“What do you mean? She didn’t say a single word to him!”
“Words are not the only means of communication.”
“You’re thinking of some sort of code?”
“I suppose it could be called a code.” Basil stepped over to the piano. Slowly he played seven notes. “Do you recognize those notes?”
Dawes looked blank, but the young highway policeman gazed at Basil with awe. “Well, I’ll be damned! Key of C natural. It would have to be. You must have perfect pitch, too.”
“No, I was watching her hands, as you were watching mine just now.”
“What are you two talking about?” demanded Dawes.
“These are the seven notes Miss Shiel struck on the piano: A B E D E A D. Abe dead.”
“I hate you!” Moira screamed at Basil. “What business is it of yours? Why didn’t you leave it alone?”
“It’s all right, Moira,” said Max gently. “I might as well give myself up — I haven’t a chance without Dad to alibi me. The police will dig and dig until they trace the gun back to me.”
“Then... you did do it?” Moira’s voice was now a whisper.
“Yes, I killed Katie. For you as much as for the money. Moira, I love you so much...”
“Why the key of C natural?” Dawes asked Basil, later that evening.
“The enharmonic factor. On the keyboard, B sharp is also C natural, C flat is also B natural, E sharp is also F natural and F flat is also E natural. You can’t tell which note of these pairs is indicated unless the notes are written and the key indicated. C natural is the one exception — the one key that has no sharps or flats.
“Max Weber was quick to realize that if Moira’s playing was a message in code, it would have to be in the key of C natural — otherwise, he would have no way of identifying the notes — that is, the letters. Because he had perfect pitch, not just relative pitch, he was able to do what few people can do — identify a single note, or a small group of notes, played alone.
“Moira took advantage of Max’s gift on the spur of the moment. She was quick, but he was even quicker. They were quite a team, justly famous for picking up each other’s cues at an instant’s notice... I hope you’re not going to charge her as accessory?”
“I should,” said Dawes slowly. “But I won’t. Max’s punishment will be punishment enough for her... But I’m glad you were here. Dr. Willing — she fooled me completely.”
An Exercise in Insurance
by James Holding
When three masked men walked into the bank with sawed-off shotguns that afternoon and calmly began to clean out the tellers’ cash drawers, I wasn’t even nervous. I was sure they weren’t going to get away with it. I was perfectly certain that five straight-shooting policemen, strategically placed, would be waiting for the robbers outside the bank door when they emerged.
That’s the way it would have happened, too, if it hadn’t been for Miss Coe, Robbsville’s leading milliner.
As proprietress and sole employee of a hat shop, just around the corner from the bank and felicitously called Miss Coe’s Chapeux, Miss Coe fabricated fetching hats for many of the town’s discriminating ladies. She was an excellent designer, whose products exhibited a fashionable flare, faintly French, that more than justified her use of the French word in her shop name.
Miss Coe was middle-aged, sweet, pretty, methodical, and utterly reliable. Indeed, her dependability was often the subject of admiring comment from local ladies who had become somewhat disillusioned by the unreliability of other tradesmen. “You can always count on Miss Coe,” they frequently told each other. “If she says she’ll have the hat ready on Tuesday at eleven, she’ll have it ready. She’ll be putting in the last stitch as you come in the door.” I had even heard remarks of this kind at my own dinner table, since my wife was one of Miss Coe’s steady customers.
But perhaps you are wondering what Miss Coe, a milliner — reliable and methodical as she undoubtedly was — could possibly have to do with the robbery of our bank?
Well, you may remember that some years ago, several of the companies that insured banks against robbery agreed to reduce the premium rates on such insurance if the insured bank was willing to conform to a certain security arrangement.
This meant, simply, that to win the lower insurance rate, a bank must maintain a robbery alarm system somewhere outside the bank itself; that in the event of a robbery, a warning bell or buzzer must sound elsewhere so that police could be instantly alerted without interference, and arrive on the scene in time to prevent the robbery and even, hopefully, to capture the bandits in the act.
In those days of rather primitive electrical wiring, the insurance companies did not insist that, to meet this security requirement, the outside alarm be necessarily installed in the police station itself. Any other location where the ringing of the alarm would unfailingly initiate instant action would serve as well.
The potential savings on insurance premiums made possible in this way were quite substantial. Our bank accordingly decided to take advantage of them. As Cashier, I was entrusted with the job of selecting a suitable outside alarm site, preferably somewhere near the bank, since the installation charges would thus be minimal.
After some thought, and with the memory of my wife’s recent words to a bridge partner, “You’ll find Miss Coe utterly dependable,” fresh in mind, I went around to see the milliner on my lunch hour one day.
After introducing myself, I explained to her that the bank intended to install an alarm buzzer somewhere in the neighborhood. I explained the alarm’s purpose. Then I went on diplomatically, “Miss Coe, I have never heard you referred to among the ladies of my acquaintance without some warm testimonial to your complete reliability, to your calm, methodical turn of mind.”
“How nice,” she murmured, pleased. “I do try to be precise and methodical about things, it’s true. I find life less complicated that way.”
“Yes. And that’s exactly why I am going to ask you to permit us to install our alarm buzzer in your shop.”
“Here?”
“Right here. You are always in your shop during banking hours, are you not?”
“Of course. I carry my lunch, so I’m not even away at lunch time.”
“Good. With your penchant for doing exactly what is needed at exactly the right time, I am certain that our alarm buzzer, although placing a new responsibility on your shoulders in the unlikely event of a bank robbery, will in no way discommode or harm you. And I might add that the bank will naturally expect to pay you a small stipend for your cooperation,”
She flushed with pleasure. “What would I have to do?” she asked.
“If the alarm buzzer should ever ring, you merely go at once to your telephone there. Miss Coe...,” I indicated her telephone on a counter at the back of the shop, “... and place an emergency call to the police, giving them a prearranged signal. That is all. Your responsibility then ceases. You see, it’s very simple.”
“I’m sure I could do that, if that’s all there is to it,” Miss Coe said, glancing at her wall clock a little guiltily, as though she feared she were three stitches late on a hat promised a customer one minute from then. “And I won’t say that a bit of extra income won’t be more than welcome.”
By the end of the week the buzzer was installed in her shop. The system was thoroughly tested, and it worked perfectly. On our first “dry run”, the squad of police arrived at the bank just four minutes from the time they received their telephone call from Miss Coe. The insurance people, satisfied with their inspection of the system and my recommendation of Miss Coe, granted us the lower insurance rate forthwith.