Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

12 Kearney ripped out an exclamation and bent over him. "Yeali, he got it all right," he said. "Mulvaney, pull the communication cord." Mulvaney obeyed, and as the train s(iiiealed to a standstill the motorman came through from his cabin. "Man shot," Kearney told him cursorily. "He's dead. Can we 'phone from anywhere?" "Outside on the tracks," was the re- joinder. "There's an emergency 'phone every two hundred feet. But say, we're tying up the whole subway system stayin' here." Kearney was of the type whose brain acted according to the regulations of the Force, when it acted at all—a block- headed ex-patrolman who had bj some strange piece of good fortune been pro- moted to the investigation bureau. "You'll start the train when I tell yuh to," he roared. "Mulvaney, get head- quarter on the 'phone and tell 'em a murdier's been committed. And watch the live rail." Tlie central doors were opened for Mulvaney. Several people tried to rush them and escape from the car, which had so unexpectedly become a setting for death, drama and—though the cir- cumstances at first belied it—mystery Kearney held them in check, but had some difficulty in driving back a big fellow in a .sweater. "I'm One-Round Dolan," he of the sweater appealed, " and I've gotta get oflF. I'm fightin' Bull Yancy in half-an- liour." Kearney shoved him into his seat, and ;\lulvaney dropped to the truck. In a few minutes ho returned. "They're sending Inspector Killian to meet us at 72nd Street," he announced. " We've gotta hold everybody in the car until he gets there." "Inspector Killian," Kearney echoed smugly. "He'll be glad to see mc on the job. I'm his right-hand man. Hey, you, motorman—start this train up-town, and don't .stop till you hit Seventy- Second. And guard, when we pull in, don't open them doors till I give you the word." Killian. THE train ran into 72nd Street station, and Inspector Killian Jind a couple of subway officials stepped across the platform to the oentra! doors of Number One car. At Kearney's signal the doors were opened, and Killian entered. ■ 'Get the passengers out of the other cars," Inspector Killian said to the two subway officials over his shoulder. "I won't need thcni. But everybody in this car will have to remain." Kearney confronted him. "Listen, chief," ho began to explain, "tliat Italian over there shot this guy here." And he pointed to the dead, rigid body of Tracy. "No, no," cried the accused Italian. " I no' have gun." "Did you sec the Italian do it. Kear- ney?" asked Killian, ignoring the sus- pect's outburst. "No," Kearney confes.sod. "But I almost did. He's your man, anyway. You see, a fight starts with that guy there "—indicating Borden, who had come round some time before—"and somebody pulls a gat. It goes ofl acci- dental-like, and that other guy gets the works." And once more he motioned to Tracy. Killian's strong face registered an ex- pression of mild .scorn. " AccidcMital?'' he repeated. "Then why did you send for me. Kearney ? All you had to do was to take these men Otlooer 3ril, 1031. BOY'S CINEMA down to the station house on a charge of manslaughter." "Sure, that was my idea," said the unabashed Kearney. " Shall I call up for a wagon ?" "No." was the rejoinder, "I've got a medical examiner meeting the train at 145th Street. Tell the motorman to drive there, and no stops on the way." The motorman obeyed the instructions sourly, and, the train on the move, Kil- lian .spoke to Kearney again. "What's the dead man's name?" he demanded. "Well, I hadn't got round to askin' that yet," Kearney muttered. "But the dame called himty his first name." He motioned to the girl known as Dale, and Killian repeated his question to her. " His name is Edward Tracy," the girl answered. "Mine is Dale Tracy. Ho was—my husband !" "Huh?" interrupted Kearney in a startled tone. "Then who's this guy that got the sock in the jaw?" "My husband's partner—and his best friend—Paul Borden," the girl told him. " Triangle," Kearney breathed darkly. "Listen." put in Killian. "What did Borden do when he found out his partner had been shot?' Kciarney took it upon himself to answer. "He .said he didn't do it, chief. He only knew about it when he came round from a sock on the jaw that he got in the fight." "W^as the blow .struck before or after the shot was fired?" Killian asked. "Well, I don't know, inspector," Kear- ney replied. "It all happened .so fast. But, anyway, that Italian's your man. I've got it all figured out, chief." "How many times have I told yovi not to jump to conclusions. Kearney?" Kd- lian snapped. "Listen, we'll get the names of everybody in. the car to start with. I'll start with these two Italians." "I no' .shoot." wailed the one on whom Kearney had fixed the crime. " I no' havit da gun. inspect' ! Aw, mees- ter, you no put dees in da paper. My wife .she raisa da devil—she 'tink I'm in Brooklyn with sicka da friend." "I want your name," said Killian. "and the name of this countryman of yours, too." Both names were well-nigh unpro- nouncablc to an Anglo-Saxon. Killian bade them write them down, the sus- pect's beginning with Antonio, and his companion's with Giuseppe—Tony and Zippy for .short. Meanwhile Kearney and Mulvaney were securing the identities of the other passengers. The woman with the deaf hu.sband answered to the name of Cotton, and the stout little person to whom Paul Borden had given up his seat pronounced herself, "Mrs. Mary Mull ins—housewife." "Kearney," said Inspector Killian presently, "give mo the gun that was fired." And the weapon being handetl to him: "Which of you fellows owns this?" he contijiued, addressing Borden and the two Italian.s. Nojic of them admitted ownership, and Killian'.s face hardened. _ "All right," he jerked, "but I'm going to find out whose gun this is if we stay here all night. Everybody take up the positions they were in when Tracy was killed." He was obeyed, the dead man staring impassively before him the while. Then Killian beckoned to the Cotton.s. "Move over, you two," ho said. "You were sitting on the d<^ad man's right, weren't you ?" "Oh, 110," Mrs. Cottou put i,n, glanc- Every Tuesday ing ai the empty scat next to Tracy. " The other man was next to Tracy, the nervous little man that was with Tracy's party. I—1 don't sec him now." "That's right," Mrs. Mary Mullina interposed. "There was another man. He was wearing a brown suit, so help me." And she raised her hand aloft as' she had seen witnesses do in a police- court. "Would you know him again?" Kil- lian demanded. " Yes, yer hcwiour," was the reply. "That's the man over there. I remem- ber the brown suit." Mrs. Mullins had made a mistake. The man she pointed to was the tall individual who had been standing next to Borden after the latter had offered her his scat. "She's wrong, in.spector," said the man in the brown suit. "I never savj Tracy in my life before. I'm only an employee here in the subway—(.Jeorge Mason, Switch Inspector. Here's my card." Mi-6. Mullins was not ready to admit her blunder, but Killian was satisfied. "Kearney," he ordered, "take the bracelets off those two Italians." "Right, chief," said Keainey, and did as he had been told. Killian then compelled the principals to re-enact the struggle, which they did half-heartedly. Then Mrs. Mullins spoke again. "That's just how it was, inspector," she declared. "Only more violent. And suddenly the Italian—Tony or whatever you call him—pulled the gun out of Borden's pocket." "That's right,"' another passenger cor- roborated. "1 saw that much.'' "So the gun did belong to you, Borden," Killian said, turning round. Dale Tracy interrupted. "No," she explained quickly. "It be- longed to my husband. He asked Paid to take it home and clean it for him, as he himself knew very little about fire- arms." Killian considered for a moment. "Mrs. Tracy," he said at length, " from what 1 can understand it was Borden, and not your husband, who re- sented this Italian's conduct. Were you happily married? If so, you don't seem to show any extraordinary signs of grief at your husband's death!" "This has gono far enough," Borden began heatedly, but the inspector cut in on him. "Keep quiet, Borden," he s;ud. "Maybe I'm through questioning Mrs. Tracy, maybe I'm not. But I'll ask you one question. What business were you in before you tied up with Tracy ?" "Electrical engineering," Borden answered, "but I found it was too crowded. So I went into the brokerage business with Tracy." "I suppose you carry business insur- ance," Killian observed. "For two hundred thousand dollars," was the rejoinder. "Tracy and I covered each other for a hundred thousand apiece." Killian looked thoughtfully at the ceil- ing of the swaying car. "Meaning that, in the event of your death Tracy would stand to get a hundred thousand dol- lars," he mused. "And now he's dead, you collect the hundred thousand." "So you think I shot him to collect the insurance," Borden ground out. "I don't think anything." Killian re- torted. "Now, Mre. Mullins—and you, Mrs. Cotton—I want you to sit over there and see if you can identify that man who .was sitting on Tracy's riglit. Kearney, have all the males in Uie cat file past me and give ll>€Jr naiiaes."