Rafferty's Last Case, page 3
“I only wish I had pressed Shad to tell me what he knew,” Thomas said. “Things might have turned out differently.”
“Do not blame yourself,” Holmes said. “What might have been is of no use to what must be. You did nothing wrong. It is the murderer who must be held to account.”
Thomas then told us about a most intriguing clue he’d found by Rafferty’s body and deliberately hidden from the police. He produced a small piece of paper with a telephone number written on it. “The writing is definitely Shad’s. I’m guessing he must have taken it out of one of his pockets just before he died. I’m sure he was trying to tell us something.”
Thomas said the telephone number, Garfield 2030, was for an answering service with multiple clients. “But I don’t know who the clients are or which of them Shad might have been interested in.”
“And I take it you were unfamiliar with the number before last night?”
“That’s right, Mr. Holmes. Shad never mentioned it to me, so I figure it was something he’d come across very recently.”
“Perhaps it related to that astounding development he spoke of. We shall look into it shortly. In the meantime, Mr. Thomas, tell us more about the suspects in the St. Aubin case.”
Thomas did so, describing each of the men in considerable detail, beginning with Grimshaw. He concluded by stating, “I’m ninety-nine percent sure one of them also murdered Shad.”
“That may well be,” Holmes said. “However, we cannot be as a blinkered horse, seeing only a narrow path before us. We must keep our eyes open to all possibilities.”
AFTER BREAKFAST, we went up to Rafferty’s apartment. Holmes made a close study of the door lock before we entered the apartment, which looked as though it had been struck by a violent windstorm. The floors were littered with paper, notebooks, and a miscellany of other items. Drawers and cabinets had been rifled through, books pulled down from their shelves, storage boxes overturned, and clothes removed from closets.
“The police don’t go about their business delicately,” Thomas said.
“Clearly, they were very thorough,” Holmes said. “Yet we know Mr. Rafferty’s notes on the St. Aubin case were already gone from his desk, presumably taken by the murderer, before the police arrived. Do you have any idea, Mr. Thomas, what else the police may have been looking for?”
“No, but I didn’t notice anything missing except for the notes when I looked around here last night after the coppers left. There was one funny thing, however.”
Thomas then went to a safe in the bedroom and removed two guns. One was a Colt automatic pistol. The other was a peculiar weapon with a barrel perhaps ten inches long. Thomas identified this second one as a pocket rifle belonging to Rafferty and said, “I found these last night on that table by the door, both fully loaded. It’s strange because Shad hadn’t used the pocket rifle or the Colt .45 for years. I can’t figure why he’d have left them out unless he was getting ready for trouble.”
Holmes said, “Perhaps he was. But before we delve into the mystery of the two guns, tell us more about the notes Mr. Rafferty kept regarding the St. Aubin case. I gather Mr. Rafferty was meticulous about recording his observations and ideas.”
“I don’t know if meticulous would be the right word, but he did his best to maintain good notes when he was investigating a case. He used to keep pretty much everything in his head because he had an amazing memory. But as he got older he realized he had to start putting things down on paper—clues he found, people he interviewed, theories he was considering, that sort of stuff. And I know he typed up a lot of notes about St. Aubin because he referred to them all the time.”
“And you said Mr. Rafferty kept the notes in his study?”
“Yes. They would have been in a folder on his desk or in one of the drawers. I’ll show you.”
The apartment consisted of five rooms—a parlor, a study, a bedroom, a small kitchen, and a bath. Thomas led us into the study, where he’d found Rafferty’s body. A dark crimson stain on the oriental rug marked the spot where our friend had spent his dying moments. It was a melancholy sight, and I hoped Rafferty had not suffered unduly.
Files and notebooks were strewn all around a large desk in the middle of the study. The desk’s drawers were open, as were those of a nearby file cabinet. The police obviously had gone through all the drawers and left anything they didn’t want on the floor. Holmes gathered up the discarded documents and quickly scanned them but found nothing of value. He then turned his attention to the desk. Its expansive top was bare save for an Underwood typewriter and a tray of paper.
Holmes examined the typewriter and remarked at once that its ribbon was missing. “I do not imagine Mr. Rafferty made a habit of typing without a ribbon,” he said. “Someone obviously removed it.”
“I didn’t even notice that,” Thomas said. “But why would the killer take the ribbon?”
“Because it shows the machine’s key strikes and therefore might have told us what Mr. Rafferty had most recently typed. Of course, it is also possible the police took it as evidence, although I rather doubt that. What we can say for certain is that it was no burglar who murdered Mr. Rafferty, as the police claim. A burglar would have had no reason to take the ribbon.”
Holmes now searched the desk drawers, one of which contained a package of carbon paper along with pens, pencils, paper clips, and other small items.
“Did Mr. Rafferty make a habit of using carbon paper when he typed?” Holmes asked Thomas.
“Sometimes. If he thought something was important, he’d usually make a copy.”
“Where would he keep those copies?”
“I don’t really know. Probably in that file cabinet.”
But the cabinet’s three drawers were empty, and there were no carbon duplicates among the documents scattered on the floor.
Holmes surveyed the scene for a few more moments, then said, “You are right, Mr. Thomas, in thinking the killer took all of Mr. Rafferty’s notes pertaining to the St. Aubin case. But I wonder if he found any carbon copies. We shall have to see about that. Now, what about the murder weapon? You told us the knife belonged to Mr. Rafferty. Where was it usually kept?”
“In the curio cabinet in the parlor.”
The study, with its blood and memories, began to feel oppressive, and I was relieved when Holmes went out to look at the cabinet. He inspected the sheath where the knife had been kept and used his magnifying glass to look for fingerprints. Then he said, “It is instructive that the killer used a knife from this cabinet. Finding it here amid so many other objects would have taken some effort, and yet he had it in hand when he accosted Mr. Rafferty. It suggests he knew in advance where the knife was kept. If so, Mr. Rafferty’s murder was a premeditated crime and not the random act of a burglar, as the police seem wont to believe.”
After Holmes had made an exhaustive examination of the apartment, we took seats around Rafferty’s small kitchen table, where a half-eaten piece of toast on a small plate reminded us of our lost friend.
“He always had his toast here in the morning,” Thomas said softly. “I guess I’ll have to clean up the place.”
“Yes, but that will have to wait,” Holmes said, looking at Thomas. “We must focus on what happened here last night. You told us Mr. Rafferty was stabbed from behind and so had no chance to defend himself. And we know the attack must have occurred not long before you arrived on the scene and were struck down yourself.”
“That’s right. I came up because he was late for our dinner.”
“Yet Mr. Rafferty was always very prompt about meeting you for dinner, was he not?”
“Yes.”
“But he was unaccountably late last night. Why? Several possibilities come to mind. The first is that the killer was someone Mr. Rafferty knew, quite possibly one of the suspects you mentioned. The killer paid a call on Mr. Rafferty, who admitted him to the apartment. They perhaps talked for a time before entering the study, and then as Mr. Rafferty turned around he was suddenly attacked, with no opportunity to defend himself. What do you think of that possibility, Mr. Thomas?”
Thomas shook his head and said forthrightly, “No offense, Mr. Holmes, but I think little of it.”
“Why is that?”
“In the first place, how did the killer manage to get his hands on the knife without Shad seeing him? Also, Shad was nobody’s fool. Remember, he told me he was close to solving the case. He wouldn’t have let any of the suspects into the apartment without being very careful. At a minimum, he would have armed himself, by which I mean he’d have a gun on his person, not just sitting on the table. And if he thought the man could be the killer, he would never have turned his back on him.”
“I agree. Here is another possibility: what if the man had a gun, accosted Mr. Rafferty outside the apartment door, and forced him to go inside?”
“I suppose that’s possible, Mr. Holmes. But I knew Shad as well as anyone, and if a man with a gun told him to turn around, he just wouldn’t do it. He always said if you turned your back to a man pointing a gun at you, you were asking to be shot. No, even in his condition, he would have had it out with the man right then and there. Besides, if the man had a gun, why would he have stabbed Shad?”
Holmes smiled and said, “I must concur. I am very much inclined to favor a third possibility, which is that the killer lay in wait here for Mr. Rafferty, who had gone out for some reason before his planned dinner with you. That could explain the two guns. Perhaps he had them with him when he went out, then set them down after his return, only to be ambushed in his study.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Thomas said, “but I still wonder why he would have taken along that old pocket rifle. It’s not much good unless you’re shooting at a distance, and it’s hard to conceal.”
“True, it is peculiar. But there is a much bigger question, which is where Mr. Rafferty went before he came back here. Wherever it was, he must have felt he was in danger. Otherwise, there would have been no need for all the weaponry. And given Mr. Rafferty’s infirmities, I do not think he would have gone far. Is it possible he had a meeting with someone here in the hotel?”
“Could be, I suppose, but where?”
“That is what we shall have to find out. Incidentally, did you find Mr. Rafferty’s wallet?”
“No. Either the killer took it or the cops did when they searched the place. Shad usually kept it in a drawer in the same table where the guns are. My guess is that if the cops grabbed it, they just wanted the money. Shad usually carried a hundred dollars or so around with him.”
“The police may have had another reason for taking it,” Holmes said.
“So that the murder would look like a robbery,” I offered.
“Watson, you have become a first-class detective in your old age. Yes, that is the reason. If true, it suggests the police were in some manner a party to Mr. Rafferty’s murder, and I need not tell you what difficulties that could present for our investigation.”
“You are right, Mr. Holmes, but I must warn you: Big Jack Grimshaw is a hard customer and not a man you want as your enemy,” Thomas said.
“Doubtlessly not, but if so, we shall do what we must,” Holmes said. “We may make many enemies before this business is done. Now then, let us go back to the matter of how the killer entered the apartment, assuming he was lying in wait for Mr. Rafferty. I have carefully examined the door lock, for which I found a key hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Do you know if Mr. Rafferty had any other keys to the apartment?”
“No, it was just that one. I had another. If he accidentally locked himself out, he could always get a passkey from the front desk.”
“I see. And did he make a habit of keeping the key on the hook?”
“Yes. He’d hang it up first thing when he returned to the apartment. That way he’d always know where it was.”
“Now, as for the door lock itself, it is an old but very intricate model made by Mallory and Wheeler, a Connecticut firm I believe is now out of business. May I ask, Mr. Thomas, when this hotel was built?”
“That’s easy. We opened our saloon on the ground floor in 1885, when the hotel was brand new.”
“I thought as much. As it so happens, Mallory and Wheeler locks from that era are difficult to pick because they require a very special sort of tool. I doubt there are many people alive today, in St. Paul or anywhere else, who would have such an instrument readily at hand.”
“So you’re suggesting whoever entered the apartment must have been a skilled locksmith, is that it?” I asked.
“Possibly. However, I saw no evidence of tampering around the lock. I strongly doubt anyone tried to force it. All of which suggests the murderer had a key to the apartment, used a hotel passkey, or gained possession of one or the other in some fashion. Mr. Thomas, did anyone beside you and Mr. Rafferty have a key to the apartment?”
“No.”
“Then we shall have to explore in more detail how the killer gained access. But for the moment let us return to the clue Mr. Rafferty left for us with his dying breath. I should like to try that telephone number. We must regard the number, in a way, as Mr. Rafferty’s last will and testament. He clearly wanted to convey something of the utmost importance about his investigation into the St. Aubin affair.”
We went back into the study and Holmes picked up the phone there. “Garfield twenty thirty,” he told the operator. After a long pause, Holmes hung up. “There was no answer. It is undoubtedly an after-hours answering service, and that may be significant.”
“How so?”
Holmes answered with a question of his own. “You have just such a service, do you not, Watson?”
“Yes, for emergencies when I am out of the office.”
“Precisely. Professional men—especially doctors—tend to use an answering service.”
“So do you think Shad was trying to reach a doctor?” Thomas asked.
“Possibly. Do you know the name of Mr. Rafferty’s physician?”
Thomas did and passed the name on to us.
Holmes said, “Good. Now all we need is a list of the answering service’s clients.”
“They wouldn’t give a list to me,” Thomas noted.
“Then I shall have to be very persuasive,” Holmes said with a smile. “I am rather good at that. Another idea has occurred to me. You mentioned Mr. Rafferty kept few valuables here in the apartment. Yet he must have had some items he wished to store in an absolutely safe place, am I correct?”
“Oh my God,” Thomas said, “how could I have forgotten? You’re right, Mr. Holmes. Shad had a safe-deposit box at the First National Bank.”
“Ah, I thought as much. Yet I have found no key for such a box anywhere in this apartment. Would Mr. Rafferty have kept it on his person?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure.”
“I fear then that the police have it and will try to open the box as soon as possible. However, that may require a court order. If the police do gain access to the box, I doubt we will ever know what they found.”
“That’s not true, Mr. Holmes,” Thomas said. “We can get there first. You see, I’m also signed in on the account and have a second key.”
“Mr. Thomas, you are a man of many wonders. We must go to the bank as soon as it opens.”
WE WERE AT THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK, located only two blocks from our hotel, at nine o’clock sharp on Monday morning. Thomas signed in with his key at the safety deposit vault and went with a guard to retrieve Rafferty’s box. Holmes and I then retired to a small private room to wait.
“What do you think we’ll find?” I asked Holmes, who was nervously pacing about the room, which was equipped with two chairs and a table.
“Most likely, we will find nothing of importance. But there is a chance—”
Before Holmes could finish his thought, Thomas arrived with the safe-deposit box. He set the metal box, which was quite long and deep, on the table and said, “You can do the honors, Mr. Holmes. The last time I opened it there wasn’t much inside. Just some legal documents, a few gold coins, those sorts of things.”
But when Holmes opened the box, a revelation awaited us. The coins and legal papers were there but so too was a file folder containing dozens of carbon copies of documents. Holmes thumbed through them with his usual facility, his excitement growing from one page to the next.
“Mr. Rafferty has bequeathed us a gift,” he finally announced. “These are his files from the St. Aubin case and they look to be quite thorough. The last entry is dated January eighteenth, three days before Mr. Rafferty was murdered. It is as if he had a premonition of his death and the possible destruction of his work, and so he made sure to keep copies of his notes in a safe place. I shall give these files my full attention when we return to the Ryan. Now, Mr. Thomas, I have one more request of you this morning. Will you show us the exact spot where Daniel St. Aubin’s body was found?”
“That’s easy enough. Just follow me.”
Thomas led us to an alley along the north side of the Ryan, which separated it from another large building. It was a bleak place, hemmed in by high brick walls, and it served as a conduit for the bitter winter winds. Thomas stopped about halfway down the alley and said, “It was right about here. Shad said St. Aubin was a bloody mess, half his face blown away.”
The alley was paved in rough cobblestones, which were blanketed in a mantle of ice and slush, and I struggled to keep my footing. After looking up and down the alley, Holmes said, “It is not hard to see why Mr. Rafferty suspected murder from the very beginning. This would be a most peculiar place to commit suicide. It is neither entirely private nor public. Better to leap off a prominent bridge if Mr. St. Aubin intended to make a statement. And if he wanted privacy in his final moment, this is hardly the ideal locale.”
