Merlini watched him speculatively. “But. Inspector,” he said slowly. “How are you going to crack Brooke’s alibi for the shooting and the fire? Your own man had him under observation.”
“Maybe you can do it?”
“I’d hate to try.”
“Then don’t. Why do you keep harping on that fire?”
“For the simple reason that our murderer was the one who pulled that string.”
“Okay.” Gavigan scowled. “Sit down and watch the rest of the act. Arnold Skelton; you’re under arrest!”
Arnold nodded wearily.
“So you still think — All right. Gail, would you get my lawyer on the phone, please.”
“You stay where you are. Doctor. Malloy—”
“Skip the handcuffs, Inspector. That won’t be necessary.”
I heard Malloy mutter, “Afraid we’ll have to. We’re fresh out.”
Merlini started to get up again. But Gavigan growled, “Sit down, you make me nervous. I don’t know how Arnold set the fire. I’m arresting him for moving a body, before the medical examiner saw it, with intent to deceive. I can make an accessory-after-the-fact charge stick without half trying.”
Gavigan wasn’t through yet. He turned to Madame Rappourt. “And you’re under arrest, too, you and your brother. Charge: Conspiracy to defraud, accessory before and after the fact in the matter of moving Floyd’s body, and forging. If I think of anything else, you’ll hear about it. Malloy, take them into headquarters and put them on ice.”
Captain Malloy went into action with a will.
Lamb, his head swathed in bandages, went out between Brady and Quinn. Rappourt, Mr. X., Brooke, and Arnold followed, with Malloy, Grimm, and Muller riding herd.
When they had gone, Merlini said quietly, “Inspector. What about Ross? He was carrying a gun last night without a permit. The Sullivan law, you know.”
Gavigan sat down, took a pipe from his pocket, and began to fill it. He relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived at dawn. “I’ve a blanked good notion to book you for resisting an officer in the performance of his duties.”
“But, Great Scott! Don’t you want to know who killed Linda and Floyd? I notice you didn’t arrest any of them for murder, except Lamb; and those weren’t the right murders, or were they?”
“No. But I can’t go wrong. One of them did it. There won’t be any more pitched battles around here, like tonight. I can take time out now to sit down and think.”
“Ross,” Merlini said, “he doesn’t even ask to hear my solution. He doesn’t think that I—”
“I doubt it,” Gavigan said; “but I’ll listen. Only, I warn you, if you’ve cooked up something with mirrors and trap doors and disguised identities and — and if you bring on any more — bah — acrobats, I’ll — All right. Who set the fire? Who killed Linda, Floyd, and Watrous?”
Merlini’s half dollar appeared at his finger tips and then was gone again. “Lamb killed Watrous, but he didn’t put the poison in Rappourt’s capsule, and he didn’t type that diving chart. That doesn’t sound like the Boss does it?”
“No. It’s not quite his style, I’ll admit that.”
“Besides, you remember that it was Lamb who told us he saw Rappourt pass the capsule to Linda. The murderer would certainly never have offered that piece of information. And if he had seen it happen, he’d have tried to prevent it. Lamb is definitely out.”
“Well, get on with it. Rappourt, Arnold, Brooke. Which one of them did it?”
Merlini simply said, “No. I can eliminate them all.”
I should have expected that from him, but I hadn’t. Suddenly, the tension in that room stretched and vibrated like a taut steel wire.
Together, Inspector Gavigan, Burt, and myself turned and stared at the only other people left in the room.
Sigrid Verrill looked at Merlini with wide eyes, one hand at her throat. Dr. William Gail got slowly to his feet.
Chapter Twenty-One:
HOCUS-POCUS
Dr. Gail said nothing, but I could see that a lot of fast thinking was going on behind those shrewd gray eyes.
Sigrid cried, “Merlini! You can’t—”
Gavigan said, “You two were lying about being in the library together! One of you went out and fired at Rappourt. Dr. Gail, I—”
And Merlini said quickly, “I warn you, Inspector, if you make any further arrests without knowing, as I don’t think you do, exactly how that fire was set, why it was set, and who knew enough to have a reason for setting it, you’ll be shooting in the dark. Unless—”
“So. You don’t think it was Gail.” The Inspector’s blue eyes were disillusioned and coldly suspicious.
“Unless,” Merlini insisted, “you can explain the phantom bullet that magically penetrates steel and concrete, you may very well make a mistake — and even if you shouldn’t, you won’t have a case, unless you can explain the phantom bullet that—”
“Stop imitating a cracked phonograph record,” Gavigan snarled. “Do you have a case?”
“I do. Will you sit down and relax?”
Gavigan roared, “No!”
Merlini spoke to Gail and the girl. “If this over-zealous police officer arrests either of you before I’m quite finished with what I have to say — and if he snaps his handcuffs on the wrong person, I’ll contribute the services of my lawyer free of charge to aid in a thundering big suit for false arrest. I will have attention!”
The Inspector scowled mightily, sat down, and took a shiny blue-steel automatic from his pocket. He didn’t point it at anyone, but it was obvious that when the time came only the smallest twist of the wrist was going to be necessary.
“I arrested those others,” he grumbled, “so there’d be no more attempts at murder, and now you spring this! You want to sit there and show off. Well, talk, dammit! But if anyone in this room makes one single funny motion, something sudden and unpleasant is going to happen!”
Merlini, seated in the center of the large davenport, leaned back, his long legs outstretched. He appeared as calm and unwary as a well-fed sleeping cat. Yet he was about to raise the curtain on some subtle feat of mental hocus-pocus, some “now you see it — now you don’t” display of cerebral sleight-of-hand.
“Before anything unpleasant does happen,” he suggested quietly, “drinks all around might lessen the tension in this room. I’ll have straight Italian vermouth, Burt. I’m going to need it before this is over. Miss Verrill?”
The Doctor had an arm around her shoulder. She pressed his hand once, then moved to a chair, and sat down. “I’ll — Scotch please and — and not too much soda.”
“Doctor?”
“Nothing, thanks. I want to hear this solution. I don’t think I’m going to like it.”
“Inspector?”
“Merlini, for the last time, if you don’t—”
“All right. Stop nagging at me. I never saw a less receptive audience. However — suppose we begin at the beginning.” He looked lazily at the ceiling. “The difficulty in this case has arisen largely because our criminal committed — er — his or her — there’s that pronoun difficulty again. Inspector, may I, for the sake of brevity, use the masculine without your initiating any of those unpleasant actions?”