Heath settled himself in a chair. He took a few moments to arrange his thoughts.
“It’s like this, sir. Yesterday afternoon I got to thinking. Here was Skeel murdered, same like Odell, after he’d promised to squeal; and it certainly looked as though the same guy had strangled both of ’em. Therefore, I concluded that there musta been two guys in the apartment Monday night—the Dude and the murderer—just like Mr. Vance has been saying all along. Then I figured that they knew each other pretty well, because not only did the other fellow know where the Dude lived, but he musta been wise to the fact that the Dude was going to squeal yesterday. It looked to me, sir, like they had pulled the Odell job together—which is why the Dude didn’t squeal in the first place. But after the other fellow lost his nerve and threw the jewellery away, Skeel thought he’d play safe by turning state’s evidence, so he phoned you.”
The Sergeant smoked a moment.
“I never put much stock in Mannix and Cleaver and the doc. They weren’t the kind to do a job like that, and they certainly weren’t the kind that would be mixed up with a jailbird like Skeel. So I stood all three of ’em to one side, and began looking round for a bad egg—somebody who’d have been likely to be Skeel’s accomplice. But first I tried to figure out what you might call the physical obstacles in the case—that is, the snags we were up against in our reconstruction of the crime.”
Again he paused.
“Now, the thing that’s been bothering us most is that side door. How did it get unbolted after six o’clock? And who bolted it again after the crime? Skeel musta come in by it before eleven, because he was in the apartment when Spotswoode and Odell returned from the theatre; and he probably went out by it after Cleaver had come to the apartment at about midnight. But that wasn’t explaining how it got bolted again on the inside. Well, sir, I studied over this for a long time yesterday, and then I went up to the house and took another look at the door. Young Spively was running the switchboard, and I asked him where Jessup was, for I wanted to ask him some questions. And Spively told me he’d quit his job the day before—Saturday afternoon!”
Heath waited to let this fact sink in.
“I was on my way down-town before the idea came to me. Then it hit me sudden-like; and the whole case broke wide open.—Mr. Markham, nobody but Jessup coulda opened that side door and locked it again—nobody. Figure it out for yourself, sir—though I guess you’ve pretty well done it already. Skeel couldn’t’ve done it. And there wasn’t nobody else to do it.”
Markham had become interested, and leaned forward.
“After this idea had hit me,” Heath continued, “I decided to take a chance; so I got outa the Subway at the Penn Station, and phoned Spively for Jessup’s address. Then I got my first good news: Jessup lived on Second Avenue, right around the corner from Skeel! I picked up a coupla men from the local station, and went to his house. We found him packing up his things, getting ready to go to Detroit. We locked him up, and I took his finger-prints and sent ’em to Dubois. I thought I might get a line on him that way, because crooks don’t generally begin with a job as big as the Canary prowl.”