Transcript

Chapter 14 · Bullet Proof

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Chapter fourteen of Bulletproof by Frank Kine. This LibriVox recording is in the public
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domain read by Ben Tucker. The cab dropped Johnny Lydell and Muggsy heely at
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the entrance to the court house. Lydell led the way to the basement office
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of the Medical Examiner, walked in. Doc Travin sat behind his huge desk,
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looked up as they walked in, grinned them welcome. I wasn't expecting
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you to back so soon. What have you dug up now a murder,
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Lydell told him wearily. Doc Travin chuckled, not another one like the last
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one. Business share must be bad when you go out trying to make suicides
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look like murder. Lydell scowled irritably at the little man's humor. Dropped into
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a chair. What would you do if I brought you a murder, a
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murderer, a motive, and an opportunity talk? Doc Travin brought up a
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chair for Muggsy helped her into it. I'd see to it that the killer
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got the chair. What else? Suppose you were positive that you had all
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these things, but you couldn't prove it to this satisfaction of a jury.
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The medical examiner perched on the corner of his desk. Either there's a murder
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or there isn't a murder. Either there's a corpus delecti or there isn't a
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corpus delecti. What's all the double talk for? Johnnylied old, grinned crookedly.
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I've got the corpus delecti and I've got the murder. I'm gonna hand
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them over to you, and it's up to you to prove them. Only
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I'm damned if I think you can. Doc Travins snorted impatiently. If there's
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a murder, we'll prove it. He leaned back, pushed his desk buzzer.
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First, let's have a cup of coffee and tuck it over. Muggsy
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nodded. We can both use some Smitty. The angular lab assistant stuck her
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head into the room. Three coffees, Smitty rush them one black. Muggsy
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put in. Smitty nodded withdrew her head. Now suppose you tell me what
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this is all about, Johnny, give it an order. First, let's
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have the murder, he sniffed. A murder, that's not a murder.
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A corpus DELECTI. That's not a corpus DELUCTI. He turned to my Ugsy.
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You know this story. Muggsy shook her head. Lydell's been doing a
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solo Sherlock Holmes all day, only instead of using a needle, he's been
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using cognac. Lydell stuck a cigarette between his lips. Lit it. Your
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murder is the killing of Matt Merritt, he said, flatly. Oh not
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again. Doc Travin groaned, We've been all through that, Johnny. Matt
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Merrick committed suicide. You admitted it yourself when I showed you the records.
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I admitted you made a good case for suicide, but it wasn't good enough.
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I know he was murdered and I can prove it, but not for
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a jury. The clerk came in, deposited three cardboard containers of coffee on
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the desk, went out. Nobody made a move. How could it be
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murdered, Johnny? He was shot through the mouth and there was no sign
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of a struggle. Lydell nodded, how about the bullet? Doc Travin scowled
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his impatience. So it wasn't found? So what so I found it?
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Where? Lydell took a deep drag on his cigarette blew it downward, right
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where it had to be if it was murder. Doc Travin looked from Lydell
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to Muggsy, who nodded and back. What the hell are you talking about?
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We gave that place a good going over and there was no bullet.
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If you're trying to pull anything, Lydell, Lydell sighed, pull anything,
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your grandmother. I've got two witnesses who saw me find that bullet, and
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when you dug it out of the wall, you're gonna find it matches the
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gun merit was killed with. I don't care where you found the bullet.
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It was suicide and nobody can make me believe anything else. Travin stormed,
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then, well, you might as well tell me where did you find it?
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And the tapestry on the far wall. The medical examiner stared at him,
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open mouthed, how the hell did you come to look in the tapestry?
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It figured it didn't go in the ceiling. Your story about it falling
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to the floor spent was too silly to even consider. It had to go
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someplace, Why not into a wall? Lydell enjoyed the speechlessness of the little
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Man. One wall was glass, the other two full of books. I
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settled for the tapestry. Why Lydell shrugged the desk lamp, My guess was
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he would be facing the desk lamp. The bullet had to go into the
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tapestry that way. Travin was making a visible effort to keep up with the
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developments, having indifferent success. I don't care. Nobody can convince me that
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any man will let a killer stick a gun in his mouth without a struggle,
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unless it was his doctor. Lydell tossed the bombshell with startling success.
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Doc Travin's eyes bulged, his jaw dropped. Come again. The thing that
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three off is the fact that there was no struggle. You figure nobody would
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let a killer stick a gun in his mouth without a struggle, right,
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Travin nodded wordlessly. But suppose the killer is his doctor, and he's been
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feeding him a lot of malarkey about an imaginary throat infection, and the victim
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doesn't know it's a gun the doc is sticking in his throat. Break it
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down further. Johnny Muggsy urged, Okay, you've got a doc who tells
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you you have throat infection. You let the doc look into your throat,
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even stick an instrument into your mouth so he can get a good look.
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One day, instead of an instrument, he shoves in the nose of a
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gun, and boom. He took the cigarette from between his lips, stared
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at it with distaste, crushed it out that way. The throat ailment gag
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serves two purposes, give a plausible reason for the suicide and provides the opportunity
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for committing the murder. Doc Travin was leaning forward his mouth agape. He
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made an effort to pull himself together. You're wrong, mugs. He has
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been using a needle, But there was a look of indecision on his face.
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So there's your murder and your opportunity. Wait a minute, you didn't
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explain how you knew where to look for that bullet, Travin protested, I
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knew if he had shot himself through the mouth, the bullet would be in
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the ceiling. Now, if the doc was pretending to examine the throat merit
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would throw his head back right. The medical examiner nodded gloomily. He was
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standing when he got it. The only direct light in the room was on
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the desk, So he was facing the desk with his head thrown back.
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There was only one place the bullet could go. The medical examiner rubbed his
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hand across his mouth, tried to punch a hole in the theory failed.
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The killer Johnny, Doc Saville, what was his motive? Travin wanted to
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know Merritt's money. Of course, Lydel reached over, took one of the
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paper containers, handed one to Muggsy. He was slated to Mary Jean,
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the old man's only heir. He gouged the top out of his container.
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Saville killed him. But I can't prove it, and I don't think you
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can either, Doc. Why should he kill him? The old man thought
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a lot of him. He could still have married the girl and eventually inherited
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the money. The medical examiner argued, Maybe Merritt found out that Tony Seville
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of Park Avenue and Anthony and Savalaro of Mulberry Street were one and the same
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guy. Maybe he also found out that Anne Savalaro had been married to a
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nurse named Mellison. Maybe he was figuring on breaking up the marriage. What's
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this and Sevalaro business? That's Saville's right name? The one he went through
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medical school and internship with the one he was married under. He took an
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experimental sip of his coffee. He was a little Eastside kid with no future
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and plenty of plans in it. Up is a fifteen dollar a month intern
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in a city hospital, without a dream of raising enough money to open his
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own office. Doc Travin pulled a desk pad over, scribbled a few notes
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on it. Go ahead, he nodded. Lydell settled back in his chair,
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took another sip of coffee. One day he gets what looks like a
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big break. Pete Vailey, top racket boy on the East Side, gets
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himself shot up in the Governeur district. Ann Savalaro is riding bus that day,
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does an extra special job of patching Pete up before he takes him into
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the hospital. Doc Travin looked disappointed. So what's that got to do with
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Met Merritt and his daughter? Let me tell it my own way, Lydell
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held up his hand. After he finishes a stretch on the bus, he
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goes into mail surgery, starts to drop by Pete's room more and more often.
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Maybe Laura Melicon, who's in charge of male surgery at that time sets
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it up for him. I don't know anyway, Pretty soon he and Pete
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are telling each other they are troubles, such as Lydell shrugged. Pete had
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plenty of troubles in those days. He was just building up his organization,
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and he's got competition. Competition means a little rough stuff. And sometimes Pete
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and his boys need medical care, discreet medical care, which they can't get.
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The doctors reported every time he or his boy show up for treatment,
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the medical examiner nodded, doodled on his desk pad. Pete scared a death
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to ignore wound because his kid brother Mickey, died from an infected wound.
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So when Anne Savalaro makes his proposition, Pete is plenty ready for it.
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Stop making like you read crystal balls, Muggsy grinned pop Michaels told you that
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Lydell nodded. I don't know who made whom the proposition actually, but the
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upshot of it is that Ann Savalaro got a fancy, uptown office and a
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private hospital in Westchester, and Vali and his boys get constant and discreet medical
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care. Doc Travin stirred unhappily in his chair. These are serious charges you're
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making, Johnny, can you make them stick? I can't prove a bit
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of it, Doc, that's your job, Lydell admitted, cheerfully. All
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it can prove is that Anne Savalaro became Seville in nineteen forty and that as
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Anne Savalaro he married Laura Malleson, who conveniently died in nineteen forty five in
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time for him to make an all out pitch for Jean Merritt. Doc Travin
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made a few more notes, Well, it won't be hard to establish when
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he opened that Park Avenue office and his Westchester set up. It will be
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to find out where he got the money to do it. You think Bailey
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underwrote it, Lydell shrugged. It may be a coincidence, But from that
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day to this neither Vailey nor any of his men have ever shown up for
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gunshot wound treatment. Oh kay, So Vailey sets him up. Then what?
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Savill's a good looking boy, and with the front Valley's money pays for
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pretty So he's doing all right with the debs all this time. Of course,
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he's married to Laura. Maybe she objects, maybe she doesn't. Anyway,
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there's no crisis until Seville meets Jean Merritt and falls hook line and sinker
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for the old man's bank account light l Dren his paper cup, crushed it
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with his fist, tossed it at the waste basket. Laura is now a
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handicap, so she's got to go. In nineteen forty five, she conveniently
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dies, clearing the way for Seville to marry Gene Merritt. If he has
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Vailey's money in back of him, why I take the risk of getting rid
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of Laura just to marry more money. By nineteen forty five, Pete Valley
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is well organized and he's getting less and less action out of the dock for
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his money. He sees a chance of getting back some of his investment in
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Seville, so he backs the doc's play for Gene. He ran a hand
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across his eyes. There you are, Doc, it's all yours, the
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murderer, the murderer, the means and the motive. I'm not boring you,
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am I Doc. The medical examiner forced a grin that his eyes didn't
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join into not a bit, Johnny, it's more soothing than mother goose,
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if a little less probable, even if we can't move in on a reputable
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physician on the alcoholic day dreams of a punch drunk private eye. Go ahead
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anyway, I can't wait to hear how it turns out. I can tell
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you that too. Seville gets away with it and manages to muscle the district
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attorney into lifting my license for persecuting him. When things go quiet down a
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little, he'll marry Jean inherit the old man's dough and kick the kid around
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until she wears out. Where'd you come into this picture? Travin wanted to
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know, just in time to get my ears half shot off. The girl
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must have gotten suspicious of the way her father died, contacted the agency to
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dig into it, and some way Saville tumbled to what she did, sent
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a couple of Ailey's boys to discourage me. Muggs Achille was biting on her
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finger nails with concentrated energy. There's one thing about the whole picture I think
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you've got wrong, Johnny, the way you set it up. The doc
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waited for a night when nobody was home. There was somebody home that night,
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missus merrit that was her tough luck lydel nodded, she heard the shot,
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came running, found the dock. Leaning over her husband's body. She
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started to yell, and he must have slammed her over the head with his
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rod. His story that she got those injuries falling down the stairs wouldn't hold
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up. The carpeting on the stairs was too thick. Why didn't he kill
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her right there? Travin argued, that would ruin the suicide theory. Of
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course, he might have staged a suicide and murder, but that might have
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stirred up an inquiry. So he did it the easy way. Set the
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old guy up as a suicide. Lugged the old lady to the head of
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the stairs and pitched her down. Doc Travin pinched at his lower lip.
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She could have been killed by the fall. Well, that would have been
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all right. It would have looked as though she had started for help,
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fainted and was accidentally killed by a fall down the stairs. If she didn't
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die. As the family physician, he could lug her off to his private
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hospital, where he could see to it that she didn't do any talking.
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Doc Travin nodded. It all fits, he conceded, But where's the girl
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now? Savilla has her someplace. She was afraid to be seen talking to
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me, wouldn't come to the office, wouldn't let me come to the hotel.
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When Seville's boys grabbed her, they found out she was supposed to meet
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me at the drug store, sent a delegation to scare me off. Maybe
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they did get her, but she went peacefully enough. It seems to me,
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Muggsy put in, she could have kicked up a fuss at the hotel
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if they were taking her away against her will. Don't forget they had her
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mother in their hands. They might have told her the old lady would suffer
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if she gave them any trouble. Doc Travin chewed on his pencil, considered
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the picture. Lydell a drawn. You figure the reason they tried to get
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you is because the girl might have told you too much. Lydell nodded.
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Maybe they were only figuring on throwing a scare into me that first night,
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But Skota didn't look as if he was fooling without thirty eight in his fist.
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From what I heard, they weren't full in that second time. Johnny
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Muggsy put in Ricci was a killer. That was Doc Saville's work, for
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sure. Muggs after I talked to him the morning after Jean Merritt disappeared,
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he realized I wasn't going to be scared off. He figured I knew more
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than I was admitting, so he sent Riccy to blast me right out of
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my hotel room. Doc Travin slammed his pencil down, hopped off the desk.
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Let's go get them lightel didn't move, get home for what he asked,
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If you went into court with a story like this, you'd be laughed
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right on to the retirement list. Haven't you ever heard what happens to police
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officials who make false arrests and to private detectives who aid and abet them.
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You don't think they can get away with this, Johnny Muggsy looked worried.
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They're doing it. Mugs. We may know a lot of things, but
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proving them as another story. How about the old lady, Johnny Travin demanded,
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She's the weak link inn Seville's armor. If you're right, she may
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be able to put the doc in the house the night Merit died. How
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are you going to get her testimony, get a warrant and raid the sanitarium?
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On what grounds? You can't move her without physicians? Okay, and
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that's Saville. You can't even bring in another doc to examine her because that's
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on ethie or something. Lidel growled, Get used to it. Doc'sville's holding
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all the aces. The little man took a deep breath. Let it whistle
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between his teeth. What do we do? Sit here and let him get
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away with it? Looks like he's doing it anyway, so we might just
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as well relax and enjoy it. Wouldn't it be worthwhile taking a chance on
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getting a search warrant like the doc suggests. Johnny Muggsy wanted to know,
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he'd hear about it, and the chances are that by the time the writ
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was issued, the old lady would be dead from natural causes. As it
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is, the chances are that my license is just a memory, but the
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doc would be back wiping running noses and giving penicillin shots so far in the
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sticks that even a rumor could only reach him. By carrier Pigeon, Muggs
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a chilly dug a cigarette from the voluminous depths of her handbag. If we
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could only find Geene, she must know something. Doc Travin grinned humorlessly.
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If Johnny's right, Bailey's boys have her on ice, and if we push
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too hard, it may be curtains for her too, right, Johnny,
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I doubt it, Doc. They've taken too many risks to get their hands
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on that money. Their best bet is to rush the schedule and push the
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marriage through. After all, a wife can't testify against her husband. Lydell
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shook his head slowly. They may knock the old lady off, but not
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the girl. Doc Travin tore the top off his container of coffee, tested
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it with his finger. Damn near ice cold, he growled. You make
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your fairy stories too interesting? What's with you two characters? Muggsy asked in
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a shocked tone. You sound like you're gonna sit there and let them get
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away with this. I didn't say that exactly, muggs. Lydell told her.
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I said Doc has all the aces, but Lydell shrugged. Sometimes a
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trump can take an ace. I think I have a couple of trumps.
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Then what are we waiting for? Lydell pursed his lips. It may be
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slightly illegal, he looked at Doc Travin, speculatively illegal and dangerous. Doc
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Travin stirred his coffee around the sonky container with his finger how illegal, illegal
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entry, house breaking, robbery? What for? Lydell shrugged, evidence that
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may give us a foot in the door. Doc Travin drank his cold coffee,
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crushed the cup, dropped it into the waste basket. He leaned back,
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avoided Lydell's eyes. What a blessing to be deaf that way? You
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can't hear an illegal proposal. Lydell stared at him for a second, nodded.
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Maybe you're right. Maybe it's a good thing you didn't hear me,
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because I'm going through with it. But you'd better stay out of it.
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Doc, You've got a job to worry about. That's right. I've got
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a job, and you've got a license. If he get caught at this
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caper, your license is gone. You'll be blackballed in every state of the
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Union and serve time on top of it. Muggs, he got up.
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Come on, Johnny, what are we waiting for? Doc Travin shook his
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head. You're not going, mugs. It's bad enough he's out of his
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mind and his going to bull himself into his cell for the next five years.
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But you're too pretty to be cooped up. Besides, you wouldn't care
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for the styles they're wearing in there now. I'm going with him. Doc
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Muggsy stuck her chin out, her blue eyes flashing defiance. I'm not letting
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him go into this alone. Doc Travin grinned, who said he's going to
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do it alone. Muggsy blinked, you mean you're in, of course,
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I'm in, blied Elk grinned. Don't be crazy, Doc, A guy
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in your position can't afford to get fouled up in a mess like this,
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Ain't it a fact? Doc Travin sighed, I've got a feeling I'm gonna
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hate myself in the morning, but I bet tonight's going to be fun.
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End of chapter fourteen.