CARDONA MAKES PLANS
LATE that afternoon, Detective Joe Cardona again conferred with Commissioner Ralph Weston and Professor Roger Biscayne, in that same office.
The detective had been busy all day, tracing the past movements of Louis Glenn. Detective Sergeant Mayhew had been left in charge at Harshaw’s.
Cardona had stopped there twice, during the day.
There was a marked warmth of friendship between Cardona and Biscayne. This was due to two causes. First, because Cardona had proven his hunches, and therefore felt superior.
The second reason was because Biscayne had accompanied Cardona during the early afternoon, and had openly expressed his admiration for the detective’s painstaking ability.
Any antagonism that might have arisen between the two men would undoubtedly have been forced by Cardona, for Biscayne was trespassing upon the detective’s field.
Hence, Cardona, by demonstrating both intuition and competence, was secretly pleased with himself, and therefore quite willing to accept Biscayne’s presence.
Now that he felt sure of himself, Cardona had slipped back to his natural tendency. He was both critical and glum. For his most active efforts had brought no tangible results.
In the commissioner’s office, Cardona frankly admitted that the break he had expected had not arrived.
“I’ve been after the Glenn case,” he told the commissioner, “because it seemed most alive. There’s my report. Plenty of facts — but not a single tracer.
“I went through Glenn’s room at the Merrimac Club, but I didn’t find a thing that was worth while.
“There was another package of cigarettes there — in the coat pocket of his business suit. Only one cigarette left in it. I had it analyzed with the other.
“No traces of poison — no traces of any dope. Those cigarettes were Glenn’s regular brand.”
“What is your next step?” questioned Weston.
“The one step,” declared Cardona, “is to get at the motive for these murders. In a way, I consider both cases as one. There’s not a trace of a motive, so far, in the death of Louis Glenn. But there is in the case of Harshaw.”
“Burglary?” suggested Biscayne.
“Right!” declared Cardona. “It’s a sure thing that the old man expected some one to come in there after something. We’ve searched the place pretty thoroughly — that is, Mayhew has.
“We found a lot of half-finished contrivances in the workshop. We’ve left them where they were.
“Probably you’d like to look at them, professor. But we haven’t located anything in the study — and that’s the place that counts.”
“What about Homer Briggs?” asked the commissioner, glancing at a report sheet on the desk.
“That’s the point I’m coming to,” stated Cardona. “With Glenn, there are lots of people who knew him. But with Harshaw, there are very few.
“We have located three who, like yourself, Professor Biscayne, knew the old man as an acquaintance only. Doctor Fredericks knew him only as a patient. Harshaw always came to his office, however. But Homer Briggs is the man we want.”
“What do you think about it, Biscayne?” asked Weston.
“Cardona is correct,” agreed the professor. “I told you of my own observations — that Harshaw seemed to mistrust Briggs. The old man was evidently anxious to guard something.
“Briggs might have stolen from him. Of course, we must also consider that Briggs is an ignorant type of man. He may have read of Harshaw’s death and become afraid—”
“We’ll learn all that,” declared Cardona, “when we have arrested Briggs. I am also considering him in the light of an accomplice — connected in some way with the actual murder.
“Briggs left while Harshaw was still alive. After that, some one mounted to the window of the study and shot the old man.
“If the killer’s purpose was merely to dispose of Harshaw, the job is ended. But I think there’s more to it than that.”
“The burglary motive?” asked Biscayne.
“YES,” announced Cardona. “Some one wanted to get something out of that place. The grating, at the window, could be easily removed. Perhaps the murderer was preparing to remove it when Harshaw surprised him.
“Now, assume that the motive was burglary. Just as surely as the man killed Harshaw, just as surely he did not enter the apartment. Therefore, he didn’t get what he was after.”
“Considering burglary as a motive,” said Biscayne, taking advantage of Cardona’s pause, “the fact that the intended burglar did not enter, shows probably that he did not contemplate murder as well as burglary.
“He had to kill Harshaw; and when he did, he wanted to get away as quickly as possible.”
“Yes,” agreed Cardona, “and he still wants whatever he didn’t get. Therefore — when he recovers his nerve — he will be back again.”
Biscayne nodded thoughtfully, and his heavy brow became furrowed. His eyes shone through his large-rimmed spectacles. He saw what Cardona was planning.
Commissioner Weston’s brain was working slowly. His face still showed perplexity when Cardona resumed his speech.
“We’re going to lay a trap for that fellow,” he said. “It will be baited tonight. I have said very little about the ladder from the room beneath, because a search of that room gave no tangible clew.
“The Redan Hotel is an easy place to enter. I have let it get about, that we are locking up Harshaw’s apartment, and that there will be no police on duty there.
“But when the place is closed up, Mayhew will be in it. He’s going to wait for that crook if he has to stay there every night for the next two weeks.
“He may have a long wait — but I don’t think it will be more than a few nights. We’re dealing with a pretty bold crook, I believe; and he’ll be back as soon as he feels he can come there safely.”
“I think so, too,” said Biscayne. “I noticed this afternoon’s papers said that nothing had been found in Harshaw’s place. That’s good bait. You aren’t going to do any more searching, are you?”
“None at all,” said Cardona. “Not until after we get the man we want. Maybe we won’t have to search — after we get through grilling him.
“Meanwhile, we’re still looking for Homer Briggs.”
Commissioner Weston glanced at Biscayne. He saw that Cardona’s scheme for tonight had captured the professor’s imagination. Weston was highly pleased.
His smile began to fade, however, when Cardona brought up the subject of the mysterious messages.
“We’ve got to get results, quick,” declared the detective. “Those letters were too cocky. Harshaw was the first, Glenn was the second. Somebody’s going to be the third. When? How soon?”
“Tomorrow night,” said Biscayne.
“Tomorrow night?” echoed Cardona.
“You’ve given me the hunch habit,” said Biscayne, with a smile. “Maybe I’m wrong. Nevertheless, there was a lapse of exactly forty-eight hours between the first death and the second — one message two days ago; the other today. Our murderer seems to be methodical.
“And, now, Cardona, since I have spoken well of your plan for tonight, I am going to point out the fallacy of your reasoning.”
Cardona’s face clouded. Weston appeared interested. Biscayne was calm as he continued.
“I conceded,” said Biscayne, “that burglary might have been the only object of the man who killed Harshaw. On that basis, the man should return.
“But if burglary was his motive, primarily, how do you explain the note telling of Harshaw’s death? Especially as that note, like Glenn’s, was probably mailed before Harshaw died?”
Biscayne’s question dumfounded Cardona. The detective was at loss for a reply. He studied the professor grimly.
“Maybe there isn’t any use, then,” growled Cardona. “Keep Mayhew out of there. Is that your idea?”
“No,” said Biscayne calmly, “he should be there, by all means.”
“Then you’re going back to my argument,” insisted Cardona.
THE detective’s tone showed that he realized his cause was weak. Biscayne had stated an evident fact.
He had shown Cardona’s tendency to become weak when theory was involved. Cardona’s remark was made in self-defense. Biscayne had a reply for it.
“I am not going back to your argument,” the professor stated. “On the contrary, I am advancing an argument of my own.
“You will find that when these problems are solved — as I feel positive they will be — that Harshaw’s death was not caused by the man who attempted burglary. We are dealing with cross-purposes.”
“You mean some one else—”
“Precisely. I think that Harshaw was killed from within his apartment. Right now, I cannot suggest how it was accomplished.
“The other man — the burglar — may have been working at the window at the time. He may have arrived later and observed Harshaw’s body. At any rate, he decided to keep away from there until later.”
Cardona glanced at Weston and observed that the commissioner was favoring Biscayne’s theory. Cardona realized that his own stand had been badly weakened. He forced a smile, and decided to make the best of it.
“Well,” he said, “we’ll take a chance on the burglar.”
“Of course,” agreed Biscayne. “Your discovery of the marks on the window ledge have proven of great value.”
Cardona accepted the compliment a trifle sullenly. Biscayne might also have mentioned the silver marks on Harshaw’s finger nails, he thought.
No one was speaking now, so Cardona used the opportunity to make a disclosure that would surely meet with commendation.
“Regarding these notes,” he said. “If there’s a third, we’ll know where it came from. I’ve had the post office working on the letters.
“We know already that they were mailed from somewhere close to the Redan Hotel. They’re on the watch now for No. 3.”
“Good!” said Biscayne.
The commissioner nodded approvingly. “I’ve got plenty of work cut out tonight,” said Cardona, rising. “But I’m going to be pretty close to the Redan Hotel, all along. There’ll be other men around there, too — laying low. If Mayhew gives the signal, there won’t be a chance for the guy to get away.”
Biscayne arose also. He accompanied Cardona as they left the commissioner’s office. The two men chatted in a friendly manner on their way to the ground floor.
When they reached the street, Biscayne hailed a cab. He paused to make a few low-voiced remarks as he shook hands with the detective.
“I’m making it my job to work with you, Cardona,” he said. “You can count on me in any way. Whatever theories I have are for your benefit. You’re the man who gets the results.”
“All right, professor,” said Cardona agreeably. “I’m going to get the murderer, no matter how big he is. I’ll get him even if he happens to be—”
“The Shadow,” interposed Biscayne, as he stepped into the cab.
Cardona stood dumfounded as the taxi whirled away.
What had Biscayne meant? Had he talked with Commissioner Weston?
Was his remark a jest? A suggestion? A challenge?
Cardona did not know; but he realized that if Biscayne had intended to make him think, he had succeeded.
For the name of The Shadow was buzzing now, through the detective’s head.
“The Shadow,” thought Cardona. “He’s come in before, when I’ve been hitting it tough. The Shadow’s on the up-and-up. He wouldn’t be mixed in with murder.
“But it’s the stuff he goes after; the smartest crooks are the ones he battles. I wouldn’t be surprised if The Shadow shows up before this is all over!”
Try as he might, Cardona could not concentrate on his problems as he wended his way uptown. One thought kept dominating his brain. He was thinking of The Shadow.
Cardona was in a strangely abstract mood when he arrived at the Redan Hotel to give instructions to Mayhew.