Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Dead Deliveryman
By Galaxy1001D
Based off the story 'Murder is Corny' by Rex Stout
Additional material by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Rex Stout
Chapter Seven: Pass the Buck
"Now then," my friend began as our guests composed themselves. "Since you came here to oblige Miss McLeod, you should know Doctor Watson's and my position regarding her. She is not our client; we are under no commitment to her; we are acting solely in our own interest. But as it now stands we are satisfied that she didn't kill Kenneth Faber."
"How did you know that Miss McLeod asked us to come here?" Heydt asked. "We haven't told you yet!"
"Please Mister Heydt, we're not dunderheads," Holmes chided. "The instigator of your mission is fairly obvious."
"Your own interest?" Jay interjected. "What's your interest?"
"We don't know how forthcoming Miss McLeod has been with you, any or all of you, or how devious," Holmes replied circumspectly. "I will say only that, because of statements made to the police by Miss McLeod, Doctor Watson is under heavy suspicion, and that because she knew the suspicion was unfounded she decided to ask you gentlemen to come to see us in order to coerce my friend into changing his story. But Doctor Watson and I have a different agenda. To lift the suspicion from Doctor Watson we must find out where it belongs, and for that we need your help."
"Egad," Heydt ejaculated. "I don't know where it belongs."
The other two looked at him, and he looked back. Evidently each of them had developed notions about the other two, but if one of them had killed Faber, his suspicions would be merely a façade.
"Quite possibly," Holmes conceded, "none of you knows. But it is not mere conjecture that one of you has good reason to know. All of you knew he would be there that day at that hour, and you could have gone there at some previous time to reconnoiter. All of you had an adequate motive - adequate, at least, for the one it moved: Mister Faber had either debased or grossly slandered the woman you wanted to marry. All of you had some special significance in his private thoughts or plans; your names were in his notebook, with checkmarks. You are not targets chosen at random for want of better ones; you are plainly marked by circumstances. Do you dispute that?"
"Not at all, Mister Holmes," Maslow replied.
Heydt shook his head.
"It's no news that we're targets," Jay admitted. "Go on from there."
Holmes nodded. "That's the rub. I presume the police have questioned you, but I doubt if they have been importunate; they have been set at Doctor Watson by Miss McLeod. I don't know - "
"Aha! So that's your interest," Jay interrupted, "to get Doctor Watson's head out of the noose."
"Certainly," my friend admitted. "I said so quite plainly. I - "
"He's known Miss McLeod longer than we have," Maslow said. "Like I said he's her hero. I asked her once why she didn't marry him if he was such a prize, and she said he hadn't asked her. Now you say she has set the police on him. Not to be a sticky wicket m'dear fella, but I don't believe it. If they're on him they must have a bloody good reason. And while I hope he does get the authorities off his back, I'm not keen to have them on mine. No offense old fellow but I'm no hero."
"Might I inquire what she said to them?" Jay asked.
Holmes shook his head. "As I said, I'm reserving what Miss McLeod has told the authorities. She may tell you if you ask her. As for you gentlemen, I don't know how curious the police have been about you. Have they tried seriously to find someone who saw one of you in that neighborhood Tuesday afternoon? Of course they have asked you where you were that afternoon, that's mere routine, but have they properly checked your accounts? Are you under surveillance? I doubt it; I invite you to eliminate yourselves from consideration if you can. The man who killed Kenneth Faber was in that alley, concealed under that platform, shortly after five o'clock yesterday afternoon. Mister Heydt. Can you furnish incontestable evidence that you weren't there?"
Heydt cleared his throat. "Incontestable? Oh, dash it all, that's a tall order."
"Mister Jay?"
"Incontestable, no of course I can't." Jay leaned forward, his chin out. "I came here because Miss McLeod asked me to, but if I understand what you're after I might as well go. You intend to find out who killed Faber and expose him. To prove it wasn't John Watson. Is that it?"
"Yes."
"Then you'll have to excuse me," Jay shook his head. "I don't want Watson to swing, but neither do I want anyone else to. Not even Max Maslow."
"Awfully decent of you, old fellow," Maslow snorted.
Holmes turned to him. "You, sir. Can you eliminate yourself?"
"Not by proving I wasn't there." Maslow shrugged. "I didn't do it, and I don't wish to incriminate the cheeky devil who did. He deserves a commendation to my way of thinking."
Holmes turned. "Mister Heydt. The others have made it clear that if they have information that would help to expose the murderer they won't divulge it. How about you?"
Heydt cleared his throat. "I'm glad I don't have to answer that," he said. "I don't have to answer it because I have no information that would help. I know John Watson and consider him a friend. If he's really in a pickle I want to help if I can. You say Miss McLeod has said something to the police that set them on him, but you won't tell us what she said."
"Ask her," Holmes shrugged. "You can give me no information whatever?"
"No."
"Well thanks a million Heydt!" I growled, losing my temper. "Holmes can't you get them to be more cooperative?"
"Very well old boy, but the obvious method is a bit crass," my friend relied before addressing the trio before us. "Assuming that one of you killed that man, I doubt if I can get at him from the front; I must go around. But I may have given you a false impression, and if so I wish to correct it. I said that to lift the suspicion from Doctor Watson we must find out where it belongs, but that isn't vital, for we have an alternative. We can merely shift the suspicion to Miss McLeod. That will be simple, and it will relieve Doctor Watson of further annoyance. We'll discuss it after you leave, and decide. You gentlemen may view the matter differently when Miss McLeod is in custody, charged with murder, without bail, but that is your - "
"You're a bloody liar," Peter Jay ejaculated.
"Amazing," Max Maslow sneered. "Where did you get your reputation? What do you expect us to do, kick and scream or go down on our knees?"
"Of course you don't mean it," Carl Heydt protested. He glanced at me. "Watson you'd never sink… You said you're satisfied that she didn't kill him!"
Holmes nodded. "I wouldn't allow her to be convicted. She might not even go to trial. It will be an ordeal for her, but it will also be a lesson; her implication of Doctor Watson may not have been willful, but it was inexcusable." His eyes went to Maslow. "You have mentioned my reputation. I made it and I don't risk it rashly. If tomorrow you learn that Miss McLeod has been arrested and is inaccessible, you may - "
"'If,'" Maslow challenged.
"Yes," Holmes drawled. "It is contingent not on our power but on our preference. I am inviting you gentlemen to have a voice in our decision. You have told me nothing whatever, but I do not believe that you have nothing whatever to tell. Do you want to talk now, to me, or later, to the police, when the lovely Miss McCloud is in custody?"
"You're bluffing old boy," Maslow said. "I call it." He got up and headed down the stairs. Jay followed soon after but Heydt just stood there.
"Look, Watson," he said. "You've got to do something."
"I agree," I said. "What, for example?"
"I don't know. But about Susan - my God, he doesn't mean it, does he?"
"Your guess is as good as mine old fellow," I retorted.
"What did Susan tell the police about you?"
"Please Heydt, I haven't had a wink of sleep and I'm too tired to bandy words with you," I sighed testily. "If you don't mind?"
"As you wish old man," Heydt said warily. "Just think about it."
After he left I turned to my friend. "So you thought it might be useful," I said, resuming our conversation about the twelve pages I typed for him as if our guests had never arrived.
"Hm?" Holmes blinked. "Oh yes. Have you finished it?"
"Yes. Twelve pages."
"May I see it?"
I replied with an exhausted snort and handed him the fruits of my labors, carbons and all. He inspected the heading and the first page, flipped through the sheets, took a look at the end, dropped it on my desk as I collapsed on the sofa and closed my eyes.
"There will be two," he said as he pulled out a piece of foolscap and a pen, "one for you and one for me. First mine. Heading in caps, affidavit by Sherlock Holmes. We'll have Mister Downy help us with the details," he murmured as he scribbled away. "The text: I hereby depose that the twelve foregoing typewritten pages attached hereto, comma, each page initialed by me, comma, are a full and accurate record of a conversation that took place in my lodgings on October third, eighteen eighty-seven, by Susan McLeod, comma, John Watson, comma, and myself, semicolon; that nothing of consequence has been omitted or added in this typewritten record, semicolon; and that the conversation was wholly impromptu, comma, with no prior preparation or arrangement. A space for my signature, and below, the conventional formula for notarizing. The one for you, on the same sheet if there is room, will be the same with the appropriate changes."
I opened my eyes. "All right, it wasn't just to keep me off your back. But hang on now, Holmes. We both know she didn't kill him. She came here and opened the bag to me. I'm her hero. She as good as told Maslow that she'd marry me if I asked her. Maybe she could learn how to dance if she tried hard, though I admit that's doubtful. You said you wouldn't let her be convicted, but that's not good enough. Before I sign that affidavit I need to know that you won't throw her to the wolves."
"There are times when your chivalrous sentimental streak can be quite a nuisance," Holmes scolded.
"Oh I agree old boy," I said, "It's a bloody nuisance. It's entirely her fault, she dragged me in without even telling me, and if a girl pushes a man in a hole he has a right to wiggle out, but you must remember that I am now a hero. Heroes don't wiggle. Will you say that it will be our joint affair to make sure that she doesn't go to trial?"
"I wouldn't say that I will make sure of anything whatever," he said coldly. Looking back, I'm wondering if our written testimony was necessary or if he just wanted a way to punish Susan McLeod for subjecting me to my predicament.
"Correction," I sighed. "That you will be concerned?"
He took air in, all the way, through his nose, and let it out through his mouth. "Oh very well, old cock. I'll be concerned." He glanced at the twelve pages on my desk before his piercing gray eyes focused on me. "For heaven's sake Watson, you've had no sleep for forty hours. Go to bed."
"I thought you said that sleep was a waste of time," I protested weakly.
"It is," Holmes nodded, "for me. Especially since my best friend in the entire world is suspected of a crime he didn't commit. Don't worry about a thing my dear Watson. I'll contact Mister Downy and we can have this ready for the court when you get up."
It was quite a compliment so I did as he bade without protest. In the morning Bob Downy joined us just after breakfast to prepare our written testimony. Holmes then called for silence and proceeded to smoke. I pretended to read, but I must have watched him for almost an hour before the fumes made me open the window. Outside I saw a Black Maria pull up and a familiar ferret like man hop out and head to the door to our building.
"Lestrade," I warned my friend. "Should I hop out the window or hide in the cellar?"
"Confound his industrious nature," Homes grumbled. "The man is relentless. Very well. We'll see."
Soon Inspector Lestrade was up the stairs and in our rooms. "I have in my hand a warrant for Doctor Watson's arrest," he declared as he held up a sheet of paper like it was a vital link to the location of a pharaoh's tomb, "and this time he'd stay."
I stood. "It's an honor Inspector," I said. "Anyone can be arrested by a common bobby. It takes someone like me to be pinched by an inspector, and twice in one week."
His eyes stayed at Holmes. "I came myself," he said, "because I want to tell you how it stands. An officer of the law with a warrant to serve is not only allowed to use his discretion, he's supposed to. It's up to you Mister Holmes. Let me use my discretion. If you have any information that would get Doctor Watson off the hook, now would be an excellent time. You can't tell me that you haven't a notion on where we should direct our attentions."
"Oh very well," Holmes sighed as he made his way to my desk. When I moved to intercept him, he tersely whispered "She made the soup herself; you owe her nothing!" As I had no counterargument, I surrendered and stepped aside. He took the pages, handed them to Lestrade, and spoke. "I suggest that you look at the affidavits first. The last two sheets."
Over the years my friend has made a large assortment of jibes at and about Inspector Lestrade, but even Holmes had to admit that he considered the inspector as "one of the best out of a bad lot." As Lestrade inspected our written testimony, not once did he ask a question or even look up, and when he finished, even then there were no questions. Inspector Jones would have kept at us for at least an hour. Lestrade merely gave each of us a five-second hard look, folded the document and put it in his inside breast pocket. In a moment he spoke. "I'll have Susan McLeod in my custody within the hour, even if I have to wrap her up and carry her myself," he said before he walked down the stairs, went to the stand, retrieved his hat, and marched out.
"Well that's that, then," my friend commented airily without a care in the world.
I must confess I was quite cross with Holmes for the rest of the day.
Next: I Share the Glory
