CHAPTER LVIII.The Puzzle“Listen. Bit by bit it works into the whole, like a picture puzzle—each segment slipping right into place. There is just one hole in it all, and I think your Danny’s kindness and unselfishness will supply that necessary bit.”She began then—to use her own way of saying it—to put together the pieces of the puzzle. She was right. Bit by bit it fitted together. Almost at once she came to the place that she had called a hole.“There is no hole there,” I told her. “Under those circumstances, Danny would have been just sweet, and unselfish, and foolish enough to have done that very thing. She did it. That was why she was worried and unhappy, all that day.”“I’m sure of it. Now then . . .” She went on: Danny’s calling after Gaby that day—easy to understand now, of course, and leading straight to Chad’s suicide and confessional note. Gaby’s fear; Martha’s murder; Sam’s ashes on the bag; Gaby’s note to Danny; each one fitting right into place, until spread in front of me was one of the most hideous pictures that any human being has ever been forced to look at.“Only,” I gasped, “there can’t be such wickedness in the world! I mean—not such long wickedness.”“In all my experience,” she said, “I have never investigated another murder case where the thing was so cruelly, vilely premeditated; so wickedly, cunningly carried out. If this is true, it will be, also, the first time that I have found a really brilliant mind belonging to a fiend.”“If it is true!” I echoed. “But it is proven. You have just proven it all to me.”She shook her head. “We have a seemingly perfect fabric made up, wholly, of circumstantial evidence. As yet, we have nothing else. Now I have a question to ask you. It will seem to you that I should have asked you this at least a week ago. I did not, because I was certain that, unless I shared all of my suspicions with you, your answer would be exactly the answer that you gave me before. Now, thinking as you think, I want a very careful answer to this question.”When she had asked it, I refused my first impulse to answer it, at once, and sat thinking carefully for several minutes. The answer that I was forced to give, then, made me sick with shame.“No,” I said, “I didn’t. I thought, honestly, that I did. But now I know that I didn’t. That—that,” I knew I was chattering it, “puts Canneziano’s murder right at my door——”“Nonsense,” she folded one of my trembling hands into her steady, capable hands. “We can’t go poking about like that, into the machinery of fate, and stay sane. The blame in this case is entirely for me. But, if I had not allowed myself to be misled then, but had worked straight on, something equally tragic might have happened. We don’t know. What we do know is, that no more time must be wasted.“I have spent this past week in trying to obtain the necessary proof. I have failed. Now, I am going to ask you to help me. Will you?”“I will, and gladly. But you’ll have to tell me what you want me to do. I haven’t the faintest idea.”She told me.“Lands alive!” I said. “That ought to be easy.”I could see that she was annoyed. “I haven’t found it so,” she said. “I have made three attempts, as many as I dared make, this week, and have failed. Do you realize that it must come simply, and naturally? You must realize that——”“See here,” I interrupted, “why not do as Sam wants you to do? Why not arrest the criminal now, and force the proof, afterwards? This sort of evidence could be gotten then, as well as now, and a lot safer, too, it seems to me.”“Mrs. Magin,” she said, “until we have evidence of guilt we have no criminal to arrest. Incredible as it seems, we might still be wrong concerning every bit of this. I once made a horrible mistake. It was on my third case—that is, after I began to work for myself. I don’t talk about it. I can’t think about it. But I made myself a promise then, a promise that I have never broken, and which I never will break. Except in extreme necessity, proof, positive, and perfect, must come before any accusation or arrest in a case of mine. Twice, as I have said, I have had men arrested because of circumstantial evidence. Each time the evidence was far stronger than anything we have in this case. The first time, the man would have undoubtedly escaped if he had not been put in confinement. The second time was on my third case, which I have mentioned. If you force me to make this the third time——”“I can’t force you to do anything,” I reminded her, hoping to cool her down a bit.“Yes, you can. If you go at this so clumsily that you give the thing away, and so endanger your own life, I shall have to force matters. I must, of course, risk a reputation—I’m not speaking of my own, you understand—in preference to risking a life—again I am not speaking of my own. But, if we are wrong in this, and rememberwe may be—circumstantial evidence is the trickiest thing in the world—it would be bitterly cruel and wrong. It would be even worse than the other mistake of mine. Will you remember that, when you make your first attempt?”“Yes, I’ll remember. When do you want me to make the first attempt?”“As soon as possible. This afternoon, if you can do it.”“But—how shall I do it?”“I am going to leave that to you, and to your natural wit. You can do it much more spontaneously if you are not attempting to follow set directions. But do, do be careful. Don’t make a mistake.”With that she left me. I am ashamed to say that excitement had made me forget my sorrow. I sat there saying my prayers, planning, and shaking in my shoes, for a good half hour before I could get up enough courage to go downstairs. In all probability, the next hour would bring me face to face with the murderous fiend; and not by the blink of an eye, not by the ghost of a shiver, must I betray my horrible knowledge.
“Listen. Bit by bit it works into the whole, like a picture puzzle—each segment slipping right into place. There is just one hole in it all, and I think your Danny’s kindness and unselfishness will supply that necessary bit.”
She began then—to use her own way of saying it—to put together the pieces of the puzzle. She was right. Bit by bit it fitted together. Almost at once she came to the place that she had called a hole.
“There is no hole there,” I told her. “Under those circumstances, Danny would have been just sweet, and unselfish, and foolish enough to have done that very thing. She did it. That was why she was worried and unhappy, all that day.”
“I’m sure of it. Now then . . .” She went on: Danny’s calling after Gaby that day—easy to understand now, of course, and leading straight to Chad’s suicide and confessional note. Gaby’s fear; Martha’s murder; Sam’s ashes on the bag; Gaby’s note to Danny; each one fitting right into place, until spread in front of me was one of the most hideous pictures that any human being has ever been forced to look at.
“Only,” I gasped, “there can’t be such wickedness in the world! I mean—not such long wickedness.”
“In all my experience,” she said, “I have never investigated another murder case where the thing was so cruelly, vilely premeditated; so wickedly, cunningly carried out. If this is true, it will be, also, the first time that I have found a really brilliant mind belonging to a fiend.”
“If it is true!” I echoed. “But it is proven. You have just proven it all to me.”
She shook her head. “We have a seemingly perfect fabric made up, wholly, of circumstantial evidence. As yet, we have nothing else. Now I have a question to ask you. It will seem to you that I should have asked you this at least a week ago. I did not, because I was certain that, unless I shared all of my suspicions with you, your answer would be exactly the answer that you gave me before. Now, thinking as you think, I want a very careful answer to this question.”
When she had asked it, I refused my first impulse to answer it, at once, and sat thinking carefully for several minutes. The answer that I was forced to give, then, made me sick with shame.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t. I thought, honestly, that I did. But now I know that I didn’t. That—that,” I knew I was chattering it, “puts Canneziano’s murder right at my door——”
“Nonsense,” she folded one of my trembling hands into her steady, capable hands. “We can’t go poking about like that, into the machinery of fate, and stay sane. The blame in this case is entirely for me. But, if I had not allowed myself to be misled then, but had worked straight on, something equally tragic might have happened. We don’t know. What we do know is, that no more time must be wasted.
“I have spent this past week in trying to obtain the necessary proof. I have failed. Now, I am going to ask you to help me. Will you?”
“I will, and gladly. But you’ll have to tell me what you want me to do. I haven’t the faintest idea.”
She told me.
“Lands alive!” I said. “That ought to be easy.”
I could see that she was annoyed. “I haven’t found it so,” she said. “I have made three attempts, as many as I dared make, this week, and have failed. Do you realize that it must come simply, and naturally? You must realize that——”
“See here,” I interrupted, “why not do as Sam wants you to do? Why not arrest the criminal now, and force the proof, afterwards? This sort of evidence could be gotten then, as well as now, and a lot safer, too, it seems to me.”
“Mrs. Magin,” she said, “until we have evidence of guilt we have no criminal to arrest. Incredible as it seems, we might still be wrong concerning every bit of this. I once made a horrible mistake. It was on my third case—that is, after I began to work for myself. I don’t talk about it. I can’t think about it. But I made myself a promise then, a promise that I have never broken, and which I never will break. Except in extreme necessity, proof, positive, and perfect, must come before any accusation or arrest in a case of mine. Twice, as I have said, I have had men arrested because of circumstantial evidence. Each time the evidence was far stronger than anything we have in this case. The first time, the man would have undoubtedly escaped if he had not been put in confinement. The second time was on my third case, which I have mentioned. If you force me to make this the third time——”
“I can’t force you to do anything,” I reminded her, hoping to cool her down a bit.
“Yes, you can. If you go at this so clumsily that you give the thing away, and so endanger your own life, I shall have to force matters. I must, of course, risk a reputation—I’m not speaking of my own, you understand—in preference to risking a life—again I am not speaking of my own. But, if we are wrong in this, and rememberwe may be—circumstantial evidence is the trickiest thing in the world—it would be bitterly cruel and wrong. It would be even worse than the other mistake of mine. Will you remember that, when you make your first attempt?”
“Yes, I’ll remember. When do you want me to make the first attempt?”
“As soon as possible. This afternoon, if you can do it.”
“But—how shall I do it?”
“I am going to leave that to you, and to your natural wit. You can do it much more spontaneously if you are not attempting to follow set directions. But do, do be careful. Don’t make a mistake.”
With that she left me. I am ashamed to say that excitement had made me forget my sorrow. I sat there saying my prayers, planning, and shaking in my shoes, for a good half hour before I could get up enough courage to go downstairs. In all probability, the next hour would bring me face to face with the murderous fiend; and not by the blink of an eye, not by the ghost of a shiver, must I betray my horrible knowledge.