The Mouse in the Mountain - Norbert Davis (dark academia books to read txt) 📗

and she nodded.

"Miss Van Osdel did have a purse like that. I noticed it, and it wasn't in the lane where she was found."

Captain Perona looked back at Doan. "Have you got any more remarks to make at this time?"

"Well, there was one other thing."

"What?"

"About Eldridge. His roof fell on him"

Captain Perona breathed in deeply. "I do not suppose he was hurt? I do not suppose he was injured seriously, by any chance?"

"No," Doan admitted.

"I knew it! He is dead, of course!"

"Yes," said Doan.

"And what were you doing at the time? Something entirely innocent, I have no doubt!"

"I was just picking myself up from where the earthquake dumped me."

"How very convenient that earthquake was!" Captain Perona snarled. "You came here to prevent Eldridge from returning to the United States, and now you have succeeded!"

"Well," said Doan, "if you put it that way--yes."

"Consider yourself under arrest!"

"Hey, now," Doan protested mildly. "I didn't push Eldridge's roof over on him."

"Captain," said Janet, "I'm sure Mr. Doan is telling the truth! You're making a terrible mistake to--"

Captain Perona turned on her. "Do you wish to be arrested also?"

"No," said Janet.

"Then be quiet. Sergeant! Take this man to the barracks and keep him there until I investigate."

"You heard him, pudgy," said Sergeant Obrian. "On your way. And don't try any tricks. I don't carry this bayonet just because it shines so pretty."

"Can I take Carstairs?" Doan asked. "He usually goes to jail with me."

"Yes!"

Doan rapped Carstairs on the forehead with his knuckle. "Up-si-daisy, pal. Off to clink, we go."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Doan," Janet told him.

"Think nothing of it," Doan said. "We'll get right out again. We always do."

"Do not be too confident," Captain Perona advised dangerously.

Chapter 8

 

DOAN WAS SITTING ON ONE END OF a bench in a very small, very barren room with one narrow window and a rough board floor that was covered with dust which the quake had shaken from the walls and ceiling. Carstairs was sleeping on the rest of the bench. Sergeant Obrian stood just inside the door and watched them both grimly.

Captain Perona and Lieutenant Ortega came in the door.

"Tell us what you learned," Captain Perona ordered. "Speak in English so he may understand."

Lieutenant Ortega said: "I examined the body of Senor Eldridge. There was dust and plaster and bits of mortar in his clothes and in his hair. His spine was broken and severed below his waist, and his left arm was fractured, and he had five fractured ribs, one of which penetrated the lung cavity close to his heart. These wounds resulted in his death."

"Could Doan have given him those wounds?"

Lieutenant Ortega looked at Doan. "Oh, I think not."

"Look again," Captain Perona said. "His appearance is very deceptive."

Lieutenant Ortega shook his head. "There is no evidence of any human agency. I think Senor Eldridge was crushed by the fall of his roof."

"Sure he was," said Doan. "Why, I've even got a witness who saw me try trying to give Eldridge first aid."

"Who?" Captain Perona demanded.

"A fellow by the name of Lepicik."

"I do not know anyone by that name," said Captain Perona. "Was he a Mexican or a foreigner?"

"Foreigner, I guess."

Captain Perona looked at Sergeant Obrian inquiringly.

Sergeant Obrian shook his head. "No. There ain't nobody by that name in this burg--foreigner or otherwise. I checked 'em all."

"Well, I saw the guy," said Doan.

"No," Captain Perona contradicted flatly. "It is impossible for anyone to come into this district without us knowing him and identifying him. You are lying again."

"But, please," said a voice outside the door. "If you will pardon me, I must see the Captain. It is really quite important."

Sergeant Obrian jumped outside the door and came back in again immediately shoving Lepicik ahead of him. Lepicik smiled and nodded in a mildly apologetic way.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but I was informed that I must report my presence in Los Altos to you."

"What is your name?" Captain Perona demanded.

"I am Leon Lepicik."

"Ahem," said Doan.

Captain Perona bowed ironically. "I apologize. You were not lying--again. Senor Lepicik, how did you come to Los Altos?"

"I came from Santa Lucia."

"He's screwy," said Sergeant Obrian. "That's a gutbuster of a hike. No old droop like this could make it."

"Nevertheless," said Lepicik, "you will observe that I am here."

"Who guided you?" asked Captain Perona.

"A man by the name of Adolfo Morales and a burro named Carmencita. They--or at least Adolfo--are now in the process of getting drunk at the Dos Hermanos, if you wish to verify my story."

"We do wish to," said Captain Perona. "And we will. Are you a North American?"

"No, sir."

"Let me see your passport."

Lepicik produced a worn leather folder, and Captain Perona examined it carefully.

"Albanian, eh?" he said, looking up.

Lepicik nodded. "Yes. But you will note that the passport was issued before the Italian invasion and also bears the stamp of the Albanian government-in-exile."

"Hmmm," said Captain Perona, handing back the passport. "Have you ever seen this man?"

"Yes," said Lepicik. "Once."

"Where?"

"In the patio in back of a house on the Avenida Revolution."

"What was he doing?"

"Attempting to help a man who was fatally injured in the earthquake."

Doan had been holding his breath, and he let it out now in a long, gentle sigh.

"How do you know the man was injured in the earthquake?" Captain Perona asked.

"I saw it happen. I saw the roof of his house fall on him."

"How could you see that? The patio is enclosed by a high wall."

"The earthquake demolished the wall, and besides I was up on the hill above and in back of the house."

"What were you doing up there?"

Lepicik smiled at him. "Exploring. I find that a very interesting and educational pastime."

"Why did you come to Los Altos?"

"To explore."

"I see," said Captain Perona coldly. "Doan, you are released--for the moment. Go to the Hacienda Nueva Inglesa and register--and stay there. Senor Lepicik, you accompany him and do the same."

"I have already registered," said Lepicik, "and met the other charming members of the tourist party."

"Doan," said Captain Perona, "before you leave I wish to tell you certain things we know about your recent actions. You are employed by an agency called the Severn International Detectives, which has headquarters in New York. The agency was employed by a certain group of politicians in a certain state to send you to Mexico to bribe Senor Eldridge to stay here and to stop bothering them. You were given ten thousand dollars for that purpose, but you did not bring the ten thousand dollars to Mexico."

"Didn't I?" Doan asked.

"No. Instead you deposited it in the Commercial Trust Bank in Chicago under the name of D.L. Carstairs."

"It's a fund for his college education," said Doan, indicating Carstairs.

"I find your humor nauseating," Captain Perona told him shortly. "You never had any intention of paying that money to Eldridge. You embezzled it."

"Shame on me," said Doan. "I guess these certain politicians will sue me or put me in jail or something, then, won't they?"

Captain Perona scowled at him in silence.

"What is it?" Lieutenant Ortega asked. "I do not understand."

Captain Perona said: "He knows the politicians do not dare prosecute him because then they would have to explain why they gave him the money which would result in just the scandal they are trying to avoid."

"Hey!" Sergeant Obrian exclaimed. "You mean that pudgy gets to keep the ten grand? And then they try to tell you that crime don't pay!"

"Did you speak?" Captain Perona inquired.

"No, sir," said Sergeant Obrian.

Captain Perona pointed to Carstairs, to Doan, and to Lepicik. "Get out. All of you."

Doan nudged Carstairs with his elbow. "Come on, chum. We beat the rap."

Chapter 9

 

THE HACIENDA NUEVA INGLESA WAS neither a ranch nor new, and English only by adoption, but it had adobe walls six feet thick that had survived the earthquake with only a few exterior cracks. It was a narrow, two-story building on the west side of the plaza. Doan and Carstairs and Lepicik went in through the side entrance into a low, dim, musty-smelling room optimistically labeled a restaurant-bar.

"Mr. Doan!" Janet greeted. She was sitting at one of the round wire-legged tables under a poster which luridly proclaimed the virtues of Guinness Stout. "You were released! Oh, I'm so glad!"

"I told you not to worry about him," said Mrs. Henshaw. She was seated at another of the tables, writing busily in a leather-mounted diary with a tiny gold pencil. "I knew he'd manage to bribe somebody."

"I saved my money this time," Doan said. "Lepicik got me out."

"It was nothing," said Lepicik politely. "If you will excuse me now, I think I will take a nap in my room. I am very weary."

He went up the steep stairway to the second floor.

"Miss Martin," said Mrs. Henshaw, "what was that queer dish we had for lunch?"

"Chiles rellenos," Janet told her.

"How do you spell it?"

Janet spelled it for her.

Greg was sitting by himself in the corner staring darkly at the tall, round bottle of Plymouth gin on the table in front of him. Doan walked over to him.

"Can I have a drink of that?"

"I suppose so," Greg said. "If you pay for it. There are some glasses on the shelf back of the bar. If you want a mix, yell for Timpkins."

"I'll try it straight," Doan said. He found a glass and sat down at the table opposite Greg. "Let's get drunk, shall we?"

"Okay," said Greg.

Doan took off his hat and put it down on the table and unbuttoned his coat. He poured some gin into his glass and tasted it.

"It's good," he said. He finished the drink and poured himself another.

Carstairs walked up to the table and growled at him.

"As for you," said Doan. "You can go straight to hell."

Carstairs growled at him again.

"I'll get drunk if I feel like it," Doan told him. "It's my stomach. Lie down before somebody bops you with a bottle."

Carstairs lowered himself to the floor with a series of loose, bony thuds. He snorted once and then closed his eyes in a resigned way.

"Doesn't he like you to drink?" Janet asked.

"No " said Doan. "I got maudlin once when I was crocked and kissed him. He's never forgotten it. Every time he smells alcohol, he starts acting like he just bit into a lemon. He's intolerant. It's a serious defect in his character."

"Mr. Doan," said Mrs. Henshaw severely, "don't annoy Mr. Greg. He is mourning Miss Van Osdel."

"Are you?" Doan asked him.

"No," said Greg. "I'm trying to think of the name of a girl I met in London last summer. Her father owns a glue factory.