“To the best of your recollection, did the older woman find her ticket?”
“No, sir. I noticed. She didn’t even seem to look for it anymore. Just faded in the crowd. She didn’t go by me; I was sort of looking out for her.”
“You did not see her again?”
“No, sir.”
“Thank you. Stand down.”
The next witness was a conductor, who testified he had taken up Mrs. Halloran’s ticket and seen her on the train near Chicago. So she had gone, all right.
“Next witness, Mrs. Gwynne Dacres.”
My heart beat fast. I got past Mr. Kistler’s knees, up to the armchair, was sworn. Then I became so immersed in answering questions I forgot to be frightened. I was asked in detail about coming home that Friday night, the cat in the hall, the noises I’d heard, the attack on me. Then I was told to stand down.
It was obvious they were trying to get the facts as chronologically as possible.
Obvious, too, as the questioning went on, that the whole thing was merely a process of law. To the police, all the evidence elicited was known before. Of course, it would be; they’d gotten the witnesses together and questioned them all before. But I heard a few things which were as useful to me, later, as keys in the hand.
Mr. Kistler was called after me, to tell of finding me that Friday night.
Then Officer Foster was called. He turned out to be the policeman I’d known as Jerry. He told of the search that Friday night.
One after the other, Mrs. Garr’s lodgers were then called, to give their testimony up to that point. Especial emphasis was laid on Mr. Grant’s testimony that he had seen Mrs. Garr coming home around eight thirty.
The discovery of the death was then taken up, in exactly the same manner. I’ll give Foster’s evidence.
“Now, Foster, we come to the search of the basement room in which Mrs. Garr’s remains were found. You assisted that search?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You say the remains, the clothes, and the hair were scattered about the floor, but mostly near the door.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was there any sign of a gun having been fired in that room?”
“No, sir.”
“Any other implement or thing which showed signs of having been used as a weapon?”
“No, sir. There were knives in the table drawer. But they were all clean. Pretty clean, I mean. Anyhow, they didn’t show any signs of havin’ been used to stab her.”
“No hammers or axes?”
“We found tools in a box in the furnace room. Under test, they show they’ve been used in the usual ways, nothing more.”
“To sum up, then, no weapon for murder was in your estimation present in the kitchen?”
“No, sir.”
“Was there any sign of disorder in the room? Of a struggle, for instance?”
“Well, sir, it wasn’t in very nice shape, as you can imagine. But there wasn’t any furniture overturned, nothing like that. The only sign of disturbance was that glass jar of macaroni. Dry macaroni. It was half spilled out on the table.”
“The electric light was not on?”
“No, sir.”
“The room was tested for fingerprints?”
“Yes, sir. But we didn’t get any good ones, except a couple of the old lady’s on the stove and places like that. None on the glass jar. Most of the fingerprints weren’t good, surfaces not right. Cement and weathered wood.”
“I see. Now the location of the key, Foster. Where was it found?”
I leaned forward, intent. The key! This was the first time I had heard it mentioned.
“The key was lying on the kitchen table, just a little way from the jar of spilled macaroni.”
“You are sure the key was there when you broke the lock?”
“Well, sir, we didn’t let anyone in that room from the time we broke the lock until the time we searched it. Mr. Waller and Mr. Kistler went to the door and looked in, but they looked over Officer Harlan’s shoulder. I don’t think they could have thrown a key all the way across that room to the table from the door. Certainly not without Red—without Officer Harlan knowing it.”
“You are certain the key found on that table was the key to that room?”
“Yes, sir. We tried it.”
“Is it possible that another key could be used in that lock?”
“I don’t believe so, sir. We’d splintered out the door to get in, but we hadn’t hurt the lock much. We tried a bunch of other keys, skeletons, everything. We gave it the works. None of them even budged the lock. It was a funny old lock, handmade, I wouldn’t be surprised. Besides, it didn’t show any signs of having been tampered with. It did when we was through.”
“You also aided in the search of the rest of the basement?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any yield there?”
“Well, sir, in the storage room. On the rocking chair in there was a black coat, not a heavy coat, just sort of dropped there. And a pocketbook, a black pocketbook, under it. There was a hat dropped down behind a box alongside.”
“A moment, please.”
Lieutenant Strom here spoke to one of his men, who hurried out, to return with a bundle. It was opened on the desk; the errand runner held up the contents.
“These the clothes found in that storage room, Foster?”
“Yes, sir.”
He was told to stand down, while Mrs. Halloran and Mr. Banks identified the clothing as having been worn by Mrs. Garr at the station. Officer Foster was then recalled.
“Did you
