The XYZ Murders, page 29
“So that I was forced to conclude: Improbable, wild, hectic as it seemed, Charles Wood, conductor of the streetcar, had taken the glove from the scene of the crime and disposed of it somewhere. It struck me at first as strange, naturally; but the argument was so rigorous and uncompromising that I was forced to accept the conclusion.”
“Perfectly wonderful,” said the District Attorney.
Lane chuckled and went on. “Charles Wood, then, having taken the glove from the car and disposed of it, was either the murderer himself or an accomplice of the murderer, from whom in the crush of the crowd he had received the glove for disposal.
“You will recall that at the conclusion of Inspector Thumm’s story I said that the course of action was clear, but abstained from elucidation. The reason was that I could not have known at that time beyond a doubt that Wood was the murderer; there was always the possibility that he was an accomplice. But of his guilt in one capacity or the other I was convinced, since had the glove been slipped into his pocket by the murderer without Wood’s knowledge—that is, if Wood were innocent of deliberate complicity—the glove would have been found on him when he was searched, or found by Wood himself and reported to the police. In other words: Since the glove was not reported by him or found on his person, he must have deliberately disposed of it when he was out of the car summoning Officer Morrow. This is guilt, either if he was disposing of it for himself or for someone else.”
“Pretty—pretty as a picture,” muttered Thumm.
“There was a psychological check-up,” continued Lane amiably, “on the logical indication of Wood’s guilt. Naturally, he could not have anticipated being granted the opportunity to leave the car and dispose of the glove. No, he must have weighed his chances and accepted the possibility of having the glove found on him if there were a search and he had had no opportunity to throw it away. But here was one of the most subtle elements of the murderer’s plan! For even if the glove were discovered on Wood, even if no other glove were found on the car, as actually transpired, he would still feel reasonably secure against suspicion; since it is normally expected that a conductor, even in the heat of summer, when others do not ordinarily wear or carry gloves, will use a glove in the performance of his duty. As a conductor, handling money all day long, he possessed the psychological advantage of knowing that a glove on his person would be taken for granted. This line of corroborative reasoning also convinced me that my original idea about the glove was absolutely sound; for if Wood could not have anticipated the opportunity to dispose of his hand-covering, he would have used the most ordinary article, like a glove. A handkerchief would be found stained with the poison.
“Another point. Wood could not have planned his crime for rainy weather, which forced him to close the windows and doors; rather he must have planned it for fair weather. In fair weather he would have had ample opportunity to dispose of the glove by throwing it out of an open window or door, and the police would surely reason—he could depend on it—that the glove could have been thrown out by anyone on the car. In fair weather, too, people would have boarded and probably left the car along the route with frequency, so that the police would have to consider the possibility that the murderer had escaped. Why, then, in the face of the advantages fair weather would have afforded him, did he choose rainy weather during which to kill Longstreet? This puzzled me for a time; but a little concentration indicated that this particular evening, rainy or not, presented the murderer with an almost unique opportunity; namely, the fact that Longstreet was accompanied by a large party of friends, all of whom would come under direct suspicion. Perhaps the incredible good fortune of this circumstance blinded him momentarily to the complications which would ensue because of the inclement weather.
“As a conductor, of course, he had two advantages which the average murderer would not have had. First, as everyone knows, a conductor’s coat contains leather-lined pockets in which change is kept; and one of these afforded absolute safety to himself while keeping the weapon handy until he was ready to use it. Probably for weeks he had kept that needled cork, already dipped in poison, ready in his pocket. Second, as a conductor he could be certain of an opportunity to drop the weapon into his victim’s pocket, since everyone who boards a car must, in cars of the Forty-Second Street Crosstown type, pass by the conductor. This was made even more favorable by the great crowd around the rear platform during the rush-hour. Two additional confirmations of a psychological nature, it seemed to me, in the consideration of Wood’s guilt.…”
“Uncanny,” said Bruno at this point. “Positively weird, Mr. Lane. For Stopes’s confession bears you out in every particular, and I know that you’ve had no conversation with him. Specifically, Stopes says that he manufactured the needled cork himself, and procured the poison in the way Dr. Schilling so cleverly postulated in his autopsy report—from an insecticide purchasable in open market and evaporated until the sticky mass containing a high percentage of pure nicotine was left; whereupon he dipped his needles into the mass, and there he was. He dropped the weapon into Longstreet’s pocket while Longstreet was detained at the rear platform waiting to pay the fares for his party and receive his change. He also says, in further confirmation, that he had intended to kill the man on a fair-weather evening, but when he saw Longstreet appear with such a large private party, he could not resist the temptation to involve as suspects Longstreet’s friends and enemies, despite the rain.”
“Triumph of mind over matter, as the professors say,” volunteered Thumm.
Lane smiled. “A graceful compliment from an admittedly material person, Inspector.… To continue. You see, then, that at the conclusion of your story to me I was certain of Wood’s complicity, but whether he was the murderer or merely an accomplice or tool of a second and unknown person I did not know. This was, of course, before the arrival of the anonymous letter.
“Now, unfortunately, none of us knew that Wood was the author of that letter, and when by comparison of handwritings we did discover this fact, it was too late to prevent the second tragedy. At the time the letter arrived, it appeared to be the communication of an innocent witness who had accidentally come into possession of dangerously vital knowledge and meant to inform the police even at risk of his own life. When later I saw that Wood himself, who I knew was not an innocent witness, had written that letter, the letter on analysis could only have meant: One, that as the murderer himself he was giving the police a false trail leading away from himself by implicating an innocent person; or two, that as accomplice Wood meant to give up the real murderer, or at the real murderer’s instigation meant to frame an innocent person.
“But there was something wrong here. Wood himself was murdered.” Lane placed the tips of his fingers together and closed his eyes again. “In the light of this inconsistency, I was forced to retrace my steps and re-analyze the two interpretations of the letter.
“The most pressing problem was this: If Wood were the murderer of Longstreet (not an accomplice), why then was he himself murdered on the Mohawk, and who murdered him?” Lane smiled reminiscently. “This problem was productive of interesting thoughts. For I saw at once that there were three possibilities: one, that Wood had an accomplice despite the fact that he himself was the murderer, and the accomplice killed him—in which case either the accomplice was afraid Wood meant to frame him for the Longstreet murder, or reveal the accomplice as the instigator though not the killer. Or two, that Wood was working alone, had no accomplice, was intending to frame an innocent person, and was killed by this innocent person. Or three, that Wood was killed by an unknown for reasons in no way connected with the Longstreet murder.”
Lane continued swiftly. “I analyzed each possibility thoroughly. The first case—implausible. Because if the accomplice was afraid Wood meant to frame him for the Longstreet killing, or to reveal him as instigator of the crime, it would be more to the accomplice’s advantage to let Wood remain alive; since in case one I was assuming that Wood was the killer himself. In the event of a frame-up, the accomplice could throw the original guilt back on Wood; whereas, if he killed Wood, he was making himself a murderer, on top of being an accessory to the first murder, and would in this event have less chance of going scot-free and no chance of turning State’s evidence.
“The second case—similarly implausible. For first of all the innocent party would probably not know in advance of Wood’s intention to frame him by the ruse of informing the police that the innocent party had killed Longstreet; and second, even if he did know, he certainly would not commit murder to protect himself from being falsely accused of murder.
“The third case, that Wood was killed by an unknown for reasons unknown, was a possibility, but a remote one, since it would entail an amazing coincidence—the juxtaposition of unrelated motives.
“A peculiar thing happened here, gentlemen.” Lane stared into the fire for a moment, then closed his eyes again. “From this analysis, and since I was pursuing the investigation along lines of strictest logic, I was forced to conclude that the interpretation was wrong—that Wood was not himself the murderer of Longstreet. The three possibilities I had examined were all implausible—most unsatisfactory.
“So I allowed myself to be carried along with the main stream of my argument. I examined the second possible interpretation—that Wood, not the murderer of Longstreet, was an accomplice of the murderer, that by his letter he meant to give up the real murderer. This theory made the subsequent assassination of Wood quite understandable. It would indicate that the real murderer had discovered Wood’s intention to squeal, and had killed Wood to prevent him from divulging the real murderer’s identity. A perfectly logical deduction, and there was nothing to show that I was in error.
“But I was not yet out of the bulrushes; I was in fact becoming more and more mired in the swamp of reasoning. For, if this hypothesis was correct, I was forced to ask myself: Why should Wood, an accomplice and therefore accessory to the Longstreet murder, come to the police with his traitorous story? He could not have expected, if he revealed the identity of the murderer, to conceal his own part in the affair; either he would be forced to reveal it on police questioning, or the murderer himself on being apprehended would reveal it out of desperate retaliation. Then why, why, in spite of certain danger to himself, did Wood choose to disclose the murderer’s identity? The only answer—a sound but vaguely unsatisfactory one—was that, regretting or fearing the consequences of his complicity in the Longstreet murder, he meant to protect himself by turning State’s evidence.
“At this point in the pursuit of the argument there was no question of choice. The most plausible explanation for Wood’s murder in the face of his letter to the police and his own guilty connection with the Longstreet murder was that he was killed by the real murderer because he intended to turn traitor.”
Lane sighed and stretched his legs nearer the firedog. “In any event, my course of action was clear, in fact inevitable; I must investigate Wood’s life and background in an effort to find a clue to the identity of the person for whom he acted as accomplice—the person who would himself be the murderer, if two criminals and not one were involved.
“This investigation provided the turning-point of my problem. Apparently fruitless at first, a new field was opened up almost by chance, and I was astounded by what … But let me begin in the proper place.
“You will recall, Inspector, that I took the inexcusable liberty of impersonating you when I went to Wood’s rooming-house in Weehawken. My purpose was not Machiavellian; invested with your personality and authority, I could pursue lines of inquiry unhampered by the necessity of explanation. I did not know definitely where or for what to look. I examined the room, and everything I found was in perfect harmony. The cigars, the ink and papers, the bankbook. There was Wood’s crowning touch, gentlemen! He actually left a bankbook and forfeited what must have been to him a considerable sum of money, merely to lend color to the illusion he was creating! I went to the bank; the money was there, untouched. The rate of deposit was regular and in no way open to suspicion. I consulted tradesmen of the neighborhood, endeavoring to find something, anything which might disclose some clue to a possible secret connection in the man’s life, someone he may have been seen with. There was nothing, nothing at all. I visited neighborhood doctors and dentists, and this interested me. Apparently the man had never consulted a physician. I asked myself why, remembered that he possibly had consulted one in New York—a pharmacist pointed this out—and dismissed the fleeting suspicion for the moment.
“When I visited the Personnel Manager of the street-car company, still on the trail of I knew not what, quite by chance I became aware of a monstrous, incredible, and yet increasingly intriguing fact. You will remember that the autopsy report on the corpse of the man murdered on the Mohawk, identified as Wood, included mention of a two-year-old appendicitis scar. Yet, when I examined the company records of Wood’s employment and spoke with the Manager, I discovered that Wood had worked every working day for five years preceding his murder, without vacation.”
Lane’s voice throbbed; Bruno and Thumm sat forward, mesmerized by the exultation on the actor’s face. “But how in the name of all the patron saints of drama was it possible for Wood to have been operated upon for appendicitis two years before his death and yet to have worked every working day for five years before his death? An appendicitis operation, as everyone knows, calls for at least ten days’ stay in the hospital—and that is a rare minimum. Most persons are kept away from their work for from two to six weeks.
“The answer was as uncompromising as the ambition of Lady Macbeth—a discrepancy which proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the body found and thought to be Wood’s—the body with the two-year-old appendicitis scar—was not Wood’s at all. But this meant—and how my eyes opened at the newly discovered terrain!—this meant that Wood was not murdered, that a deliberate attempt had been made to make it appear as if he had been murdered; in other words, that Wood was still alive:”
In the cathedral silence that followed, Thumm sighed with an oddly synthetic excitement; and Lane smiled as he continued in a low swift pursuit of his thought. “At once all the elements of the second murder rearranged themselves in orderly rows. The incontrovertible fact that Wood was still alive indicated that the letter which he had sent in his own handwriting was a blind; that it was meant to prepare the police for Wood’s apparent murder; that there was no intention from the beginning to divulge anyone’s identity as the Longstreet murderer; that the police, finding Wood murdered after he had promised to divulge the killer’s identity, could only believe that this murderer had killed Wood to seal his mouth forever; whereas in this way Wood completely effaced himself from the scene, making himself appear an innocent man killed by a murderer still unknown. The letter and the deception in the identity of the corpse in the water were therefore clever means of putting the police wholly off the scent of the real criminal, Wood himself.
“And what other channels did this all-important deduction open for speculation! For the reason Wood effaced himself in the second crime was that he had to disappear, as will be obvious when we come to the third crime, where he faced the possibility of being called as a witness in the character of Edward Thompson, and called simultaneously with the witnesses in the first crime, as Charles Wood—and how could he be two personalities at the same time in the same place? Another point: Wood’s plan for self-effacement literally killed two birds with one stone—he not only killed himself as Charles Wood, but he also killed an unknown—the man whose dead body was found dressed in Wood’s clothes on the ferry.
“To proceed along this last line. The body supposed to be Wood’s had a peculiar scar on the calf of one leg, and red hair; other features being so mauled and smashed as to be useless for identification. Now we know that Wood had red hair and, from Motorman Guiness, that Wood had an identical scar on his leg. But the body found was not Wood’s. The red hair might have been a coincidence, but the scars plausibly could not. Wood’s scar then must have been false—and false for at least five years, the period of his service with the car company, since he showed the scar to Guiness immediately after going to work on the car. Then he planned to be the superficial counterpart of the man who was to be killed on the Mohawk in at least two particulars—hair and scar—so that when the body was found it would seem to be Wood’s without question. Then the plan of the ferry-boat crime must have been of at least five years’ duration. But since the ferry-boat crime was the result of the Longstreet murder, then Longstreet’s murder must also have been planned five years or more before.
“Another conclusion: Since Wood was seen boarding the ferry and was not killed, as supposed, he must have escaped from the ferry in disguise. He might have been one of those who slipped off the boat before Thumm gave instructions to hold everyone, or …”
“As a matter of fact,” interrupted Bruno, “your correlative supposition is the true one. Actually, he was one of those who were detained on the boat. Stopes says he was Henry Nixon, the jewelry salesman.”
“Nixon, eh?” murmured Drury Lane. “Very clever. The man should have been an actor—he had an instinctive gift for assuming alien personalities. I never did know whether Wood was on the boat after the murder or not. But now that you tell me he was posing as Nixon the salesman, the facts tenon nicely. As Nixon the salesman he carried off the ferry the cheap handbag which as Wood the conductor he had carried onto the ferry. He needed the handbag because of the necessity of transporting the salesman-disguise, a blunt instrument with which to stun his victim, weights with which to sink the victim’s own clothing in the river.… Very clever indeed. As an itinerant salesman his lack of a permanent address and his absence at odd times, if he were superficially investigated, would be accepted as conforming with his trade. Furthermore, by retaining the handbag, which had also been stocked beforehand with trinkets—he was wearing the salesman’s clothing, having thrown the victim’s clothing away plus the weights and the blunt instrument—he made his rôle natural and convincing. He had even gone to the length, I recall, of having order-blanks printed with his assumed name, and a lodging place where he was known to have stopped sporadically in the past was prepared. His personality as Nixon also accounts for Wood’s purchase of a new handbag, for he could not carry off the boat, as the salesman, the old handbag which would be easier to identify as having been Wood’s. He even went to the length of breaking the handle of his old bag, to make the deception complete. Altogether, I must say, a brilliantly thorough means of preparing for the contingency of not being able to escape from the boat before the police detained everyone; for of course he could not have foreseen the opportunity to slip off the boat before the hue-and-cry, or risked it in his plan.”
