“Well, you might put it that way. You see, we’re interested in this sleeve-gun business. We can’t find out much about them. We thought perhaps you could tell us a little more.”
“Are you certain,” Terry asked, “that the murder was committed with a sleeve gun?”
By way of answer, Malloy took from his pocket a glass test tube, the end of which had been sealed with a strip of adhesive tape on which was written a date, number, and signature. Sealing wax had been affixed to the adhesive tape. Within the test tube, a small dart some five and a half inches long rattled against the glass as Malloy handed it over.
Terry studied it carefully.
“That,” he said, “is undoubtedly Chinese in workmanship. As nearly as I can tell, it’s a dart from a sleeve gun. I’ve never seen such a dart used for any other purpose.”
“That’s the gadget that did the job,” Malloy asserted. “It was a dead-centre shot. Struck him right in the heart. He went out like a light. I wanted to ask you a few questions about sleeve guns. How accurate are they?”
“At very short ranges they’re quite accurate. The gun can be fastened to the forearm if desired, then a downward pressure of the arm on a table top or other solid object releases the dart.”
“Deadly little things. Could a woman use one?”
“Certainly, if she wore long, loose sleeves.”
“Do you have a sleeve gun I can look at?”
“There’s one in that case behind you. You may inspect it if you wish.”
“Wonder if you’d mind if we borrowed it for a little while. We’d promise to return it in good condition.”
Terry approached the glass-covered case, pulled on the knob of the door, then stood motionless.
“What’s the matter?” Malloy asked.
Terry took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, surveyed the empty corner.
“A sleeve gun was here,” he said, “over in this corner of the shelf. It’s gone now.”
Malloy’s voice was rich with sympathy. “Well, ain’t that too bad!” he said, pushing forward. “Anything else gone?”
“No.”
“How about darts? Did you have some darts with it?”
“Yes, I had three... There are two left.”
Malloy’s big hand reached into the case and picked up the two darts. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, making sounds of audible sympathy.
“That sure is too bad,” he repeated, “and I know how hard it is to get one of these things, because we’ve been trying all day to locate one. What do you suppose could have happened to it?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Terry told him; “and if you’re intending to compare the two darts with the one in the test tube, there’s no need to stall. From what I can see they appear to be absolutely identical.”
“They do, don’t they!” Malloy exclaimed in apparent surprise, as though the idea had just occurred to him. He held the test tube in one hand, the two darts in the other. “Same length, same type of workmanship, same sort of metal point, apparently about the same weight. Tell me, Clane, if a man had a sleeve gun tied to his arm and missed the first shot, it would be pretty hard to reload and try again, wouldn’t it?”
“Virtually impossible,” Clane agreed.
“Therefore, a man only needs one shot. If that does the work, it’s plenty. If it doesn’t, a whole pocket full of darts wouldn’t help. What I’m getting at is, that shooting one of these things isn’t like using an automatic revolver, where it pays to carry an extra clip of cartridges.”
“It’s a one-shot weapon,” Clane admitted.
“So, if a man was going to commit a murder he would take only one dart. He wouldn’t have any need for the other two.”
“Quite correct,” Clane conceded, with just a trace of irritation in his voice. “And having committed the murder, if he owned the sleeve gun, he would then restore it to the place from which he had taken it.”
“Sure,” Malloy said, “sure he would. But he couldn’t restore the dart.”
“Naturally.”
“Therefore if he was a smart man he’d figure it would be better to have both the sleeve gun and one dart missing than to just have one dart missing.”
Malloy’s warm brown eyes were absolutely devoid of guile.
“You weren’t by any chance thinking, were you,” Clane asked, “that...”
Malloy interrupted, making those clucking noises with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Tkk, tkk... don’t give it a thought, Clane! Don’t give it a thought! We were just talking about what a smart man would do if he was committing a murder. But people like you and me don’t commit murders. It takes a person with a goofy streak in him to kill a man... Unless it’s a woman does the job. There’s no accounting for what a woman’ll do. Emotional you know. It’s sure too bad about your sleeve gun! You haven’t lent it to anyone?”
“No.”
“Then it must have been stolen.”
“That,” Clane said, “would seem a fair inference.”
“And by someone who’d have a chance to open the door of that glass case without being caught. Now, how many people have the run of your apartment, Clane? Not that I want to be sticking my nose into your business, I just want to get this thing straight. How many?”
“Very few. I haven’t been back from China long enough to make many new friends.”
“The Renton woman who paints?”
“She’s been here, yes.”
“Some Chinese girl, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
“Now don’t get high hat, Clane. That’s what the police are for, you know, to recover stolen property. Suppose you give me a description of this gun. Perhaps you could draw a sketch so we’d know more about what we had to hunt for.”
Clane picked up a pad of paper, took a pencil and started a rapid sketch.
“I described it in detail to the district attorney this morning, but this will give you a little better idea, seeing it in the form of a sketch. It’s a tube of bamboo with a powerful spring and rather a peculiar catch. As nearly as I can remember it, this is the way the catch looks.”
Malloy studied the sketch carefully, folded it, slipped it in his pocket, held the two darts in his hand for a moment and then said, “There ought to be some way of identifying these darts of yours so we don’t get ’em mixed up with the dart that was used in the murder. Would you mind writing your initials on the wood and then I’ll write my initials right after yours.”
Without a word, Terry initialed the small wooden shaft of each dart. Inspector Malloy put his own initials after Terry’s.
“Say,” Malloy remarked, after he had slipped the two darts into an envelope which he took from his pocket, “how about the Chink here... you know, your servant? Would he perhaps have borrowed that sleeve gun?”
“Not a chance. I’d trust Yat Toy with my life.”
“Sure, sure,” Malloy agreed; “but would you trust him with someone else’s life, someone perhaps who was planning to do you some harm?”
“But Mandra wasn’t planning to do me any harm.”
“Mandra was a funny one,” Malloy said meditatively. “I’ve known him ever since he got his start in the bail-bond business. That’s going on to twenty years. You couldn’t say just what he was planning. He was a queer one. Of course, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I will say this: there’s lots of people could have had a motive for murdering Jacob Mandra. That man was clever. He knew people’s weakness. You might learn a lot about human nature by figuring people’s good points, Clane; Mandra learned what he knew by figuring people’s bad points; and I don’t know but what Mandra knew more than you or me, at that. You see, people have more weak points than good points. A man ain’t as good as his strongest point. He’s as bad as his weakest point. Well, I’ll be moving on. Sorry to have bothered you.”