THE LAUGHING GIRL MYSTERY

Matamata Record, Volume XIX, Issue 1735, 1 June 1936, Page 3

THE LAUGHING GIRL MYSTERY

By VIOLA PARADISE.

Instead of answering Alby, Wilcox turned to Sheridan. “Dinard, didn’t I hear you say ‘l’ll go along to the station with you’ yesterday when Dr. Coe was leaving here?" “Yes.” Wilcox whistled. “Well, he didn't go to Stamford. Or, if he did, he came back. Because I saw him yesterday afternoon.” “When and where?” demanded Alby. “I can tell you exactly when and where. It was at, the corner of Twelfth and Fifth Avenue. Just a minute before T saw you,” he turned to Sheridan, “and Miss Sayre in the taxi. In fact, just as I hopped in with you." “But you didn’t mention it to Mr Dinard at the time?" “No.” “You didn’t think ,it strange?” “Dr. Coe doesn’t'take me into his confidence,” Wilcox replied-, stiffly. “It’s nothing to me what he does with his Saturday afternoons." Alby looked at his watch. “We’ll resume this interesting conversation later. Meanwhile, let Mr Jenker here take your fingerprints.” Wilcox exclaimed, “Fingerprints 1 You don’t suspeot me—” “The whole museum staff, except Marlin," Sheridan explained, “seems to have been a few inches, or feet, or yards from the crime at the moment It wks being committed." With a shrug, Wilcox let Jenker Ink his hands, “And please be at my office this afternoon—" Alby began. “Sorry, but I’ve another engagement." “That’s Just too bad," said Higgins. But Alby merely repeated, "At my office, at two-thirty." . i . Sheridan and Alby started down to the door. Just before they reached the bottom step Alby said “Stop," and motioned a policeman who was stand- 1 ing near it to step back. > There was the sound of a key in the outer door. It opened, and Dr. Coe stepped in—Dr. Coe, hatless, hlB white hair unkempt, his eyes bloodshot and haggard. He did not raise his eyes to where Sheridan and Alby were standing. But he did see the policeman. “What are you doing in my house?’ he demanded in a shaking voice. “There’s been a murder,” said the policeman, , ..... .... . . . . ~ v ■ “Murder!. . . .•." Dr. Coe deemed.^ ' be; focussing h}s mind with difflctiityj “Mur—not Miarlin!’’ he exclaimed, and felMn a crumpled heap on the floor. . -An hour later; when they, left .to-? .getber to seek Marlin. Sheridan’e feelings towards' Alby;'were mixed. • Hc‘ had been pleased to find Alby a human, rather gentle person, not In the least like the district, attorneys or defectives of fiction. When Dr .Coe collapsed exhausted on the floor, Sheridan remembered third degree stories of men kept awake for days to wring forth a confession. Higgins was apparently ready for some such procedure. But Alby asked no questions. He helped to get Dr. Coe up to his room, had a man telephone for a physician connected with his department, and waited for anything Dr .Coe might say when he came to. Dr. Coe asked one question: “Who killed Marlin?" and at the news that Marlin -wasn’t the victim, he sighed with relief and closed his eyes, murmuring, “Leave me alone now." B?j1 when Sheridan said, “Hadn’t I bettef telephone Mrs Coe?" he sat up suddenly. “Not on any account 1" And then, more feebly, “I’m all right." Mr Alby’s doctor arrived shortly and confirmed this statement. “Ordinary exhaustion," he said. "Otherwise O.K:" “Well enough to give testimony ai —say—four this afternoon?" Albj queried. “Sure.” “Testimony?" Dr .Coe asked wearily. “What has all this to do wit! me?" Alby left the explanation to Sheridan. He knew that Alby was listening nol only to his story but to the very words he chose, to his every intonation, anc i even, as It were, to the Items h< omitted. He knew, too, that Alb: missed no flicker of expression tha passed over Dr. Coe’s face. When Sheridan finished, Alby merely said quietly, . “We’ll telephone wher we need you this afternoon. I’! question the other witnesses first Meanwhile I am leaving some mei here." As Sheridan pulled on his owr j glove, Alby asked, “Where did you ge that scratch on your hand?” Sheridan started, and then laughec shortly. "Not from the Florentlm dagger,” he said. “It’s odd," he continued, “how guilty an innocent mai can feel when a district attorney oski him a sudden question. We suddenly see a possible misinterpretation o some slight detail, like this scratch Which, to answer your question, I goi on a loose prong in a ring which Mls> ( Sayre wore the night before last, should think," Sheridan continued “that this incorrect reaction of guilt % this very feel of guilt, in almost ai.„

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innocent person who knows he’s being watched and studied, would lead you detectives astray.” ‘‘lt docs —sometimes,” Alby replied “No! often.” They were silent the rest of the short distance to Marlin’s address — an old-fashioned brick apartment house in a shabby block between Second and Third Avenues. " Marlin’s name was not in the hall. They rang the superintendent’s bell. “You mean that Englishman? He moved out long ago. ’Round Thanksgiving. No, I don’t know where. Mrs Brown, though, or her daughter, might know. He roomed in their flat.” Mrs Brown lived on the first floor, front. She showed them Into what she called the parlour bedroom, which contained a brass bed, a piano, some plush chairs, and countless knickknacks, photographs, and d’oyleys. ('to be Continued). “You.’ll have to excuse this parlour being a bedroom,” she said. “We used to have tlie whole floor when Mr Marlin lived here, but these hard times a person’s got to do what they can, especially with my daughter out ,of work, and— —” ; “No,” she said, when questioned, “I don’t know where Mr Marlin moved to, and I can’t say as I care. If I knew, my daughter, Susie, wouldn’t let , me have no peace. Though what she jj could see in an old man like Mr Marlin ] —not that he was really old, but forty j i if he was a day ... But for a girl nineteen—and for him to invite her to < Coney Island, and get their picture taken together, well, it keeps the young men away. Right now, thank i goodness, she’s going steady with a nice’-young fella; I always told her i ‘Mr Marlin Isn’t; a marrying man’.” ,CHAPTER 9. ! “Did- Marlin take her out often?” \ Alby asked. ; < ( “Not as often as she’d of liked.” ( said Mrs Brown. “He was always saying he had to spend his week-ends at the museum, and maybe he did, but be careful what you believe that any man says, I told her. But she wouldn’t hear a word against him. My land, when he had their pictures took together at Coney Island, well, Susie she thought he must be gone on her. And then he moved and not a word out of him.” “Smell him?” Alby prompted. . ( “Now, whatever made me say that! Of course; ho;did ; hkve 8 : smelt to him, ; Not teal‘ bad; - bjut ; 'jßbr't of; only not quite. • Not that he wasn’t a clean man. Tidy as a cat. But he did smell. .Why, 1 told Susie for ,a w.eek after.he left that,l could,smell him “Why did he leave?” *' Vi ; '- “Just.lost his temper, sudden, and no need, either. He forgot to pay hl« rent two weeks running, and I reminded him. Now wouldn’t anybody-? H<a never answered, a word, but iext morning there, on his pillow, was the money, and a note.” “Have you the note?” “No, I haven’t. But it said nobody ever accused him of wanting to get out of paying his rent before. Susie kept after me till I wrote him a letter to the Metropolitan Museum apologising, but it came back, marked unknown at this address. „ - . “Where is Susie?” “She’ll be back any minute now. She goes to see her grandma Sunday mornings.” “I’ll see her later. Meanwhile, I’ll borrow this photograph,” said Alby. “Well, my land, I don’t know what Susie’ll say. Gracious, Mr Marlin ain’t wanted for something, is he?” “Did he seem the sort of, man who would be wanted?” “But he was honest as daylight,” she added. “I never thought he meant to do me out of the rent. Why, like I wrote him in my letter, that came back, I’d no more accuse him of cheating than of murder.” ’ She stopped short. “My land,” she narrowed her eyes at Sheridan. “Your pitcher was in the paper this morning, about that murder of the girl that died laughing! And you ” “From the District Attorney’s of- ! flce,’ u Alby told her. . “Just when was this picture taken?” ’ “Two weeks to the day before he ’ left. I remember on account of 1 when she bought the new hat. But a ( murder! And Mr Marlin being asked fori Just wait till I tell Susie.” ! Susie entered at that moment, young and slim, and smart despite the oheap- ' ness of her clothes. “Susie! Mr Marlin’s been connected ( with a murder!” her mother exclaiml, ed . “And these gentlemen ” “With a murder!” Susie’s thin eyo- . brows went up. “I don’t believe it.” , “The one in this morning’s paper. The girl who died laughing.” ( “He never did it!” Susie cried pasr sionately. “I don’t believe he did it!” r “There you go, jumping to conclur sions, like always,’’ said her mother.’ “I never said he done it. I said he ! was connected with it. These gen- ' tlemen come to borrow his picture ’ They’re from the police. At least, that one is.” ’ “The other one isn’t. I know who ’ he is,” said Susie. “He works at Mr

:tyfariin ? s museum, one of the two Mr Marlin said butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.” "Are you sure he said that?" Sheri- ; dan demanded. Susie nodded. ‘\What else did he say?” Alby demanded. “Nothing. Except that peopl.e in j museums in England were different.” “But I tol<f you d hundred times,” sfiid her mother, "that Mr Marlin never worked at the museum. The letter came back. You saw it with your own eyes.” (To be Continued). “I don’t remember,” said Susie sullenly. “Maybe I just thought it was the Meterpolltan.” “And it didn’t seem strange to you that he hadn’t told you which museum he worked at?” “He was English. English people are different. Not —not familiar, like Americans.” “Close-mouthed, you mean,” said her mother. “Though really, except for that about the museum, he wasn’t Liked ;to talk,' when he 'was'' in' ths; ; mood * v My_ I&nd P ’ 'Her Voted dhah’geu. ’’My roastl Excuse hie," she continued, dashihg to the. door. : ;>? .-. • The moment she had.gorie, Alby turned iSpcrh Susie. . “You' were’ ’ in'i lbve.,:with ; hlm~’ f '' ‘ :: ‘ ' ‘ ‘ : l “No!” But as Alby made no answer, | just waited, she added,..“l’m engaged to marry, somebody else. -At least when times get better —. “And you were never engaged to Marlin?” / • “No —he oouldn’t ask me. He —he had a wife in England.” “But he took you places, and made love to you—” “He was a perfect gentleman. Ho told me from the beginning he couldn’t marry me —not as long as his wife was alive. She’s been in an insane asylum for eight years in London. He can’t get a divorce." “And so?” Alby prompted. “So nothing,” she retorted. “He said he mustn’t stand in my way. So, unless I could feel he was like a father to me, we wouldn’t go out together any more. So I said all right, and after that he never once ” “Never once what?” “He never once made love to me. Never once even kissed me . He may Just of been a earetaker, but he was a perfect gentleman, I tell you 1” “Was’, the picture, taken before or after he told you about his wife?” “He told me about his wife being in the Insane asylum the third time he took me out, two years ago. But he told me how you couldn’t get a divorce for insanity the same day we had the pioture taken.” Mrs Brown breezed back into the room and began talking almost before , she entered the doorway. “Was he a hot-tempered man?” ! Alby interrupted:

“My land, not That's why I never could understand r him going off in a huff when I reminded him about the rent." “That," said Susie angrily, "is why. I know tobther must have said something insulting to him.” “Susie Brown, I never! I’ve told you a dozen times exactly what I said. And he never answered a word. And the next morning there was the note on his pillow—" ‘“lt must have been the way you said it then,’’ Susie Insisted. "He was very—very honourable. And he’d naturally be , insulted ,if anybody thought he was trying tp cheat them out of the, rent.": ' s “But 1 tell you I was as polite as milk. I just said, ’Mr Marlin,? I said, ‘I think something’s slipped your mind. I know you’d remember It in a day or two, but my own rent’s due this week ’ " “Well, thank you very much," Alby said. “I’ll return the picture in a few days.” “You ain’t going to put Susie's pic - ture Invthe papers r.’ MrA Browiv exp: claimed. } “No;” Alby got to leave. ■ - : "And' tell him I never meant- to ih:cincerate that he was trying: to get out of paying the if ypu flnd him..” i ' i "“ , VVhen-. you-flnd hinTf.l’ Susie iasistcd: l and looked darkly from Alby to. Sheri - I dan, as they departed. > . At the corner drug store Alby went into a telephone booth. . Sheridan took advantage of this first moment of leisure to slip into another and to call j Adelaide. ' “Sherry, darling!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to get you at your house and the museum—l’ve been fd worried ” “I’ll colleot you for lunch: In a little while. I’m with Mr Alby. He’s coming down to have another look at the Coggs’ apartment. It won’t b* long ” “Just a minute, Sherry. Someone’s at the door.” Sheridan held the wire. It was rather a long minute. At last shf returned to the telephone. “Pleas* hurry, Sherry.” ' “Dear! Is something wrong? Whal is it?” “No, nothing. That is—it r s only that-they’ve been asking me questions ” “Who?" “Some more police inspectors. And they’ve searched the house." “The brutes. But don’t worry, dear. It’s just a routine they’ve got to go through. If you were a police--1 man, wouldn’t you do the same? They weren’t unpleasant about it, were they?” “No—but ’’ “But what, darling? I can tell that you’re worried." “Sherry, they found something!” (To be Continued).