The Shadow - The Sledge Hammer Crimes Part 2

Cardona considered. Carefully, he replied: "There are two possibilities, commissioner. The first, that Lemand found out something during the evening and had to be eliminated. The other is that Lemand might have furnished us some clue based upon his knowledge of the museum."

"I incline to the first."

Cardona waited for Weston to say more. The commissioner, however, made no further comment.

Cardona was about to speak again when a gruff interruption came from Prentiss Petersham.

"I disagree, commissioner," declared the lawyer. "The second possibility is more likely."

WESTON stared-half piqued, half surprised. He was not used to hearing objections. It was apparent that the commissioner wanted an explanation. Petersham gave one.

"This museum was Lemand's," declared the attorney. "I mean that literally. He had full charge of its arrangements. He saw to the installation of the protective devices: doors, time locks, gratings, burglary alarms. He had full custody of many records."

Weston arched his eyebrows.

"An unusual arrangement," admitted Petersham, "but one that is easily explained. The board of directors left such matters to the curator and the attorney."

"But you are the museum's attorney." "I did not fill that capacity at the time when the museum was completed. Old Judge Frost, recently deceased, was the original attorney for the Mayan Museum."

"And he turned the record over to Lemand?"

"They were given to Lemand shortly after judge Frost died."

"And you never examined them?"

"Only in part. All affairs were in order. I saw no necessity to delve into the past. My work concerned the present and future."

"Where are the records?"

"In that filing cabinet."

"Then they will tell us facts that we need."

"Hardly. The records are incomplete. I examined them this afternoon. Many doc.u.ments are missing."

Weston glared angrily. Petersham smiled an apology.

"I intended to mention this before," declared the lawyer. "Inspector Cardona allowed me to examine the records. He was here at the time. I made no comment to him, because I expected to meet you."

The explanation silenced Weston's objections. Cardona saw a chance to follow up his theories.

"THAT'S why the murderer came here," insisted Joe. "He wanted to look through the place. To grab off anything that might incriminate him. Along with it, he had to kill Lemand, because the curator might have told what was in the missing records."

"He intended to murder Lemand," mused Weston. "Yes, he intended it. We have a clue to that fact!" The commissioner pounded the desk. "The murderer had to leave the museum. There was only one way he could properly do it."

"By getting Lemand's keys," put in Cardona, catching the commissioner's thought.

"Exactly!" a.s.sured Weston. "Yes, the crime was premeditated. Our task is to a.n.a.lyze the actual plans for murder."

"Not difficult," observed Petersham. "Lemand frequently stayed here evenings. It was the rule, rather than the exception."

"But when did the murderer enter?"

"Some time during the day. To remain hidden in one of the museum rooms."

"Or perhaps just before closing time," inserted Cardona. "He had his opportunity right then."

Petersham looked toward Cardona and shook his head.

"The door was locked when I came here," declared the lawyer. "Rome locked it again right after my departure."

"But he unlocked it for Elvin Lettigue," remarked Cardona, "and left it unlocked while he and Lettigue were here in this office with Lemand. Then there's the chance of duplicate keys. But that time whenLettigue was here may still be important. Rome says that Lettigue -"

"Lettigue!" snapped Weston. "Where is Elvin Lettigue? You said that you would have him here, Cardona.

We require his testimony."

"I sent Markham out to Lettigue's house," explained Cardona. "It's on Long Island. Lettigue had gone out yachting an hour before Markham got there. He was expected back, and Markham said he'd bring him in here."

"ELVIN LETTIGUE," mused Petersham, in slow tone. "An odd sort, that fellow. Lemand talked about him often."

"Concerning what?" queried Weston, promptly.

"Philanthropies," replied Petersham. "Gifts that Lettigue had promised to this museum. Offers that fell through because they always had some ridiculous proviso."

"For instance?"

"Lettigue offered to provide funds for opening a new exhibit room on the second floor. But he specified that he would finance the mural decorations only."

"To what extent?"

"One hundred thousand dollars. Double the sum necessary for the murals. Some one else would have had to supply the exhibits. Lettigue flatly refused to divide the same into two portions, as Lemand suggested."

"Lettigue is eccentric?"

"That instance would indicate it. Unless the offer were no more than a gesture on Lettigue's part.

Sometimes I suspect that Lettigue is a bluffer in the field of philanthropy."

There was a knock before Weston could make further comment. A detective entered to announce that Markham had arrived with Elvin Lettigue. The two were introduced to the office. Clyde Burke had opportunity to study the man whom Petersham and Weston had discussed.

ELVIN LETTIGUE looked as he had the night before. His face was bluff and stolid. He was wearing gloves and overcoat; under his arm he was carrying the heavy-headed cane that seemed to be part of his attire. Introductions ended, Lettigue came promptly to the subject of Lemand's murder.

"Too bad about Lemand," rumbled the millionaire, his face expressionless. "Sergeant Markham informed me concerning his death. He was slain, I understand, in this very office."

Commissioner Weston nodded. "Where did his body lie?" queried Lettigue. He pointed with his cane.

"About here?"

Lettigue had indicated almost the exact spot where the body had been found. There was nothing remarkable about the fact, however, for that s.p.a.ce was the most conspicuous area in the room: "That is where we found him," explained Weston, bluntly. "He had been felled by a single blow."

"And you discovered the death instrument?"

"Here it is." Weston opened a desk drawer and produced the stone-headed hammer. He pa.s.sed it to Lettigue, who tucked his cane beneath his arm in order to receive the hammer.

"We found no finger prints," stated Weston; "therefore, the exhibit may be handled. We a.s.sume that the murderer was wearing gloves."

"I saw this instrument," nodded Lettigue. He replaced the hammer on the desk, choosing a spot as he did so. "It was lying right here when I talked with Lemand yesterday afternoon."

"What can you tell us about that conversation?" quizzed Weston. "Did Lemand express any unusual concern?"

"None at all," responded Lettigue. "He was upset because the Luben Expedition had sent its treasures to Chicago. I told him that I had been a contributor to that expedition; that I resented the decision."

"You contributed to the expedition?" queried Petersham. "To what extent, Mr. Lettigue?"

"Twenty thousand dollars, as I recall it," replied Lettigue. "Perhaps a larger sum. I do not recall the exact amount. Of course, that was but a fraction of the total amount that financed the expedition. Others had promised the major portion."

"Nothing else occurred here?" queried Weston. "Nothing other than your conversation?"

"Nothing at all," returned Lettigue. "Except that Lemand told Rome, the attendant, that he could go off duty. That was just prior to my departure."

THE pause that followed was broken by Cardona. The acting inspector turned to Markham.

"Bring in Rome," said Cardona. Then, to Petersham: "You spoke of a clicking noise that Lemand mentioned? One that you both heard several times?"

"I did," nodded Petersham. "I attached no significance to it but the sound annoyed Lemand -"

Cardona had swung to Lettigue, with the query: "Did you hear the noise?"

"The noise?" queried Lettigue. "What noise?"

"The one that I just mentioned to Mr. Petersham."

"I did not hear what you said. I am somewhat hard of hearing. Your head was turned away when you spoke."

"A clicking noise," stated Cardona, more loudly. "Somewhere about this room. Did you hear such a noise while you were here with Lemand?"

Lettigue shook his head.

"I heard no noise," he began. "Lemand said nothing to me concerning any clicks. Nothing at all. I was here but a short while. Then Rome arrived -"

Lettigue broke off. Rome had arrived again. The attendant entered the office, in custody of Markham.

Cardona sprang a sharp question, so that Lettigue could hear.

"Repeat your testimony, Rome," ordered Cardona. "Tell us: did you hear a clicking noise in this office?" "Yes," nodded Rome. "The one I spoke about previously. It bothered Mr. Lemand."

"It occurred while Mr. Lettigue was here?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Lettigue was here." Lettigue had seated himself; he was listening to Rome's testimony.

Leaning forward, elbows supported by his huge cane, the millionaire caught every word that Rome uttered. Apparently, he was eyeing the attendant's lips to note the statement, for Rome did not speak loudly.

"I heard no mention of a clicking noise," protested Lettigue, in a rumble. "Lemand may have talked about it; but I did not hear him."

"It was just before Mr. Lemand told me I could go off duty," stated Rome. He had raised his voice. "Do you remember that, sir?"

"Yes," returned Lettigue. "I recall something of the sort."

CLYDE BURKE was looking past Lettigue. The reporter spied Petersham. The lawyer's brow had furrowed; the semblance of a smile was upon Petersham's sharp lips. Then those lips tightened. Clyde a.s.sumed that Petersham had been about to say something but had changed his mind.

It was Commissioner Weston who spoke. The official brought the testimony to an abrupt finish.

"These minor points are not important," decided Weston. "What we want is definite testimony. Clicking sounds, too light to be easily heard, could have no bearing on this case. Our purpose is to trace Lewis Lemand's actions during those periods when he was last seen. That much has been accomplished."

Rising, the commissioner ended the conference. All, excepting Rome, filed from the room, preparing to go their separate ways. The attendant was to remain in police custody.

Clyde Burke was one of the last to leave the front of the museum. He strolled a short way toward the avenue; then paused to watch Markham conduct Rome to a police car. Clyde saw Petersham take a cab. He observed Lettigue entering a limousine.

Clyde turned about. Weston and Cardona were standing on the museum steps. The white wall of the building offset the dusk that obscured them. Clyde saw both men plainly; also a policeman who was near them. The bluecoat was guarding the door of the museum; he had left it open, not knowing whether or not the commissioner intended to go back into the building.

Then from the darkness beside the paved walk came a whisper that only Clyde Burke heard. It was a tone from an unseen arrival, who stood shrouded on the verge of blackness.

"Report!"

CLYDE stood rigid. It was The Shadow. He knew that weird whisper, even though he could not see its author. Seconds pa.s.sed; then Clyde thrust his hand into his inside pocket. He drew forth a sheet of paper; it contained notes that he had scribbled during the conference in the office.

Clyde extended the half-crumpled paper in a backward direction. A gloved hand plucked it from his grasp. Clyde caught a faint swish in the darkness; then, as he watched, he spied a singular phenomenon.

A blackened shape moved ghostlike between the standing men and the museum wall. It reached the darkness that fronted the bronze doors. It had faded when Cardona turned to the uniformed officer. "Lock up," ordered Joe. "I am leaving with the commissioner."

Cardona beckoned. Clyde joined him and Weston and walked toward the avenue. From behind them came a m.u.f.fled clang, as the guarding officer closed the big doors. Clyde suppressed a smile that his companions did not see.

The law's investigation had ended for the day. Yet another, unknown, had come to study the scene where crime had struck.

The Shadow had entered the Mayan Museum.

CHAPTER IV. THE THRUST THAT FAILED.

A LIGHT glowed within the curator's office of the Mayan Museum. The glare came from the desk lamp.

It showed a lone visitor who was seated there. Tall, spectral in a cloak of black, The Shadow was peeling thin gloves from his long-fingered hands.