A Mexican policeman came in and saluted briskly, laying a little wad of cotton on the desk in front of Rodriquiz. A misshapen lump of lead lay on top of the cotton. He spoke briefly in Spanish and went out.
The captain lifted the bullet and weighed it in his fingers for a moment. He nodded gravely, and passed it to Shayne. “It is the death bullet. Of thirty-eight caliber, I think.”
Shayne leaned forward to take it. Carmela’s eyes were fixed on it in fascination. Shayne tested its weight as had the captain, and agreed, “It’s about the right weight.” He inspected it closely, “Impossible to get a decent ballistics test, the way it mushroomed against a bone.”
“The way it is flattened,” said Rodriquiz firmly, “is most important, I think.”
Shayne nodded. He told Carmela, “That’s what happens to a bullet when it’s been notched like those in your gun.”
She shrank away from him. “I didn’t shoot him, Michael. I swear I didn’t.”
“But your gun did.”
“How do you know? You just said it couldn’t be tested by ballistics, the way it’s flattened out. That’s the only way to prove it was fired from my gun, isn’t it?”
“Even if it wasn’t mushroomed,” Shayne growled, “there isn’t enough rifling in that sawed-off barrel to make a conclusive test. But we can easily enough prove it’s the right caliber — and any expert will swear it was notched like yours before it was fired. There were only three shots fired, Carmela. And three bullets have been fired from your gun. For God’s sake,” he went on hoarsely, “don’t bury your face in the sand. This is murder. You can fry for it just the same as anyone else if you don’t tell the truth. Who fired your pistol the first time, if you didn’t?”
She shook her head defiantly. “No one. It was in my bag when that first shot was fired.”
“That’s a lousy story,” Shayne groaned. “All the facts are against you. You can beat the rap by admitting you killed him. Hell, Cochrane was a skunk. He’d lured you into this trip to Papa Tonto’s, the worst kind of a dive. You wouldn’t have any trouble making a jury believe you had a hell of a good reason for killing him.”
“But I didn’t!” she cried fiercely.
“All right. Then you’re lying to protect the one who did,” Shayne told her coldly. “That’s the only other answer that fits the facts.”
“I want a lawyer,” she said suddenly. “You told me I didn’t have to answer without a lawyer to advise me.”
Shayne nodded glumly. “You’ll have a chance to think it over tonight.” He looked at Rodriquiz. “I suppose you’ll hold her.”
The captain spread out his hands eloquently. “As you have said. With the facts we have, I cannot do otherwise.”
“While you’re thinking it over in a cell,” Shayne told her harshly, “I’ll be looking for Lance Bayliss. This isn’t just one murder, Carmela. It’s the third.”
She stood up, averting her head proudly. “I’m ready, Captain.”
He leaped to his feet and opened the door for her. He returned a few minutes later and reseated himself with a sigh. “You have a theory, Mr. Shayne?”
“No. Only that this is hooked up somehow with two other recent murders in El Paso.” Shayne scowled across the room. “Haven’t they picked up Marquita and her soldiers yet?”
“They are bringing Marquita in for questioning. Her companions have not been found. The girl was arrested a few minutes ago in her room a few blocks from Papa Tonto’s.”
Shayne gave him a description of Lance Bayliss. “You’d better get out a pick-up for him. I don’t know how he figures in this, but I’m afraid his alibi for the time of the murder may be important.”
“He is — the sweetheart of Miss Towne?”
“He was. Long ago.” Shayne rumpled his red hair angrily. “He’s the only person mixed up in any of this whom Carmela might protect.”
“It is your opinion that this man used her gun?”
“It makes too much sense to please me,” Shayne admitted. “Bayliss used to love Carmela, and he hated Cochrane’s guts. If he was hiding in the alley tonight, it could have happened that way. I can imagine him attacking Cochrane, getting the worst of it in the scuffle, and Carmela opening her bag to get the gun and help him out. Whether he grabbed it and pulled the trigger, or whether she did-” He shook his head, glaring at the short-barreled weapon. “You’d better test it for fingerprints.”
“I have touched it only by the trigger-guard,” Rodriquiz assured him. “If you wish to make the tests in your laboratories, I will be happy.”
“Sure,” Shayne agreed. “Reload it just as it was when you took it away from her. And I’ll take this bullet along, if you want.”
“It will be best.” Rodriquiz carefully reloaded the revolver with both empty and full cartridges. “We have not the modern laboratory in Juarez.”
A policeman came in with Cochrane’s belongings that had been found on his person. There was a key ring and some loose change, a leather billfold, and a telegram in its yellow envelope. The billfold had an assortment of business cards and $67 in bills. The telegram had been sent that day from Mexico City. It read: Legal title to Plata Azul passed to Senora Telgucado on death of husband to be held in trust during her lifetime for legal heirs.- Aguido Valverde.
Marquita Morales was ushered into the office while they were puzzling over the telegram. She had washed most of the rouge from her face, and changed from her black dress to a blouse and wool skirt. She looked young and frightened, and she loosed a torrent of questions in her own language at the captain as soon as she was inside the room.
Shayne couldn’t follow the conversation with his limited knowledge of Spanish, but the captain sternly quieted her and then proceeded with the questioning in English.
Marquita started by stating that she had been alone in her room all evening and hadn’t the slightest idea why she had been arrested and dragged to police headquarters, but she began to sob and changed her story as soon as the captain informed her that she had been watched by American and Mexican police ever since she picked up the two soldiers in El Paso that afternoon.
She then admitted inducing the soldiers to come to Juarez with her, and taking them to a place where they could change clothes to cross the border unchallenged. They had dinner and a few drinks at El Gato Pobre, she said sullenly, but that was too tame for them and they insisted on going elsewhere.
Yes, to Papa Tonto’s, she flashed at her questioner. Why not? It was what the stupid gringo soldados wanted. But when they were approaching the place through the alley, someone started shooting at them from behind. They were frightened, and they ran away from the bullets, she said simply. She didn’t know where the soldiers went. She lost them in the darkness, and she hurried to her own room and bolted the door and stayed there until the police came.
Yes, she had noticed the American couple following her down the street from El Gato Pobre, but she didn’t know why. She knew Senor Cochrane slightly, she admitted with a toss of her head and a defiant glance at Shayne, but she didn’t know why he would follow her. She at first refused to admit he had spoken to her in the cafe, and then admitted the dance with him, and said that he had asked her if the two men at her table were soldiers, and he refused to believe her when she denied it. He warned her to be careful of trouble if they were soldiers, but she didn’t think it was any of his business and told him so.
No, she hadn’t seen anyone else in the alley except the couple behind her. There might have been someone hiding against the buildings in the darkness as they passed, she admitted, but they had seen no one. Their first intimation of trouble was when shots sounded behind them and bullets started whizzing over their heads.
Then they ran so fast that if there was anyone else running behind them, she didn’t think they would have known it.
Captain Rodriquiz shrugged and gave up the questioning with a glance at Shayne. The big redhead hunched forward and said, “You remember me, don’t you, Marquita?”
“Si, I theenk you are in ze police office in El Paso.”
“How many soldiers have you brought over to Papa Tonto’s this way?” Shayne demanded.
“No others,” she insisted. “I ’ave heard ees easy for do, so I try tonight.”
“Who told you about it?”
She shrugged. Some of the other girls in Juarez. It was a common practice, she said.
