"Dee Dee"

Front matter

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Bonk

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PART II The Following Days

I.

. 177

II.

The Current Strengthens .

III.

. 210

IV.

. 227

V.

. 237

VI.

Rapids.

. 251

VII.

. 266

VIII.

. 283

IX.

Clearing ....

. 295

X.

. . 308 f

PART I

The First Day

“DEE DEE”

CHAPTER I “Well, I’ll bed-d!”

Having thus audibly condemned himself to perdition, Morrissy proceeded to re-read, with greater care, the letter which had drawn the aforesaid ejaculation from him. After doing which he gave expression to his aston¬ ishment by the further remark, “That does beat the devil.”

His heavy hand, to which swinging a night stick “ on the beat” in years gone by had imparted unusual strength, shot out. A spatulate forefinger descended with force and precision upon an electric button attached to his desk. A door opened in answer to the mechanical sum¬ mons, but before the officer who appeared in the opening could cross the threshold Morrissy snapped out, “ Send Daley in here.” The door closed on a half-completed salute. System and speed were two of the things upon which he laid particular stress in the department. Yet neither was in particular evidence during the next few moments as Police Inspector James Morrissy leaned back in his chair and drummed an irritated tattoo on the desk with his fingertips, meanwhile regarding the recently 3

DEE DEE ”

opened letter with a puzzled, almost hostile, expression on his matter-of-fact face.

“ Sherlock Holmes’ stuff,” he muttered, half aloud, in a scoffing tone. “I’ve got enough everyday sort of prob¬ lems to puzzle over, without bothering my brain over

this. And yet-” He always referred to the popular

hero of detective romance sarcastically, not that he lacked imagination of a kind, but because he felt—per¬ haps with justification—that in dealing with modern criminology a businesslike system was of far greater importance than individual genius.

Yet when his assistant appeared, a few moments later, he tossed him the offending letter and, in mock Sherlockian manner, inquired, “ ‘What d’you make of that, Watson?’ ”

Daley’s Irish-blue eyes scanned the typewritten lines casually. Then he whistled softly through his front teeth, one of which had been broken half off in some melee, and remarked, “Well, I’ll be d-dl”

“Be something original, can’t you? I said that. Yes, and did that, too.” The newcomer was holding the single sheet of paper up to the light, inquisitively. “It’s the same—same watermark and other earmarks. Only this time our mysterious friend goes a step farther than in the past—or contrariwise. He doesn’t give us any hint as to why we should do it; just politely requests. This is highly intriguing, as the society dames would say. Read it aloud, Dan. There may be something I missed the first two times.”

Daley cleared his throat and obeyed in an embarrassed voice with more than a bit of a brogue.

“ ‘Inspector James Morrissy,

Police Headquarters, City.

My dear Sir:

I feel that I may have been of some slight assistance to your department in its investigation of certain crimi¬ nal cases, during recent years—at least I flatter myself that some of the suggestions which I have taken the lib¬ erty of making, in writing, have been followed out with favorable results.

If I am correct in my assumption that I may have been instrumental in aiding you in the solution of some of the so-called “mysteries” to which I refer, I trust that you may be inclined to accept a suggestion from me relative to a case which is now engaging your attention—that of the murder, last night, of Mr. Sewell Sommes. At the moment it may seem to be rather a destructive than a constructive suggestion, but I am convinced that it is really the latter.

Your men found it necessary to arrest Miss Wil¬ loughby. That was natural, and possibly inevitable, but it was an error. I can give you most positive assur¬ ance that her story was in every respect true; that she knows nothing about the killing of her guardian, and was in no respect a party to it.’ ”

Daley interrupted his reading to examine the paper closely and from various angles, interpolating the re¬ mark, “Looks like he first wrote ‘Connected wid,’ there; erased it afterwards and changed the worrds to ‘a party to.’ He was in a hurry, and didn’t use the care thot the rist of the letter shows.”

“DEE DEE ”

“And which might be called meticulous,” agreed the Inspector, nodding with a smile of appreciation in his steely gray eyes.

“Maybe so. I ain’t much on them two-dollar worrds.” He continued,

“ 7 / I can assume that you favorably remember my anonymous connection with previous cases , it is my sin¬ cere hope that you will follow, in this instance, my sug¬ gestion that Miss Willoughby be released immediately, and that you commence a search for the real murderer, elsewhere, since every moment lost may make the hunt more difficult .

For my own part I cheerfully promise to do every¬ thing in my power to assist you in arriving at the true solution of this shocking crime, if my advice is followed

And he signs it, as per usual, wid the letter ‘X’,” Daley concluded.

“Yes. ‘X,’ the unknown quantity. Well, there you are—can you beat that?”

“Not wid the hand I hold, on the deal. Are you goin’ to do it, Chief? Set the gurrl free, I mane?” the other countered.

“What would you suggest?”

“D-d ’f I know.” Daley meditatively scratched

his head, which was thatched with a thick and curly mop of carrot-colored hair. “How can we—bearin’ in mind all the ividence, I’m askin’ you? Of course it’s all cir¬ cumstantial, I grant you thot, but if ’twas a man instead of a pritty gurrl ’twould be a plinty to sind him up for life, I’m thinkin’. And would the District Attorney agree to doin’ it—I dunno. On the ither hand-”

He stopped and shook his head with the same puzzled expression on his countenance which Morrissy had worn a few moments earlier. “There’s this to be said. The mysterious ‘X’ ain’t been wrong on a single wan of his tips, yet —and us Irish are kind of superstitious by nature.”

“I know. If it weren’t for that fact I’d toss the letter into the waste basket and call him another nut—one of the kind that makes fools of themselves over society murderers.”

“Oh, sure.”

The Inspector resumed drumming with his heavy fingertips. Finally he said, half apologetically, “I’ve almost a mind to take a chance, as a token of our faith in our mysterious friend, Danny, my boy. A hint to the D. A. that we aren’t as confident as we thought we were and were working on a new line, would do the trick. If the Coroner’s jury get a fair look at Miss Willoughby they’re more than likely to bring in a verdict of death ‘by the hand of person or persons unknown,’ anyway. Of course we could continue to keep her under strict surveil¬ lance, and re-arrest her if any more direct evidence is uncovered—we haven’t any definite motive to show, yet.”

“Maybe not. But are you forgettin’ where she was found and how she was dressed?”

“Certainly not. She gives a reasonable explanation of that, though. And he writes that he can vouch for the fact that she told us the truth. Which brings us back to this letter. Ordinarily I’d let the case take its usual

“ DEE DEE ”

course, but this gives it a new aspect. I’m not naturally superstitious, like you, but hanged if I haven’t a feeling that he’s right, again, and that she’s innocent. Call it a hunch if you like.”

“More likely I’d call it bein’ the soft-hearted auld gintleman thot you are,” answered his subordinate with a frank grin. They were close friends. “She’s a blamed pretty kid in a peck of trouble.”

“Thanks for the compliment. That’s the first time I’ve ever been called soft-hearted. I guess that twenty years in the Police Department have taught me, right enough, that neither sex, looks, age, nor social position has any bearing on innocence or guilt—although it’s darned hard to convince a jury of twelve good men and true that that’s so. And I don’t think that I’m getting soft-headed, either, even if I do decide to play a hunch. The case against the Willoughby girl looks strong, but the evidence is circumstantial, and I’ve seen cases like this go up—puff—in smoke too many times before now to feel sure that we’ve got the right pig by the ear-”

“Sow,” Daley corrected, but the other continued with¬ out deigning to notice the flippant interruption, “—and now along comes ‘X’ and tells us flatly that we’re barking up the wrong tree, and wasting valuable time, doing it. He-”

“Maybe so,” broke in the other, and continued in an aggrieved tone, “but, good Lord, Chief, I had to arrist her, didn’t I? Look at the circumstances.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you—would have fired you from the force if you hadn’t brought her in last night. Just the same her story-”

“Is O. K. as far as it goes, but she’s holdin’ somethin’ back on us. You know that. And there’s this to be said, Chief. In addition to the ividence, which all points wan way—towards her—and her refusal to tell us more, by doin’ which she might disclose a motive, the Depart¬ ment’s sittin’ pretty wid the public, now, but where would we be if we turn the only suspect loose? Straight¬ way we’d have anither murder mystery on our hands, and the Press’d be about us like a pack o’ blood-thirsty wolves agin. They’re howlin’ for a victim, already. Why give up wan until we have found a substitute? Times a-plinty they’ve had us on the grill for a bunch of boneheads, as it is.”

“The Press be d-d!” exploded the Inspector, flush¬

ing angrily.

“ ’Twas always a red rag to wan bull I know of,” mur¬ mured Daley with his blue eyes twinkling.

Morrissy laughed shortly. “I might have known that you were talking to hear yourself talk. You’re the soft¬ hearted one, Dan—incorrigibly so. Of course we’re not after a victim, but the real murderer, yet there’s a good deal of truth in what you just said, to get my goat, and I’d be strongly inclined to let matters rest as they are, except for one thing.”

“Manin’ this here letter, is it?”

“Exactly. If we see to it that she’s released no par¬ ticular harm can come of it, but if we ignore this hint we may kill the goose that has been laying golden eggs for us, and asking no pay for them. To tell the truth, Dan, I’d be pretty nearly willing to set this Willoughby girl free without any strings on her—yes, even if I thought

“DEE DEE ”

that she was guilty, if by doing that I could discover the identity of this ‘X’ and tie him up to us. What would one more black mark against the Department count, if we could secure the services of such a detective as he must be, whether he’s an amateur or pro; crazy or canny! He’s scored a bull’s-eye every time, so far, and it’s got my goat for fair. I lay awake nights trying to puzzle him out, but there’s nothing doing.”

“You’ve said it—and I’m thinkin’ thot you’ve said the likes of it before,” replied Daley, grinning through the blue-gray haze, for both men had lighted pipes and were smoking furiously. “We’ve tried to guess the answer to him, times enough, but ’tis no go. Wan thing’s certain sure, though. If he’s ‘on the inside’ wid an assorted bunch of criminals, he’s the quarest stool-pigeon thot ever I heard tell of—handin’ out the dope on his pals, free gratis for nothin’.”

“Oh, you can dismiss that idea from your head— there’s nothing in it.” •

“Manin’ the idea, or the head?” laughed the other, but Morrissy remained serious. “His communications read, as though they might have been written by an old college

professor- I wonder if there could be a ‘master

mind’ in deduction, outside of romantic novels; an actual Sherlock Holmes and one who plays the game for the fun of the thing. No, I don’t believe it. Then there’s

clairvoyancy- Only I don’t believe in that, either,”

he continued, musingly.

“Well, I dunno, but at least there’s this to be said agin thot, in the prisint case. Who iver heard of a clairvoyant takin’ particular pains not to advertise him- or herself?”

scoffed Daley. “No. More like it’s a nut or a genius— they’re a good deal alike—but I’d give a guess that he ain’t old.”

Daley was studying the letter again.

“Going in for scientific deduction yourself, eh? Well, let’s hear the results of your deep study. If science can reconstruct a prehistoric monster from one fossil tooth, as I’ve read, a bright young detective like you should be able to do as much for a living man from the half-adozen letters that he has written us. Your Sherlock Holmes would be able to give his exact age and the color of his eyes from that evidence.”

Daley grinned, but accepted the challenge, half in jest, half in earnest, for he had a boyish pride in his powers of observation and deduction. “Well, thin, I say ’tis a man and a youngish wan—you’ll mark thot the impres¬ sion of the type is heavy and a bit irregular as well. He’s a ‘two-finger’ operator who uses the Hunt & Find system, although a fairly speedy wan, for at least three times he’s piled his keys. I’d set him down for a professional man of some sort, who writes a good bit pro se. As I recall the other letters they were similar to this wan—all written by wan hand, so to spake, although the ‘hand’ is a portable typewriter of a popular make and wan that’s been used considerable, too. Some of the type is chipped a bit, you’ll notice.”

Although Morrissy scoffed he was listening with a good deal more interest than he allowed himself to show, for he had picked Daley himself and was justly proud of the ability which the youngest member of the Bureau of Criminal Investigation had already displayed.

“DEE DEE ”

“Well, thin,” continued the speaker, his brow slightly puckered up—a physical sign of his mental concentra¬ tion which made him unconscious of the other’s smiling regard. “The paper’s a plain bond, business letter size, and of fairly expensive quality—I found, once, that it costs two bucks and a half a ream, and the likes of it can be bought at almost anny stationery store. He always uses plain stamped envelopes, and mails the letters in wan of the downtown drop boxes. This time he was particularly anxious for us to get it in a hurry, and put on a special delivery stamp. Not much nourishment for a would-be Sherlock Holmes in thot , maybe, but I’d make wan deduction—thot wan of his eyelids has a slight droop.’’

Morrissy did not get it immediately and raised his eye¬ brows in interrogation.

“That ginerally happens whin a guy is winkin’ at you,” the other supplemented, with a chuckle.

“Only this is obviously no joke. Besides, he handed us the straight goods in all the other cases, setting us right when we were on the wrong trail—or lost entirely. Let’s see how many times-?”

“Six or siven, annyhow. By the way, how did you come to fall for his suggestion, the first time, Chief? We git anonymous communications a-plinty, but-”

“And don’t we always try to investigate them all, even though they’re generally written by cranks, or sent in as blinds—attempts to drag a red herring across the trail? Sure we do. Of course when I had gone at the case from the angle he suggested the first time, and found that he was right, I naturally paid more attention to the next, and the next. Now I’d give a month’s salary to lay my hands on that bird, Dan.”

“Me, too. And—by St. Patrick, here’s our chance / I’ve got a hunch, and I belave in playin’ wan for all it’s worth. We’ve got the bait to land that fish right in the auld tin can, or I’m a sheeny. Whativer else he is, wan thing’s sure—he’s more than common interested in this Sommes case, or the Willoughby gurrl herself, more like. And we don’t have to cherchez the femme —we’ve got her, safe and sound. All thot we need to do, now, is inform that ‘X’ guy that if he’ll come out of his hole and personally make known to the Department the rayson for his peculiar request it’ll probably be granted. Otherwise, nothin’ doin’! Thot’ll fetch him, or you can call me the short and ugly name.”

“I had about come to the same conclusion, Danny. Great minds, et cetera . But how would you go about it?” The Inspector’s active brain had already formed a plan, but he wanted to try out his protege a little further.

“Sure thot’s aisy. Use our auld inimy, The Press.”

“And have the reporters jump on our necks, and charge us with conniving to defeat justice? They’ve got the girl as good as hanged, already.”

“I know. Confound Clancy for spillin’ the whole story to the newspaper b’ys last night. But you just lave ’em to me, Chief—I’ll kid ’em to a fare-ye-well, look wise and hint at a more mysterious mystery for thim to spill ink over, hereafter. Like enough ’twill be the truth, too, which always makes a lie worth double. All I’ll have to say is thot we’ve got hold of some new information, the exact nature of which can’t be divulged quite yit, but

“DEE DEE ”

thot we promise to let thim in on it at the first possible moment. That’ll be the cat’s meow for thim.”

“All right. But how will you get it across?”

“Well, there’s the Agony Column, of course. I thought of thot, first, but the likes of him wouldn’t see a notice there, probably, and annyway I’ve got an idea thot beats thot a mile. We won’t even make an ad of it—’twill be News, spelled wid a capital N. I’ll git the b’ys to box the item at the head of their stories for the after¬ noon edition, so big thot a blind man couldn’t help seein’ it. Lave me have a sheet o’ paper and a bit of a pencil, Chief.”

The Inspector passed them to him, and he set to work, his burly form hunched over the desk and tongue appar¬ ently playing an important part in the formation of the words, for, although Daley was keenly intelligent, he had small book-learning, since his education had been chiefly acquired in the School of the Streets, with a finishing course in the well-known College of Hard Knocks.

“There!” he exclaimed, triumphantly, as he concluded his labors, and shoved the paper back across to his superior. “How’s thot for lit’rachoor? If we do release the Willoughby gurrl, immediate, this gives us a loop¬ hole to crawl out of—we acted as the result of secret information given us by the ‘X’ of this ad. See?”

“The idea’s good enough to try out, anyway, Dan. Well, hop to it. We want it in type and on the street without any delay.”

********

Thus it came about that the noon edition of every city paper carried, at the head of its front page story retelling

—with embellishments—the story of the murder of Sewell Sommes, millionaire, a curiosity-inciting item, heavily leaded and prominently boxed, which read thus:

IF “x” WILL CALL AT POLICE HEADQUAR¬ TERS AND MAKE KNOWN TO THE INSPECTOR HIS REASONS FOR THE REQUEST CONTAINED IN LETTER RECEIVED FROM HIM TODAY IT WILL PROBABLY BE COMPLIED WITH AT ONCE. OTHERWISE IT WILL NOT!

Chapter II

“But she didn’t do it! I know she didn’t.”

The speaker wrung her thin, gloved hands together and her lips quivered pitiably as she tried to control her anguish. Tears trembled on her eyelids and there were traces of previous weeping on her cheeks, now pale and a little lined and sunken, but still bearing the marks of exceptional prettiness, fifteen or twenty years previous.

“There, there, ma’am, I ain’t sayin’ thot she did—only thot she was still under arrest for havin’ done it, which ain’t necessarily the same thing at all, at all,” answered Daley, who retained in full his Irish capacity for sym¬ pathy, despite his calling. “Come now, don’t take on so. You don’t look well, yoursilf, and there’s no sort o’ sinse in workin’ yourself all up over this, as like enough ’twill all come out in the wash, so to spake. I had to arrist her, but—to tell the truth—I’ve a hunch that we won’t be kapin’ her long, if that’ll make you feel anny better. There’s somethin’ new turned up—but niver mind about thot, now.”

“And you’ll let me see her? Oh, I must see her.”

“Sure, there’ll be no objection to thot,” Daley an¬ swered, heartily. “But first you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions? Thot’s right. Housekaper for Mr. Sommes you was, thin?”

“Yes. I’ve been—I was in the household, first as 16 nurse for the children, and later as housekeeper, for nearly twenty years. I’m practically the only ‘mother’ that Miss Anne has ever known, you see, and-”

“Of course. Under them circumstances ’tis natural

thot you’d feel terribul about it, Mrs.-! Miss Nancy

Newell, is it, thin?”

“Yes. Oh, please can’t I see my baby?”

“In jest a minute,” answered Daley, soothingly. “You weren’t wid the other servants at the Sommes’ risidence last night, were you, now?”

“No, sir. I’ve not been really well for some years— it’s my heart. I usually take a little vacation in the spring, and for the past fortnight I have been staying with my sister’s family in Jersey. I read in the morning paper of the—the murder, and my little Anne’s arrest, and came here as fast as I could, to comfort and help free her, only-”

“I see. Well, maybe you can help, at thot. There’s a number of things that need clearin’ up and you may know the answers. What paper have you there—the Star f is it? D’ye moind if I glance over the story in it and see how much thot darned Johnson got and how much he guessed? I’ve got to hand it to him. Day and night he’s everlastin’ly on the job waitin’ for a news story to break, and by hook or crook on the spot whin it does—which makes him a good reporter, I suppose. But he’s a trrouble maker for us, all the same. He got into the Sommes’ place at the same toime the police did, somehow, and I didn’t spot him—among the servants— until he’d seen and heard most of what wint on.”

Daley took the sensational journal from Miss Newell,

“DEE DEE ”

who had been twisting and crumpling it, nervously, for many minutes, and hastily ran through the featured story, beside which appeared the pictures of the two prin¬ cipals. It ran as follows:

MILLIONAIRE MURDERED!

Sewell Sommes, Noted Financier, Shot Dead His Beautiful Ward, Anne Willoughby, Jailed

“Grim tragedy paid a call at the home of one of the city’s social leaders last night. Today Sewell Sommes, millionaire broker and popular clubman, lies dead in the library of his palatial residence on Bellevue Avenue and his beautiful ward, Anne Willoughby, whom he had reared from infancy, is in jail, suspected of the murder of her benefactor. Sommes was shot to death at exactly twenty-seven minutes past one, this morning—the time being established by the victim’s own costly chronometer, which was smashed and stopped as he fell forward across his table desk when struck by the fatal shot, fired from Anne Willoughby’s pearl-handled target pistol.”

At this point Daley interrupted his reading to grunt, “Huh. So the fox learned thot, too, in spite of me havin’ kicked him out of the house. Bet he wormed it out of wan of the maids. Where there’s a lady there’s a leak.” He continued his perusal:

“Since her formal ‘coming out,’ three years ago, Anne Willoughby has been one of the most popular members of the social set. She graduated from Smith College only a week ago and returned home to take her acknowl¬ edged place as a leader in the younger society of the city, the envied of many, for not only is she an extremely beautiful brunette, a notable athlete, a delightful singer, a leader in religious activities, but the possessor of marked grace and personal charm. Yet this morning society shuddered at the knowledge that the shadowy finger of suspicion pointed to her as a criminal, through the prison bars.”

“Rot!” muttered Daley. “And they get paid extra for drivvel like thot!”

“The first news of the tragedy was telephoned to Po¬ lice Headquarters only a few moments after it occurred, by the Sommes’ butler, John Williams, who had faith¬ fully served his dead master for nearly a quarter of a century and who had then no suspicion that his beloved young mistress would be implicated therein. She denies her guilt, but the evidence is black against her, at present.

“Officer Clancy was immediately dispatched to the scene of the crime, and Assistant Inspector Daley—who has recently achieved marked success as a member of the Criminal Investigation Bureau—was notified at his home, the two reaching the Sommes’ residence almost simultaneously together with the representative of this paper.”

“Yes, but Clancy got there a minute ahead, worse luck. If he hadn’t, Johnson wouldn’t have been ‘among those prisint’,” interpolated the reader.

“A frightened group of servants stood, huddled to¬ gether, in the upper hallway, just outside the door of Mr. Sommes’ luxurious study-library, which connects with his bedroom, and where many a masterpiece of finance has been planned in the silent hours of the night, for he was ever a notably late retirer. Within the room, now softly illuminated by a system of indirect lighting,

“DEE DEE ”

but in the brighter glare from a green-shaded desk lamp which beat full upon him, lay the millionaire, face down¬ ward across the desk—dead. He was fully clad in eve¬ ning clothes except for substitution of a rich, marooncolored dressing gown of velvet for his coat. His right arm was flung out as if in a futile attempt to ward off Death. Almost beneath his clutching hand lay an open check¬ book, and the ink from a gold-mounted pen had mingled with the blood which, flowing from the bullet wound in his left breast, stained his immaculate shirt front and the no less white blotter.”

“Sure, but he’s a divil for detail, and I’ve got to hand it to him there,” announced Daley, half aloud.

“It seemed as though his last mortal thought had been that which had engaged his attention so completely and effectively during his life—money.

“The butler’s story was to the effect that a little after one-thirty he had been awakened by a woman’s piercing screams, coming from the front part of the house, his own room being on the second floor in an ell at the rear. The other servants sleep on the floor above, two in a room, and were not aroused until later. He recognized the voice as that of his mistress, Miss Willoughby, and hastened to find out what was wrong.

“As he ran down the hall he observed that the door to her bedroom was open, as was that to Mr. Sommes’ study, in which the electric lights were burning. On entering this apartment the first object upon which his eyes fell was Anne Willoughby, cowering against the wall near the entrance. She was clad only in her night¬ gown-”

“Which probably makes a better story, but ain’t the whole truth,” thought the detective. “Williams stated that she had on a kimono thing, wid her bare feet slipped into hood war slippers.”

“—with her wonderful dark hair in two long, thick braids down her back. Her pallid face was covered by her hands and her slender form was shaken with choking sobs.”

“Sure, he’d ought to be writing dime novels—the kind that nowadays sell for two bucks,” said Daley, not with¬ out admiration.

“ ‘What is the matter, Miss Anne? What are you doing here at this time of night and dressed like that?’ Williams demanded, but before she could answer he caught sight of his master, lying as has been described. He hastened to him, but, realizing that he was past human aid, had the presence of mind to refrain from even touching the body. In another moment Miss Wil¬ loughby regained sufficient control of herself to answer his questions, and said at first, in a dazed sort of way, that she did not know how she came to be there.

“Shortly, however, she accounted for her presence in the room by saying that she had not been sleeping well, being mentally disturbed, and that she had been awak¬ ened from a half-slumber by hearing what sounded like a revolver shot. She had not been sure whether it was real or something heard in a dream, so she arose, looked out of the window first, and then went and opened her bedroom door.

“According to her story there was no light in the hall, but she thought that she heard the sound of groans com¬ ing from her guardian’s study and she ran thither. The door was open and the room in darkness, she declared, but sufficient moonlight shone in through the window, beside which the desk stood, so that she was able to dimly make out Mr. Sommes’ prostrate form as she crossed the