his wife’s property. To such a man, Shayne cogitated, and with such a grievance, a plan to defraud both his wife and an insurance company would appear both reasonable and just.
Shayne lit another cigarette and nodded as if in response to his deductions. “All right,” he said, “I get the picture. I don’t know that I blame you for taking steps. And I don’t blame you for keeping the truth concealed when things turned out as they did. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t help my position any if it came out that I was conniving with you to pull a fake robbery of your wife’s jewels. Don’t worry about me talking out of turn. But what about those threatening notes you mention? Where are they?”
“I turned them over to Mr. Painter this morning. There were three of them, threatening bodily harm to Leora unless she agreed to pay a hundred thousand dollars to the writer.”
“Anonymous?” Shayne asked casually.
“They were unsigned. She was directed to indicate her willingness to pay the sum demanded by placing an advertisement in the personal column of a newspaper.”
“And she didn’t do this?”
“She refused. As I have explained, my wife was not one to part with money easily. She pretended to dismiss the notes as the work of a harmless crank at first. Later she admitted she was worried and suggested we place the matter in the hands of a private detective. I confess my nervousness yesterday when she came to my office unexpectedly, but fortunately she spoke in such vague terms that you remained deceived.” There was a note of gratification in Thrip’s voice as though he preened himself on his cleverness in deception.
There was a short silence during which Shayne stared at the floor and Thrip stared straight ahead. Then, as if speaking to himself, Thrip muttered, “I shan’t pretend any great grief over my wife’s death, but it is a pity she had to die in such a brutal manner.”
Shayne’s eyes grew keen for an instant, but he was staring thoughtfully at the floor again when he said, “You say she pretended to dismiss the notes as the work of a crank at first. Do you imply that there was more to them than that-and she knew there was-she knew whom they were from?”
“I do imply exactly that. I feel morally certain she knew the identity of the author of the notes from the first. Guessing the authorship of the notes myself, I felt she was in grave danger, but when she refused to consider the consequences of disregarding the threats I considered myself absolved of all responsibility in the matter.”
“Hoping perhaps,” Shayne said with sharp irony, “that she would get bumped off so you could get your hands on her money.”
“I resent that, Mr. Shayne.” The realtor arose, his face purpling with wrath. “I see no reason why I should allow you to insult me. Your status in my house is that of an unwelcome intruder.”
Shayne didn’t move. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and his eyes were fixed on the toes of his number twelves. “I’m staying, Thrip. Sit down and stop swallowing your goozle. You’re not going to deny, are you, that her money comes to you and your children?”
Arnold Thrip fidgeted indecisively, then sat down on the extreme edge of his chair. “As to that, it will be a matter of common knowledge when Leora’s will is probated that half of her fortune comes to us.”
Shayne lifted his gaze sharply. “And the other half?”
“I can’t see that it’s any of your business,” Thrip said, “but her brother, Buell Renslow, will receive half of the estate. As a matter of fact, Leora’s entire portion of the fortune comes to us-half of her father’s estate. For years she has enjoyed the use of the income from the entire estate, but there was a provision in her father’s will providing that one-half should go to her brother upon her death-or be held in trust for him until his release from the penitentiary to which he was sentenced twenty-five years ago for murder.”
Shayne snapped from his moodiness with a start of surprise. “You’d better start at the beginning and tell it straight through.”
Thrip stuck a dead cigar in the little pouch he made of his lips, drew ineffectually, laid the cigar on the stand. He turned a little toward Shayne. “I can’t see that it is any concern of yours,” he said with conscious dignity.
Shayne’s half-closed eyes were brilliant. “Murder has been committed, Mr. Thrip,” he said in a low tone. “You and your children are involved. You might be doing yourself a favor to come clean with me.”
Thrip took a fresh cigar from a humidor on the stand, lit it, blew a puff of smoke ceilingward. “It is a brief though sordid story. You can understand my hesitancy in speaking of it. I have a standing in the community to maintain.”
“Well?” Shayne said impatiently.
“Two years before I married Leora, her only brother killed a man in a drunken brawl in a western mining camp. He was sentenced to life imprisonment and the disgrace of it hastened his father’s death. His father had taken millions in gold from a Colorado mine. His will stipulated that his entire fortune should be inherited by his daughter for her use as she saw fit during her lifetime, but in the event of her death, one-half of her estate should be set aside as a trust for the brother in the unlikely event that he redeemed himself and made a good enough record in the penitentiary to receive a pardon. If he should he pardoned before her death, he was to receive the income from one-half of the estate until her death. Buell Renslow was pardoned from the penitentiary two months ago.”
Thrip paused to puff on the cigar which had accumulated a long gray ash. He flipped the ash off carefully, glanced at Shayne’s impassive face, and continued:
“Renslow came here to Miami immediately after being released, and contacted his sister. He demanded that she turn over to him the money that would legally become his upon her death. Leora, being of the grasping nature I have described to you, refused his request. She instructed her attorneys to pay over to him the income every month and refused to see him after that first occasion. Two weeks later, the first threatening note arrived. I am positive it was written by her ex-convict brother, but he has never been discussed between us, and neither of us mentioned our belief that he wrote the notes. I am positive, however, that she knew they could come only from Buell Renslow.”
Shayne listened with fixed attention during the last part of the recital. Not by look or gesture did he indicate that he knew of the notes from Leora Thrip’s own lips.
He nodded and muttered, “Then this Buell will actually benefit by his sister’s death?”
“Of course. To the tune of more than a million dollars. If her death had come about under any other circumstances, Mr. Shayne, I should not hesitate to suspect her brother of the crime.”
“You mean-if you hadn’t caught the killer in the act and knew it couldn’t be Renslow?”
“Yes. That’s what I mean.”
“But he wouldn’t have access to the house,” Shayne argued. “He couldn’t have got into her room.”
Thrip looked at him in astonishment “You are overly trusting for an efficient detective, Mr. Shayne, to put it mildly. A man like that, who has consorted with criminals for years, could easily get an impression of a lock and have a locksmith make a key to fit it. He might even bribe a servant to leave a window unlatched.” His eyes were bulging at Shayne. He held the detective’s gaze steadily until he turned to contemplate his cigar.
“I-see,” Shayne said. He shrugged and asked, “What about the jewel case? I didn’t see it when I was called in last night And Darnell didn’t have a thousand-dollar bill on him-according to police reports.”
There was a red glow on Thrip’s cigar. “Why, he evidently had gone to my wife’s bed before looking for the case. A man like Darnell wouldn’t be likely to think of money while contemplating such-such a crime as he committed. At any rate, the case was on the vanity with the bill inside when I called the police. Naturally, I removed it before they arrived.”
“Naturally,” Shayne muttered.
“Quite naturally,” Thrip agreed smugly.
“What about your daughter’s friend, Carl Meldrum?” Shayne shot out. “I understand he brought her home late last night.”
“Meldrum? What about him?” Thrip appeared blandly disinterested in Meldrum.
“That’s what I’m asking you. What sort of an egg is he?”
“I know nothing against him. He appears to have money, also breeding and social position.”
Shayne said, “U-m-m. One more question, Mr. Thrip.” He was tugging at the lobe of his left ear with right thumb and forefinger. “Who was the last person to see your wife alive-and at what time?”
Thrip fidgeted in his chair. His bulging eyes were cold, his manner plainly irritated. “The police definitely established that last night. Dorothy stopped and spoke to her mother on her way up to her room at one- thirty.”
