The 1st Deadly Sin

Delaney nodded, marveling at the gusto with which this impish man ticked off these points on his fingers, an enthusiasm made all the more incredible by his age, diminutive physique, elegant appearance.

“All right,” Langley went on, “let’s assume a swinging weapon. One-hand or two-hand?”

“I’d guess one-hand. I think the killer approached Lombard from the front. Then, as he passed, he turned and struck him down. During the approach the weapon could have been concealed beneath a coat on the killer’s arm or in a newspaper folded under his arm.”

“Yes, that certainly rules out a halberd! You’re talking about something about the size of a hatchet?”

“About that.”

“Captain, do you believe it was an antique weapon?”

“I doubt that very much. Once again, the percentages are against it. In my lifetime I’ve investigated only two homicides in which antique weapons were used. One was the crossbow case in which you were involved. The other was a death caused by a ball fired from an antique duelling pistol.”

“Then we’ll assume a modern weapon?”

“Yes.”

“Or a modern tool. You must realize that many modern tools have evolved from antique weapons. The reverse is also true, of course. During hand-to-hand combat in Korea and Vietnam, there were several cases of American soldiers using their Entrenching tool, shovel, or Entrenching tool, pickmattock, as a weapon both for offense and defense. Now let’s get to the wound itself. Was it a crushing, cutting, or piercing blow?”

“Piercing. It was a penetration, about three to four inches long.”

“Oh my, that is interesting! And what was the shape of the penetration?”

“Here I’m going to get a little vague,” Delaney warned. “The official autopsy of the examining surgeon states that the outside wound was roughly circular in shape, about one inch in diameter. The penetration dwindled rapidly to a sharp point, the entire penetration being round and, as I said, about three or four inches deep.”

“Round?” Langley cried, and the Captain was surprised at the little man’s expression.

“Yes, round,” he repeated. “Why-is anything wrong?”

“Is the surgeon certain of this? The roundness, I mean?”

“No, he is not. But the wound was of such a nature that precise measurements and analysis were impossible. The surgeon had a feeling-just a guess on his part-that the spike that penetrated was triangular or square, and that the weapon became stuck in the wound, or the victim in falling forward, wrenched the weapon out of the killer’s hand, and that the killer then had to twist the weapon back and forth to free it. And this twisting motion, with a square or triangular spike, would result in-”

“Ah-ha!” Langley shouted, slapping his thigh. “That’s exactly what happened! And the surgeon believes the spike could have been triangular or square?”

“Believes it could have been-yes.”

“Was” Langley said definitely. “It was. Believe me, Captain. Do you know how many weapons there are with tapering round spikes that could cause the kind of wound you describe? I could name them on the fingers of one hand. You will find round spikes on the warclubs of certain Northwest Coast Indian tribes. There is a Tlingit warclub with a jade head that tapers to a point. It is not perfectly round, however. Thompson Indians used a warclub with a head of wood that was round and tapered: a perfect cone. The Tsimshian Indians used horn and bone, again round and tapered. Eskimo tribes used clubs with spikes of bone or narwhale or walrus tusks. Do you understand the significance of what I am saying, Captain?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“The materials used in weapons that had a cone spike were almost always natural materials that tapered naturally-such as teeth or tusks-or were soft materials, such as wood, that could be tapered to a cone shape easily. But now let’s move on to iron and steel. Early metal weapons were made by armorers and blacksmiths working with a hammer on a hot slug held on an anvil. It was infinitely easier and faster to fashion a flat spike, a triangular spike, or a square spike, than a perfect cone that tapered to a sharp point. I can’t recall a single halberd, partison or couteaux de breche in the Metropolitan that has a round spike. Or any war hammer or war hatchet. I seem to remember a mace in the Rotterdam museum that had a round spike, but I’d have to look it up. In any event, early weapons almost invariably were fashioned with flat sides, usually triangular or square, or even hexagonal. A perfectly proportioned round spike was simply too difficult to make. And even after dies and stamping of iron and steel came into existence, the same held true. It is cheaper, faster, and easier to make blades and spikes with flat sides than round ones that taper to a point. I think your surgeon’s ‘guesses’ are correct. Using your famous ‘percentages.’”

“Interesting,” Delaney nodded, “and exactly what I came to you for. But there’s another thing I should tell you. I don’t know what it means, if anything, but perhaps you will. The surgeon has a feeling that the sharp tip of the penetration was lower than the opening wound. You understand? It was not a straight, tapered penetration, but it curved gently downward. Maybe I should make a little drawing.”

“Oh gosh,” Langley chortled, “that’s not necessary. I know exactly what you mean.” He leaped to his feet, rushed to a bookcase, ran his fingers over the bindings, grabbed out a big book, and hustled it back to the table. He turned to the List of Illustrations, ran his finger down, found what he was looking for, and flipped pages. “There,” he said. “Take a look at that, Captain.”

Delaney stared. It was a one-handed club. The head had a hatchet blade on one side, a spike on the other. The spike was about an inch across at the head, tapered to a sharp point and, as it tapered, curved downward.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Iroquois tomahawk. Handle of ash. Those are feathers tied to the butt. The head is iron, probably cut out of a sheet of hot metal with shears or hammered out with a chisel and then filed sharp. White traders carried them and sold them for pelts.”

“Are you suggesting…?”

“Heavens, no. But note how that flat spike curves downward? I could show you that same curve in warclubs and war-axes and halberds of practically every nation, tribe, and race on earth. Very effective; very efficient. When you hack down on a man, you don’t want to hit his skull with a horizontal spike that might glance off. You want a spike that curves downward, pierces, penetrates, and kills.”

“Yes,” Delaney said. “I suppose you do.”

The two men sat in silence a few moments, staring at the color photo of the Iroquois tomahawk. How many had that killed, Delaney wondered, and then, leafing slowly through the book, was suddenly saddened by the effort, art, and genius that the human race had expended on killing tools, on powder and shot, sword and stiletto, bayonet and bludgeons, crossbow and Centurion tank, blowpipe and cannon, spear and hydrogen bomb. There was, he supposed, no end to it.

But what was the need, or lust, behind all this interest, ingenuity, and vitality in the design and manufacture of killing tools? The lad with his slingshot and the man with his gun: both showing a dark atavism. Was killing then a passion, from the primeval slime, as valid an expression of the human soul as love and sacrifice?

Suddenly depressed, Delaney rose to his feet and tried to smile at his host.

“Mr. Langley,” he said brightly, “I thank you for a pleasant evening, a wonderful dinner, and for your kind cooperation. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Christopher Langley seemed as depressed as his guest. He looked up listlessly.

“I haven’t helped, Captain, and you know it. You’re no closer to identifying the weapon that killed Frank Lombard than you were three hours ago.”

“You have helped, sir,” Delaney insisted. “You’ve substantiated the surgeon’s impressions. You’ve given me a clearer idea of what to look for. In a case like this, every little bit helps.”

“Captain…”

“Yes, Mr. Langley?”

“In this ‘private investigation’ of yours, the weapon isn’t the only thing. I know that. You’re going to interview people and check into past records and things like that. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes.”

“Well, gosh, then you can only spend so much time trying to identify the weapon. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes.”

“Captain, let me do it. Please. Let me try.”