confounded gangster has plenty of money which he salted away when he was chief of staff of that mob in Toledo, Ohio. Aggie looked over the ground for him, and he played the down-and-out, arousing the old's man's pity. The rest was easy for the cowardly killer. Dartry probably wanted a share in the spoils which Angon thought he did not deserve, so he was humped off as wcTI. But we're bringing' that charge later. Aggie managed to ship into Liverpool on a Canadian passport. I believe she did marry some half-witted prospector who died of alcoholic poisoning shortly afterwards. Old Rosso kept a young fortune on those premises of his: not money alone, * but jewellery and old books and tilings". Angon was sentenced to death and Aggie drew down a very stiff sentence, narrowly missing the gallows. The judge commended the smart work of the Avonshire Constabulary, especailly that of the chief detective-inspector at Sparrbrook and the young detective Denis Wingate. who "had previously distinguished himself when a young police constable in arresting two armed burglars at Heddon Castle. "Evidently Scotland Yard hae not a monopoly of clever end courageous police detective, officers," concluded his lordship. Shortly after this, Denie went on his first leave, back to hi ß parents' house at Midvale. and wasn't the girl next door glad to see him. "I've landed a job «e black-and-white artist on the "Sparrbrook Evening Globe," she told him. ';So I've heard. I've seen quite a lot of your stuff in the weeklies, too and sort of basked in your reflected , glory." J j