CHAPTER XVI.
Admissions and Suppressions
(Tuesday, June 18; afternoon.)
An hour later Phelps, the operative Markham had sent to 94 Riverside Drive, came in radiating satisfaction.
“I think I’ve got what you want, Chief.” His raucous voice was covertly triumphant. “I went up to the St. Clair woman’s apartment and rang the bell. She came to the door herself, and I stepped into the hall and put my questions to her. She sure refused to answer. When I let on I knew the package contained the gun Benson was shot with, she just laughed and jerked the door open. ‘Leave this apartment, you vile creature,’ she says to me.”
He grinned.
“I hurried downstairs, and I hadn’t any more than got to the switchboard when her signal flashed. I let the boy get the number, and then I stood him to one side, and listened in. . . . She was talking to Leacock, and her first words were: ‘They know you took the pistol from here yesterday and threw it in the river.’ That must’ve knocked him out, for he didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he answered, perfectly calm and kinda sweet: ‘Don’t worry, Muriel; and don’t say a word to anybody for the rest of the day. I’ll fix everything in the morning.’ He made her promise to keep quiet until to-morrow, and then he said good-bye.”
Markham sat a while digesting the story.
“What impression did you get from the conversation?”
“If you ask me, Chief,” said the detective, “I’d lay ten to one that Leacock’s guilty and the girl knows it.”
Markham thanked him and let him go.