Ballistics experts proved that the bullet which was found in the body of George Tustin Bishop had been fired from this gun.
One bullet had gone entirely through the body and that bullet had been found by police embedded in a hole in a corner of the main cabin of the Billings yacht, the
The carpet which had been laid in the main cabin was new carpet, and that carpet had been bought by John Carver Billings on Thursday morning. Finally, making a search of the garage of the rich banker, police uncovered the original carpet which had been on the floor in the main cabin. It was bloodstained and there were hairs on the carpet. Microscopic examination showed that those hairs were identical in color, diameter, texture, and appearance with hairs from the head of George Tustin Bishop. A police expert swore positively they were Bishop’s hairs.
Police as yet had been unable to find a motive for the murder, but it was known there had been a sharp difference of opinion between Bishop and the banker over financial affairs in connection with the operation of a mining company which had borrowed money at Billings’s bank.
When questioned, both Billings and his son had offered alibis and the police had broken down both alibis. That of the junior Billings had been laboriously built up at considerable expense. The older Billings had stated he had been in conference with one of the bank’s directors, a Waldo W. Jefferson, on Tuesday night, when the murder had apparently taken place. However, Jefferson, under police grilling, finally broke down and admitted that John Carver Billings had asked him as a personal favor to swear that they had been in conference Tuesday evening in order to provide him with an alibi in case it should be needed.
Billings had explained to Jefferson that there were certain private reasons why he had to have an alibi for Tuesday night, and Jefferson had such implicit confidence in the integrity of the bank president that he thought only some marital private affair was involved. He had therefore agreed to furnish the alibi. Murder had been a different proposition, and he had speedily weakened when confronted by police with the evidence they had gathered.
I went down to the yacht club.
There must have been fully three hundred morbid spectators milling around, peering through the meshed screen fences, walking aimlessly around on the outside, looking at the yachts from different angles.
Police cars came and went. Technical men were doing stuff aboard the yachts, searching for fingerprints, dusting with various powders.
Every once in a while some amateur photographer would try to crash the gates and an important-looking guard would ask for his pass. If the fellow didn’t have any, the guard would nod to a police officer who then came up and chased the guy away fast.
I stood around for an hour or two until I felt I was developing falling arches. Finally, when one of the officers relieved the club watchman and he went to get a cup of coffee, I fell into step beside him.
“I’d like some information,” I said, “and I’m a man who doesn’t want something for nothing.”
He flashed me an appraising sidelong glance. “The police told me to give out no information.”
“Oh, this isn’t about the murder,” I said, laughing. “I wouldn’t ask you about that. This is something else.”
“What?”
“I’m trying to find out something about one of the boats.”
“Which one?”
“Now there,” I told him, “you have the reason I’m coming to you. I don’t know which boat it was except that it had the insignia of this yacht club on it, and it was out cruising last Tuesday afternoon, a week ago. Now, my guess is that there aren’t many yachts go out for a cruise in the afternoon in the middle of the week.”
“You’d guess wrong,” he said grinning. “On Wednesday afternoon there are lots of them.”
“How about Monday?”
“Hardly any.”
“Tuesday?”
“Oh, a few.”
I said, “Do you keep any records of the yachts that go out?”
“No, we don’t.”
“You do, however, keep a record of the men who go through the gates?”
“That’s right.”
“Then by checking on the men who went through the gates last Tuesday afternoon, you could probably tell me something about what yachts were out?”
“The police have taken those records. They’ve taken the whole book as evidence. I’ve had to start another book.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It doesn’t make any difference except I don’t have any records I can refer to.”
“Tuesday afternoon,” I said, and took twenty dollars from my pocket.
“I’d like the twenty,” he said, “but I can’t help you.”
“Why?”
“My books are gone — the law took ‘em.”
“What’s your name?”
“Danby.”
“Perhaps you could make some dough anyway.”
“How?”
“What time do you get off today?”
“Six at night.”
“I could meet you and you could take a ride with me, sit in my car, and point out someone to me.”
“Who?”
“A man you know. I don’t know his name. I want to find out who he is. I’d give you twenty now. There’d be more later.”
Danby gave the matter thoughtful consideration.
“In the meantime,” I said, “I’d like to know a few things about your duties.”
“What?”
“You can’t be on duty every minute of the time,” I said. “There are times when you have your back turned. There are times when you’re out of the place, when you—”
“Look,” he interrupted. “You talk just like the cops. There ain’t no one going to get aboard one of those yachts without the man at the gate knowing it. If we leave that little cabin, even for thirty seconds, we throw a barrier gate inside of the first one and pull a switch which makes a bell ring on every float whenever someone steps on the platform. The members absolutely insist that no one except a member in good standing is permitted on the mooring. The club had a lot of trouble in a divorce case. The wife wanted to get some evidence. That was a couple of years ago. Detectives sneaked in and raided a yacht. It was quite a scandal. Since then the members have fixed things so no one who ain’t a member can get into that yacht club, no one, no time.”
“Doesn’t it inconvenience the members sometimes when you’re not there and—”
“I’m pretty nearly always right there. That’s my business to be there. If anything happens and I have to go away, I throw that barrier gate down into place and it’s locked. Whenever a member comes and sees that barrier gate locked he knows I’m out somewhere on the float. He also knows that the minute he pushes a foot down on that platform he rings a bell that’ll tell me he’s there. He knows I’m not going to keep him waiting, so he just steps into my little cabin. I don’t think any of them have ever had to wait more than two minutes. I’m right up there on the job. That’s my business. That’s what I’m paid for.”
I handed him the twenty dollars. “I’ll be waiting at six o’clock tonight, Danby. Just step right into my car.”
He looked at both sides of the twenty-dollar bill as though afraid it might be a counterfeit, then stalked into the restaurant without a word of thanks.
I went up and saw my broker.
“How you coming with the mining stock?” I asked.
