Suddenly I pulled myself from my chair and took a long running jump — plunging toward him! The man was mad. He actually was drinking! I swung and smashed at the glass with my fists. It flew from his hand and splintered on the floor. The tension in the room snapped with the tinkling glass — and then was taut again!
“Ross Harte!” Gavigan thundered. “Put your hands up!”
The ugly black hole of his gun was aimed full at me.
But I turned and pointed.
“Burt!” I said, breathing hard, “He knew we were coming to the haunted house! He knew Ira was a phony. He, if anyone, could shinny down a tree in two seconds!”
Gavigan wheeled on him, his jaw loose. “Ross,” he said thickly, “I hope to hell you’re wrong because if there was cyanide in that glass, Merlini hasn’t the ghost of a chance!”
On the davenport, Merlini suddenly doubled up with laughter!
“Inspector,” he said, between spasms. “Please put that gun away. Burt hasn’t killed anyone. And, to prevent any ill-considered shooting, I’d better tell you that Miss Verrill is also innocent. Likewise Dr. Gail. The Hendersons are innocent. And I didn’t do it — honest injun, cross my heart. Rappourt, Brooke, Arnold, Lamb, Svoboda, Malloy, Grimm, Brady, Muller, Leach, Quinn, Carter, Hunter, Mr. Novak, Dr. Hesse — they’re all guiltless. And yourself, Inspector. You didn’t do it. Did I miss anyone?”
Burt said, “I’ll get you for this, Ross Harte.” He quickly poured himself another drink.
“Yes,” I said glumly. “You missed Colonel Watrous.”
“Well,” Merlini replied, suddenly quiet, “I couldn’t very well include him, could I?”
For a moment I simply looked at him. Then I went after another drink, a tall undiluted one.
Gavigan said, “Watrous! So that’s why Grimm saw no one come up on to the sun deck. The Colonel simply leaned out his window, socked Grimm, and then fired at Rappourt from the sun deck! But the second shot — no, wait, you’re making that bullet curve even more!”
“No.” Merlini shook his head. “It wasn’t the bullet that curved, it was the misdirection. Watrous fired once and immediately threw the gun over the rail. It exploded when it landed. He threw it into the light from the French windows so we’d be sure to see him pick it up. He then moved his window noisily, shouted ‘There he goes!’, ran down, retrieved the gun, and fired into the woods. You yourself wondered why he was so foolhardy about that. And I wondered why he had to stand smack in the light to fire his shots. He did that so we could see what he was doing and where he was shooting — the misdirection. He didn’t think there was anyone out there to fire back at him! His tree story was full of holes because it was imaginary. At the last, his device of committing his crimes among a cast of criminals, literally backfired when Lamb, making his escape, thought he’d been discovered and fired back.”
“Yeah,” Gavigan said disgustedly. “You’ve been laboring the point that this murderer wasn’t the type to bash in people’s heads or shoot them. Long-distance methods-poison and a typewriter! Bah! Who’s guilty of misdirection now?”
“He ran amok, Inspector; and I’m afraid I’ll have to admit driving him to it and underestimating his resourcefulness. That was a grave error. He was listening at his detector, as I knew he would, to our questioning of Rappourt. I’d hoped that he had a dose of cyanide left, and would use it. He—”
Gavigan broke in. His voice was deadly serious. “Merlini, you read too many detective stories. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, so help me, I’ll book you for it. You might be interested to know that Section 2304 of the Penal Law of the State of New York reads: ‘A person who willfully in any manner, advises, encourages, abets, or assists another person in taking the latter’s life, is guilty of manslaughter in the first degree.”
Merlini blinked at him. “Anyway it didn’t come off. Watrous either had no cyanide left or else discovered he could screw himself up to knocking out Grimm and shooting at Rappourt sooner than he could face suicide.”
“Ignorance,” Gavigan said, “is no excuse. And Section 2305 says that an attempt at abetting and advising suicide is a felony. Not only that, dammit, but his shooting at Rappourt and his knocking out Grimm make you an accessory before the fact to attempted homicide and assault!”
“I’m sorry,” Merlini said contritely. “But I did place guards at both window and door, you know.”
“So that’s it!” I exclaimed, ringing the bell with more success this time. “That’s how he knew Ira was a phony and Floyd was going to dive! He heard the plotters with his little eavesdropping machine.”
“Yes. The murderer who knew too much. The fact that those shots came at such a precisely opportune moment should have reminded you that, of all our suspects, only Watrous was close enough and he alone had the means to overhear what was taking place in that closely guarded room. But for that detector there might have been no murders at all! Watrous might not have discovered until too late that he even had a motive for killing Rappourt and Floyd!”
Merlini went to the library door, reached inside and came back, carrying the Colonel’s voice detector. He placed it on the table and lifted the lid.
“I investigated Watrous’s room while you were chasing after Lamb.” He held up several phonograph records. “I found these under the paper linings of his dresser drawers. I didn’t expect so much. It had never occurred to me that he wouldn’t have destroyed the records of the conversations he overheard. Knowing that, I’d not have scheduled the Rappourt inquisition scene at all. All the evidence we need is right here. You’ll hear Floyd himself speaking from beyond the grave — a real spirit message this time — discussing with Rappourt the details I’ve just giver you of the swindle; and you’ll hear Brooke and Rappourt planning to double-cross Floyd.” Merlini placed one of the records on the turntable.
Gavigan asked, “Did you say one of his motives was to smash the con-game?”
“Yes. He was innocently enmeshed in it. They were playing him for a sucker. Rappourt was using him as her front, and after the pay-off, when no one would ever believe he hadn’t had his cut — he’d be the goat. He didn’t like that at all. That was Rappourt’s big mistake.”
“But why, with this record evidence, if it’s what you say, didn’t Watrous simply out with it to Linda or Lamb? He didn’t need to murder Rappourt and Floyd.”
“It wasn’t as simple as that. Rappourt, on these disks, admits she’s a fraud. And Watrous had, at all costs, to smash the con-game without letting that cat out. The very last thing he wanted was to have Rappourt exposed. He killed her to prevent it. Dead, her reputation as a medium and his as a psychical authority were safe.”
“But he asked you to try and catch her out.”
“I know. That was a false note right from the beginning. You and Harte both commented on it, and wouldn’t believe it at first. You were right. He never intended that I’d get a chance to expose her. He’d intended that she would die at the start of the séance, before Ross and I got into it.”
“And he asked you out to witness his murder? I won’t believe it. Why would he want you smack on the scene when she kicked in?”