The.... “KENNEL MURDER CASE”

Hawera Star, Volume LIV, 24 August 1935, Page 2

The.... “KENNEL MURDER CASE”

By S. S. VAN DINE

Synopsis of preceding chapters: Philo Vance, expert' in solving crimes, . finds himself confronted with an apparently hopeless tangle in the case of Archer Coe, collector of Chinese ceramics. Coe lives with his brother, Brisbane Coe, his niece and ward, Miss Hilda Lake, a Chinese cook and a butler. Coe is "found* dead in his bedroom. Tho door is bolted on the inside, and the windows tightly fastened. He is in a dressing gown, but wears street shoes. There is a revolver in his hand and a bullet wound in his temple, but it is determined that a stab in the back, which has bled internally, is the cause of > his death. Brisbane Coe is found in a ' downstairs closet, stabbed to death. A Scotch terrier, badly wounded, in found in- the house, though neither of the Coes liked dogs. Brisbane Coe was supposed to have started for Chicago on the night of the murder. In his pockets Vance finds some strands of waxed thread, a bent pin and a darning needle. Eaymond Wrede, a neighbour, is questioned. So is Signor Grassi, representative of an Italian museum, who has been Archer Coe’s house guest. Miss Lake is unaffected by her guardian’s death. She is engaged to Wrede, in opposition to Archer Coe’s wishes. Vance finds fragments of a Chinese vase with blood on them; also there are traces of blood in another'vase. The poker is found, with which both Archer Coe and the Scottie were struck. On learning that Brisbane Coe was a student of criminology, Vance examines his library. He finds two books, recently Tead, relating to crimes involving the bolting of doors from the outside. By manipulating the string, the bent pin and the darning needle found in Brisbane’s pocket, he bolts Archer Coe’s door from the outside. Vance finds that Wrede once, had a dog, a Doberman Uinscher, which he gave away. Vance leaves' to find the man who now owns the dog. ' - CHAPTER XXIII. Markham sat for several minutes in a brown study. . “As you say, Vance,” he remarked, “the technique of ithe bolting of the door from the hall explains one phase of the problem, but I can’t see that we’re any further along toward a solution of the double murder. Brisbane, after all, was a victim. Why should he have been interested in bolting Archer in this room?” “Really, I couldn’t say.” Vance appeared as puzzled as Markham. At this moment Burke called to.the sergeant from the lower hall. One of the detectives that had been sent out earlier that afternoon to check Miss Lake’s and Grassi’s alibis had returned to report.

"I interviewed Doctor Montrose at the Metropolitan. He okays Grassi’s story. But what I want to know is where he was between eight and eleven. And there’s no way of finding out unless we get a freak break.” “He was shuttling to and l fro over our complicated transportation system —according to his tale,” smiled Vance. “I say, did Doctor Montrose give you any titbits of gossip regarding Grassi’s call?”

“Nothing, sir. Except that the ; Italian was called up on the ’phone during dinner.” When the detective had gone Vance went to the (telephone and called Doctor Montrose at his home. jjAfter a few minutes’ conversation he hung up the receiver and paced up and down. “That ’phone call to Grassi,” he murmured, “very strange. Doctor Montrose says it upset Grassi terribly. Hardly finished his dinner, and seemed in a hurry to get away. Sergeant, suppose you fetch the signor.” Heath went from the room.

The Italian was ushered in by the sergeant, and Vance went straight to the point. “Who (telephoned to you, Mr Grassi, at Doctor Montrose’s yesterday during dinner?”

Grassi gave a slight start; then looked defiantly at Vance “It was a personal matter —my own affair.”

“It was Mr Archer Coe who ’phoned you, was it not, Mr Grassi?” came Vance’s flat and.' unemotional voice.

Grassi neither moved nor spoke. “Perhaps he regretted the bargain he had made with you for the sale of so many of his beloved pieces,” Vance continued. “Perhaps he decided to call the deal off, after thinking it over alone with his treasures.” Still Grassi did not move.

“I can well imagine how you felt, Mr Grassi,” Vance went no, without alteration of tone. “After all, the bargain had been made and you held Mr Coe’s letter of confirmation. But really, y’ know, you shouldn’t have threatened lilm ”

Suddenly the Italian’s pent-up emotion broke forth.

“I had every right to threaten him!” he burst forth, the blood Tushing back to liis face. “For a week I have been negotiating—meeting his constantly increasing prices. Finally, yesterday, we reach an understanding. He puts it in writing, and I cable to Italy announcing my success. Then he rejects the agreement; ‘he tells me he will not sell —that he has changed his mind. He insults me over the telephone; he says I. have swindled him. He said he, would break every vase he owned be-j fore he would let .me have them.” ) Vance gave a mirthless smile. “No wonder you were a bit discon-

certed at the sight of those Ting yao fragments! But Mr Coe didn’t smash the vase, Mr Grassi. That desecration was achieved, inadvertently, by the person who killed him. Most unfortunate, what?” Vance got to his feet. “That will be all for the present,” lie said.

Grassi made a low bow, and left the room.

Markham, who had been following the interview intently, addressed Vance as soon as Grassi was out of hearing. “A curious situation. Grassi is refused' the collection, on which he has obviously set his heart and staked his honour; and he threatens Coe. Thenlie disappears for three hours, saying he took the wrong train; and this morning Coe is found dead, with all the superficial, indications of suicide.” “But why should he also stab Brisbane?” Vance asked dispiritedly. “And 1 why the revolver? And why the bolted door? And. especially why the Scottie?”

“You were counting a great deal on the dog this morning,” Markham observed.

“Yes, yes—the dog.” Vance lapsed into silence for a while, his eyes gazing out of the east window into the gathering dusk of the October twilight. “And no one here liked dogs—no one but Wrede. Funny he should give his

jiot away. .. .” Vance’s voice wasscarcely audible; it was as though he was thinking out loud. “A Doberman Pinscher —too big, of-course, to keep in a- small apartment. And I wouldn’t take Wrede for a dog lover. Too unsympathetic. I think I’ll have converse with him. . . .

He stepped to the telephone. A moment later he was talking with Wrede. The conversation was very brief, but during it Vance jotted down some notes on the ’phone pad. Markham strove to conceal his irritation. •

“Well, .what, did you learn about Wrode’s dog?”

“Nothing staggerin’. He had the Doberman only a few months—bought him at a show in Westchester. Then when he moved from his house in Greenwich Village to his present apartment he gave the dog to some friends of his.” He pointed to the ’phone pad. “I have their name —they live on Central Park West, in the eighties. I think I’ll drop by and see them. Y’ know, Markham, I’m dashed interested in Doberman Pinschers. They’re beautiful dogs. And they were the original police dogs in Germany.”

It was decided to discontinue the investigation for the day. Vance suggested a complete cessation until he could make an inquiry into the ownership of the wounded iScottie. A short conference in- the drawing room settled the matter. Gamble was told to proceed with his duties, as usual; -and Miss Lake and Grassi were informed that they were free to go and come as they chose, provided they were available for questioning.

“Iveep a man in Coe’s bedroom, however,” Vance admonished the sergeant; “and it would also be well to have a man outside to check bn anyone entering or leaving the house.” As we approached the front door Guilfoyle, the detective* from the Homicide Bureau whom the sergeant had sent to check Hilda Lake’s alibi, came in and reported. But he had unearthed nothing helpful. Vance, Markham and I went out into the chill air. When we were entering the District Attorney’s car, Markham asked: “Were you serious, Vance, about seeing those people to whom Wrede gave the Doberman Pinscher?” “Oh, quite. ... It will take only a few minutes.”

The name of the people was Enright; and they lived in a penthouse on Central Park West. The butler informed us that Mrs Enright "was out of the city, and that Mr Enright was at that moment walking the dog in the park. Few people were in the park at this hour and the figures about the reservoir were not many. We sat down on a bench by the path entrance and waited. Presently there appeared a very large man with a dog on a leash. “That will be Enright,” said,Vance. Enright proved to be a genial, easygoing type of man of greatb ulk. Vance introduced himself and presented Markham and me. Enright was cordial and talkative; and when Vance mentioned Wrede’s name he became voluble regarding his long friendship with the man. As 'he chatted I had a good look at the dog. I was not familiar with the breed, but I was nevertheless struck with his qualities. He was lean and muscular, with beautiful lines, his coat a shiny black with Tust-red, sharply defined markings. The dominating impression he gave was that of compact, muscular power, combined 1 with great speed and intelligence—-a dog that would make a loyal and protective friend and a dangerous enemy. ‘ ‘ Oh, yes,” Enright said, in answer to a question from Vance. ‘‘Wrede gave me and the missus Ruprecht last spring. Said he couldn’t keep him in a small apartment. We’ve got a penthouse—plenty of roof for the fellow to run around. But I always take him out, at night and give ’im a to-and-fro in the park.”

Vance went toward the Doberman and bent over. But the dog would not respond. He shrank back, gave a frightened whine, and crouched down on his haunches, trembling. “That don’t mean he don’t like you, Mr Vance,” Enright explained, patting the dog on the head. “He’s shy as, the devil. Distrustful of strangers. Gad! You should have seen him' when

I first got him. Had to drag him out twice a day and put him on the roof. But Rupreeht is lots better now than he used to be. Getting a little confidence. He’s pretty near all right when he’s alone with me.” “He’ll probably get over it,” Vance told him encouragingly. “The right treatment, don’t y’ know. . . . He’s a beautiful specimen, around seventy pounds, I’d say. Ever show him?” “Oh, I entered him once—Cornwall. But he wouldn’t show. Lay down in the ring and whimpered. Shame, too, for the (two fellows that went over him lacked quality.” (To be continued.)