“It’s the truth. I knew that envelope was in his desk with the Murchinson file that Sutter had flown down here to get. I knew Sutter was prepared to pay twenty-five thousand in cash for those papers. So I grabbed the envelope quick and just walked out and pulled the door shut behind me. I knew Ralph had killed him, of course, and why. And I was afraid of what Ralph might do to Dorothy after killing Ames. Or what she might tell him if he came back to her and admitted he had killed Ames. Having killed once on her account, the damned fool might well come after me if she broke down and admitted to him that he’d killed the wrong man. I had to get to her before he did and shut her up, don’t you see?”
Shayne said slowly, “I’m beginning to see… a little. Do you mean it was you she was having an affair with… not Ames?”
“Of course. Do you think she’d look at a popinjay like that? The funny thing was, Ames understood the situation and rather enjoyed it. He knew Ralph suspected him, and I think he actually egged Ralph on to believe it. It pleased his goddamned ego to have Ralph think that a beautiful woman like Dorothy was in love with him.”
“So you went straight to the Larson apartment after you left Ames dead in his study and walked out with the Murchinson file?”
“Yes. I wanted to get the papers out of the house before Wesley’s death was discovered so I could make a deal with Sutter later, and I didn’t know what Ralph might do after killing Ames. You can imagine how I felt until I got to Dorothy.” Victor Conroy drew in a deep breath at the memory and released it slowly, shaking his head.
“I didn’t know whether I’d find Ralph there, or what. But Dorothy was alone, and practically hysterical. She clung to me and babbled that Ralph was going to kill Ames and I should stop him, and I didn’t realize what she was talking about and I told her he already had killed him. Then she went all to pieces and began to blame me for everything. I couldn’t leave her alone in that state. I knew she needed time to get to her senses before she talked to anybody. And I needed time to collect from Sutter. With that amount of cash in my pocket I meant to simply disappear and take Dorothy with me. First she agreed to go with me and started to pack a bag, and then she suddenly changed her mind and got martyr-like and swore she was going to tell the whole world the truth and share Ralph’s guilt with him. I couldn’t let it be like that. Don’t you see I couldn’t? I knew she’d come to her senses later on if she had a chance to think about it calmly. So we wrestled a little and I… well, I hit her,” Conroy confessed shamefacedly. “I didn’t mean to but her nose bled dreadfully and she was crying and taking on and we mopped it up in the bathroom and then she sort of collapsed and came with me. I gave her a drink with two of her sleeping powders in it and she didn’t notice, and she came here where I rented this room, and by the time I got her in here she was practically asleep on her feet. You can see that’s all that’s the matter with her.” Conroy gestured toward the bed, sounding run down now, and exhausted. “She’ll tell you the same thing when she wakes up. I didn’t hurt her. I was in love with her. All I wanted was time enough to make a deal with Sutter and get travelling money. If I’d known at the time that Ralph was already under arrest for shooting Wesley, I wouldn’t have worried about her and about getting her away from there. But I didn’t know that until I left her here and went back to the house.”
“What did you think when you got there and found out what had happened?”
“I didn’t know what to think. I was so sure Ralph had stabbed him. No man in his right mind would come back and openly shoot a dead man. And then I thought maybe he wasn’t in his right mind. That he’d gone nuts and didn’t know what he was doing the second time.”
“What makes you so sure Ralph stabbed him?”
“But he must have. Who else was there? He was the only one who’d been in the study.”
“Did you pull the paper-knife out of Ames… and bolt the back door?” Shayne asked evenly.
“I didn’t touch anything. I didn’t see any paper-knife. He was just leaning back in his chair grinning sort of. With blood on the front of him.”
“Didn’t you notice that the back door was bolted on the inside?” demanded Shayne.
“No. It couldn’t have been. Ralph went out that way.” Victor Conroy looked at him aghast.
“It was bolted on the inside half an hour later when Ralph ran in the front door of the study and shot him.”
“I don’t see how… you’re making that up to trick me. I didn’t kill Wesley Ames.”
“Ralph Larson couldn’t possibly have done it and left that door bolted behind him,” Shayne told him coldly. “That leaves somebody inside the house after Ralph left. Five of you altogether, counting the houseman. You’re the one who had most to gain. You knew Sutter had twenty-five grand he was prepared to hand over for the Murchinson file. You admit you were in the room and stole the file. We’ve got you dead to rights on that. What did you do with the knife, Conroy?”
“I didn’t kill him,” cried out Conroy, beating his fist on his knee in frustration and anger. “I didn’t see any knife. I grabbed the papers on the spur of the moment. They weren’t any good to any one else. Damn it! If Ralph Larson didn’t kill him, take a look at some of the others in the house. Ask Mark Ames why he was there tonight. I happen to know it was to demand that Wesley give Helena a divorce. Ask her. God knows she had plenty of motive to kill the son-of-a-bitch. How about that New York lawyer? He was plenty sore and half drunk. He had plenty of chance to slip in and do it. And I wouldn’t put it past Alfred either. God, the way Wesley treated that man like dirt. A knife is a Spick’s weapon. Any of the others had a motive and opportunity.” He was practically shouting as he completed his diatribe, and the drugged woman on the bed stirred and muttered something and turned on her side.
Shayne got up to go over to her, telling Conroy as he did so, “But you’re the one we can place in the death room just about the time it happened.” He leaned over the bed and placed a firm hand on Dorothy Larson’s shoulder and shook her gently.
“Better try to wake up,” he said soothingly. “It’s all right. Everything’s okay. Wake up and I’ll take you home.”
She turned slowly to open her eyes and stare up into his face, blankly and uncomprehendingly at first, and then with troubled recognition.
“You’re… the detective,” she mumbled. “Ralph? What’s happened to Ralph?” Then she sat up suddenly and stared with distended eyes at Conroy who was approaching the bed hesitantly. “Victor said he killed Wesley,” she cried out. “Did he? Did Ralph do that?”
Shayne said heavily, “Right now, Mrs. Larson, your husband is in jail charged with shooting Wesley Ames to death. But I think that charge is going to be withdrawn before long. Just lie back and relax. After I make a telephone call you can tell me exactly what happened in your apartment tonight.”
He lifted the telephone from the bedside stand and gave the number for police headquarters, and put his hand over the mouthpiece and told Conroy coldly. “Stay away from her. Sit down and keep your mouth shut.”
He lifted his hand and spoke into the telephone, “Mike Shayne speaking. I’m at number twenty-five in the Biscay Rest Motel on Biscayne Boulevard and I’ve got a suspect here in the Ames killing. Have a car stop by to pick him up. And if you can get hold of Sergeant Griggs, tell him he can stop looking for Mrs. Larson. I’ve got her, too.”
He hung up and looked down compassionately at Dorothy Larson who had rolled over and buried her face in her hands and was weeping violently. For her husband… or for her lover, he wondered. It didn’t seem to much matter. Nothing was going to be the same for her again.
15
This time there was evidently a car cruising very near-by because it was not more than three minutes before one pulled into the courtyard silently with a flashing red light and eased up behind the taxi parked in front of No. 25.