Death Points A Finger Part 16

The ringing of the telephone interrupted him; Jimmy saw the majority of the old men wince as at a blow. He had a vivid recollection of the hourly ringing of the telephone on the fatal morning of July fourth, it seemed so long ago, and the deadly messages the telephone brought.

The grizzled negro came to the door.

"Lentone police calling, Jedge."

There was an unwonted gleam of excitement in the eyes of the venerable jurist as he returned to the waiting men.

"Lentone police say they have the man who murdered Miller. They want you to come down there, Professor. A man by the name of Grasher--"

"Brasher," corrected Jimmy.

"Yes, Brasher, he was on the wire. He seemed quite elated and he wants you to come right down there, Professor."

William Flynn who was about to go when the telephone bell rang, paused when he heard the news. He shrugged his shoulders. Jimmy who had been watching him saw the look of furtive defiance and bravado lift from him. He said:

"That doesn't make any difference in my plans. I'll have to go anyway. I'd like to wait and see this out. I feel better just the same though, if they've got the killer."

McCall addressed him: "Come down to the Lentone police station with us, Mr. Flynn. We'll arrange for protection for you."

Chief of Police Ca.s.sidy, of the Lentone Police, consented readily to the request made by McCall. Then the three men were led into the chief's office. Brasher explained briefly:

"Professor, this bird we got has as many aliases as I got hairs in my head and he's got a criminal record as long as my arm. He's known to the police from here to the Mississippi. The last job he did was in New York, up above Yonkers, where he got into a house like he got into Miller's Folly, chimney, rope, climbing irons and everything. He beat the rap on a technical kink.

"About three hours ago, he was caught over near the New Hamps.h.i.+re line driving a stolen car. We got his record all right. We was waitin' till you came. Want to ask him some questions?"

"No, but I should like to be here when you examine him, if you don't mind?"

Chicago Boyle' alias 'Lefty' Harris, alias to many names to mention, was brought in. Boyle was a well dressed man in the middle thirties. He was strongly and compactly built. He scrutinized carefully each of the men who faced him. He jauntily asked for a cigarette, which Brasher supplied him. He did not take his eyes from Professor Brierly while he was lighting the white tube.

After blowing a series of small smoke rings, he asked:

"You're Professor Brierly, aren't you?" His voice was soft and quietly modulated. His diction was that of a fairly well educated man.

Professor Brierly nodded curtly. Brasher pointed to a chair and said:

"To save time, Boyle, I suppose you'll admit that you're 'Chicago'

Boyle, alias 'Lefty' Harris, alias--"

Boyle nodded indifferently.

"Oh, yes, I'm Boyle all right, what of it? I was going about my business, when a hick cop picked me up because he thought my car was stolen. Then I'm transported half way across the state and brought here. What's it all about?"

"We want to ask you some questions, Boyle."

"You can ask as many d.a.m.n questions as you please. I won't answer 'em. I know my rights. I asked to see a lawyer and you've kept me--"

"Oh, you'll get your lawyer, all right but first--"

"No, first I'll see my lawyer."

Brasher stepped to the doorway and beckoned. A middle-aged man, with blond hair and gimlet like black eyes stepped in. He nodded curtly to the others and said to Boyle:

"What is it?"

"I'm kept here without the shadow of a legal excuse. I don't know what I was arrested for. I've seen no warrant. I haven't been charged."

Counselor-at-law Forman whirled on the chief of police.

"Is this true?" Without waiting for an answer he said heatedly:

"I demand to know what he's charged with. I demand that he be brought before a judge and admitted to bail. I'll have a _habeus corpus_--"

Brasher said softly.

"It's true we didn't charge him. We want to ask him some questions. If he insists on his rights, we'll charge him all right but if we do there won't be no bail. There's no bail for what we're gonna charge him with."

Boyle and Forman stared at the speaker. The lawyer finally asked:

"What are you talking about, no bail. Only in murder cases can a prisoner be denied bail."

"That's what I'm talkin' about, Mr. Forman. You're a smart lawyer all right. Murder is what we're gonna charge him with if he and you insist."

Jimmy had been watching Boyle. After the first momentary surprise, a gleam of sardonic amus.e.m.e.nt appeared in his eyes. He seemed not at all concerned with the gravity of the charge. But this lasted only a short time. He turned grave, but Jimmy was quite certain he was not frightened. He said:

"Wait a minute, Mr. Forman. This flatfoot hasn't got a thing on me. It may be better to answer questions and--"

"No!" burst out Forman. "Don't answer any questions. They'll--"

Of the two the prisoner seemed far the cooler. He shook his head gently.

"Naw, they won't do a thing; they haven't got anything to do it with. Let 'em ask."

The lawyer glared at him. He spat out:

"Better get another lawyer, since you know so much." He turned abruptly and walked out.

Boyle turned a smiling face to the other men in the room.

"These mouthpieces have their little ways, haven't they? One would think HE was being accused of murder. Go on and ask what you like.

I'll answer your questions because I haven't got anything to hide."

"That's swell," said Brasher with thinly disguised sarcasm.

"'Member the job of yours near Yonkers, where you got in with a rope hooked around a chimney and climbin' irons. 'Member that, Boyle?"

"Sure, I remember it. But that was a frame up. The police had to have a goat and I was it. But they didn't get away with it. Some judges are honest and this one didn't let them frame me."

"Yeah, that's right. Well, Boyle, mebbe you heard about this Morris Miller who was murdered right outside of town here early in the morning of July 4th. Heard of that did you?"

There was a tightening of the prisoner's jaw muscles. His brows were drawn together. His hand holding the cigarette stopped midway. He was looking fixedly at the detective. He nodded.