The Roman hat mystery 15Part 1 · In Which the Hat Grows
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Roman hat mystery 15
Part 1 · In Which the Hat Grows
QueenEnglish
On Thursday, September 27th, the third morning after the events of the crime in the Roman Theatre, Inspector Queen and Ellery rose at an early hour and dressed hastily. They repaired to a makeshift breakfast under the protesting eye of Djuna, who had been pulled bodily from his bed and thrust into the sober habiliments which he affected as major-domo of the Queen ménage.
While they were munching at anæmic pancakes, the old man asked Djuna to get Louis Panzer on the telephone.
In a few moments the Inspector was speaking genially into the mouthpiece. “Good morning, Panzer. Please forgive me for hauling you out of bed at this ungodly time of the morning.... There’s something important in the wind and we need your help.”
Panzer murmured a sleepy reassurance.
“Can you come down to the Roman Theatre right away and open it for us?” went on the old man. “I told you that you wouldn’t be shut down very long and now it looks as if you’ll be able to cash in on the publicity the affair has been getting. I’m not sure when we can reopen, you understand, but it’s barely possible that you’ll be able to put your show on to-night. Can I count on you?”
“This is excellent!” Panzer’s voice came over the wire in a tremulous eagerness. “Do you want me to come down to the theatre at once? I’ll be there in a half-hour—I’m not dressed.”
“That will be fine,” returned Queen. “Of course, Panzer—no one is to be allowed inside yet. Wait for us on the sidewalk before you use your keys and don’t notify any one, either. We’ll talk it all over at the theatre.... Just a moment.”
He clamped the mouthpiece against his chest and looked up inquiringly at Ellery, who was gesturing frantically. Ellery formed his lips around the syllables of a name and the old man nodded approvingly. He spoke into the telephone again.
“There’s one other thing you can do for me at present, Panzer,” he continued. “Can you get hold of that nice old lady, Mrs. Phillips? I’d like to have her meet us at the theatre as soon as she can.”
“Certainly, Inspector. If it’s at all possible,” said Panzer. Queen replaced the receiver on its hook.
“Well, that’s that,” he remarked, rubbing his hands together and delving into his pocket for the snuff-box. “Ah-h-h! Bless Sir Walter and all those hardy pioneers who championed the cause of the filthy weed!” He sneezed joyously. “One minute, Ellery, then we’ll go.”
He picked up the telephone once more and called detective headquarters. He gave a few cheery orders, banged the instrument back on the table and hustled Ellery into his coat. Djuna watched them leave with a mournful expression: he had often pleaded with the Inspector to be allowed to accompany the Queens on their sporadic excursions into the byways of New York. The Inspector, who had his own ideas on the subject of rearing adolescents, invariably refused. And Djuna, who regarded his patron much as the Stone-Age man regarded his amulets, accepted the inevitable and hoped for a more auspicious future.
It was a raw, wet day. Ellery and his father turned up their coat-collars as they walked towards Broadway and the subway. Both were extraordinarily taciturn, but the keen anticipatory looks on their faces—so curiously alike and yet so different—portended an exciting and revealing day.
Broadway and its threaded canyons were deserted in the chill wind of the morning as the two men walked briskly down 47th Street towards the Roman Theatre. A drab-coated man lounged on the sidewalk before the closed glass doors of the lobby; another leaned comfortably against the high iron fence which cut off the left alley from the street. The dumpy form of Louis Panzer was visible standing before the central door of the theatre, in conversation with Flint.
Panzer shook hands excitedly. “Well, well!” he cried. “So the ban is to be lifted at last!... Exceedingly happy to hear that, Inspector.”
“Oh, it isn’t exactly lifted, Panzer,” smiled the old man. “Have you the keys? Morning, Flint. Rest up any since Monday night?”
Panzer produced a heavy bunch of keys and unlocked the central door of the lobby. The four men filed in. The swarthy manager fumbled with the lock of the inside door and finally managed to swing it open. The dark interior of the orchestra yawned in their faces.
Ellery shivered. “With the possible exceptions of the Metropolitan Opera House and Titus’ Tomb, this is the most dismal theatorium I’ve ever entered. It’s a fitting mausoleum for the dear departed....”
The more prosaic Inspector grunted as he pushed his son into the maw of the dark orchestra. “Get along with you! You’ll be giving us all the ‘willies.’”
Panzer, who had hurried ahead, turned on the main electric switch. The auditorium leaped into more familiar outlines by the light of the big arcs and chandeliers. Ellery’s fanciful comparison was not so fantastic as his father had made it appear. The long rows of seats were draped with dirty tarpaulin; murky shadows streaked across the carpets, already dusty; the bare whitewashed wall at the rear of the empty stage made an ugly splotch in the sea of red plush.
“Sorry to see that tarpaulin there,” grumbled the Inspector to Panzer. “Because it will have to be rolled up. We’re going to conduct a little personal search of the orchestra. Flint, get those two men outside, please. They may as well do something to earn the City’s money.”
Flint sped away and returned shortly with the two detectives who had been on guard outside the theatre. Under the Inspector’s direction they began to haul the huge sheets of rubberized seat-covers to the sides, disclosing rows of cushioned chairs. Ellery, standing to one side near the extreme left aisle, withdrew from his pocket the little book in which he had scribbled notes and drawn a rough map of the theatre on Monday night. He was studying this and biting his underlip. Occasionally he looked up as if to verify the lay-out of the theatre.
Queen bustled back to where Panzer was nervously pacing the rear. “Panzer, we’re going to be mighty busy here for a couple of hours and I was too short-sighted to bring extra men with me. I wonder if I may impose upon you.... I have something in mind that requires immediate attention—it would take only a small part of your time and it would help me considerably.”
“Of course, Inspector!” returned the little manager. “I’m only too glad to be of assistance.”
The Inspector coughed. “Please don’t feel that I’m using you as an errand-boy or anything like that, old man,” he explained apologetically. “But I need these fellows, who are trained in searches of this kind—and at the same time I must have some vital data from a couple of the District Attorney’s men who are working downtown on another aspect of the case. Would you mind taking a note for me to one of them—name of Cronin—and bring back the parcel he gives you? I hate to ask you to do this, Panzer,” he muttered. “But it’s too important to trust to an ordinary messenger, and—ding it all! I’m in a hole.”
Panzer smiled in his quick birdlike fashion. “Not another word, Inspector. I’m entirely at your service. I’ve the materials in my office if you care to write the note now.”
The two men retired to Panzer’s office. Five minutes later they reëntered the auditorium. Panzer held a sealed envelope in his hand and hurried out into the street. Queen watched him go, then turned with a sigh to Ellery, who had perched himself on the arm of the seat in which Field had been murdered and was still consulting the penciled map.
The Inspector whispered a few words to his son. Ellery smiled and clapped the old man vigorously on the back.
“What do you say we get a move on, son?” said Queen. “I forgot to ask Panzer if he had succeeded in reaching this Mrs. Phillips. I guess he did, though, or he would have said something about it. Where in thunder is she?”
He beckoned to Flint, who was helping the other two detectives in the back-breaking task of removing the tarpaulin.
“I’ve one of those popular bending-exercises for you this morning, Flint. Go up to the balcony and get busy.”
“What am I supposed to be looking for to-day, Inspector?” grinned the broad-shouldered detective. “Because I hope I have better luck than I did Monday night.”
“You’re looking for a hat—a nice, shiny top-piece such as the swells wear, my boy,” announced the Inspector. “But if you should come across anything else, use your lungs!” Flint trotted up the wide marble staircase towards the balcony. Queen looked after him, shaking his head. “I’m afraid the poor lad is doomed to another disappointment,” he remarked to Ellery. “But I must make absolutely certain that there’s nothing up there—and that the usher Miller who was guarding the balcony staircase Monday night was telling the truth. Come along, lazybones.”
Ellery shed his topcoat reluctantly and tucked the little book away in his pocket. The Inspector wriggled out of his ulster and preceded his son down the aisle. Working side by side they began to search the orchestra-pit at the extreme end of the auditorium. Finding nothing there, they clambered out into the orchestra again and, Ellery taking the right side and his father the left, began a slow, methodical combing of the theatre-premises. They lifted the seats; probed experimentally into the plush cushions with long needles which the Inspector had produced mysteriously from his breast-pocket; and kneeled to examine every inch of the carpet by the light of electric torches.
The two detectives who had by now completed the task of rolling up the tarpaulin began, on the Inspector’s brief command, to work through the boxes, a man to each side of the theatre.
For a long time the four men proceeded in silence, unbroken except for the somewhat labored breathing of Inspector Queen. Ellery was working swiftly and efficiently, the old man more slowly. As they met near the center after completing the search of a row, they would regard each other significantly, shake their heads and continue afresh.
About twenty minutes after Panzer’s departure the Inspector and Ellery, absorbed in their examination, were startled by the ringing of a telephone bell. In the silence of the theatre the clear trill of the bell rang out with astonishing sharpness. Father and son looked at each other blankly for an instant, then the old man laughed and plodded up the aisle in the direction of Panzer’s office.
He returned shortly, smiling. “It was Panzer,” he announced. “Got down to Field’s office and found the place closed. No wonder—it’s only a quarter of nine. But I told him to wait there until Cronin comes. It can’t be long now.”
Ellery laughed and they set to work again.
Fifteen minutes later, when the two men were almost finished, the front door opened and a small elderly woman dressed in black stood blinking in the brilliant arc-lights. The Inspector sprang forward to meet her.
“You’re Mrs. Phillips, aren’t you?” he cried warmly. “It’s mighty nice of you to come so soon, madam. I think you know Mr. Queen here?”
Ellery came forward, smiling one of his rare smiles and bowing with genuine gallantry. Mrs. Phillips was representative of a lovable old womanhood. She was short and of motherly proportions. Her gleaming white hair and air of kindliness endeared her immediately to Inspector Queen, who had a sentimental weakness for middle-aged ladies of presence.
“I certainly do know Mr. Queen,” she said, extending her hand. “He was very nice to an old woman Monday night.... And I was so afraid you’d have to wait for me, sir!” she said softly, turning to the Inspector. “Mr. Panzer sent a messenger for me this morning—I haven’t a telephone, you see. There was a time, when I was on the stage.... I came just as soon as I could.”
The Inspector beamed. “For a lady it was remarkably prompt, remarkably prompt, Mrs. Phillips!”
“My father kissed the Blarney Stone several centuries ago, Mrs. Phillips,” said Ellery gravely. “Don’t believe a word av ’im.... I suppose it will be au fait if I leave you to tackle the rest of the orchestra, dad? I’d like to have a little chat with Mrs. Phillips. Do you think you’re physically able to complete the job alone?”
“Physically able—!” snorted the Inspector. “You plump right down that aisle and go about your business, son.... I should appreciate your giving Mr. Queen all the help you can, Mrs. Phillips.”
The white-haired lady smiled and Ellery, taking her arm, led her off in the direction of the stage. Inspector Queen, looking after them wistfully, shrugged his shoulders after a moment and turned back to resume the search. A short time later, when he chanced to straighten up, he espied Ellery and Mrs. Phillips seated on the stage conversing earnestly, like two players rehearsing their rôles. Queen proceeded slowly up and down the rows, weaving in and out among the empty seats, shaking his head dolefully as he approached the last few rows still empty-handed. When he looked up again the two chairs on the stage held no occupants. Ellery and the old lady had disappeared.
Queen came at last to LL32 Left—the seat in which Monte Field had died. He made a painstaking examination of the cushions, a light of resignation in his eyes. Muttering to himself he walked slowly across the carpet at the rear of the theatre and entered Panzer’s office. A few moments later he reappeared, only to make his way to the cubicle which was used as an office by the publicity man, Harry Neilson. He was in this compartment for some time. He came out and visited the cashiers’ offices. Shutting the door behind him when he had finished, he wended his way down the steps on the right of the theatre leading to the general lounge, on the floor below the orchestra. Here he took his time, delving into every corner, every niche in the wall, every waste-container—all of which he found to be empty. He speculatively eyed the large bin standing directly under the water-fountain. He peered into this receptacle and pottered away, finding nothing. Thereupon with a sigh he opened the door on which was gilt-lettered, ladies’ rest room, and went inside. A few moments later he reappeared to push his way through the swinging-doors marked gentlemen.
When his meticulous search of the lower floor was completed he trudged up the steps again. In the orchestra he found Louis Panzer waiting, slightly flushed from his exertions but displaying a triumphant smile. The little manager was carrying a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.
“So you saw Cronin after all, Panzer?” said the Inspector, scurrying forward. “This is mighty nice of you, my boy—I appreciate it more than I can say. Is this the package Cronin gave you?”
“It is. A very nice chap, Cronin. I didn’t have to wait long after I telephoned you. He came in with two other men named Stoates and Lewin. He didn’t keep me more than ten minutes altogether. I hope it was important, Inspector?” Panzer continued, smiling. “I should like to feel that I’ve been instrumental in clearing up part of the puzzle.”
“Important?” echoed the Inspector, taking the parcel from the manager’s hand. “You have no idea how important it is. Some day I’ll tell you more about it.... Will you excuse me a moment, Panzer?”
The little man nodded in a fleeting disappointment as the Inspector grinned, backing off into a dark corner. Panzer shrugged and disappeared into his office.
When he came out, hat and coat left behind, the Inspector was stuffing the parcel into his pocket.
“Did you get what you wanted, sir?” inquired Panzer.
“Oh, yes, yes, indeed!” Queen said, rubbing his hands. “And now—I see Ellery is still gone—suppose we go into your office for a few minutes and while away the time until he returns.”
They went into Panzer’s sanctum and sat down. The manager lit a long Turkish cigarette while the Inspector dipped into his snuff-box.
“If I’m not presuming, Inspector,” said Panzer casually, crossing his short fat legs and emitting a cloud of smoke, “how are things going?”
Queen shook his head sadly. “Not so well—not so well. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere with the main angles of the case. In fact, I don’t mind telling you that unless we get on the track of a certain object we face failure.... It’s pretty hard on me—I’ve never encountered a more puzzling investigation.” He wore a worried frown as he snapped the lid of his snuff-box shut.
“That’s too bad, Inspector,” Panzer clucked in sympathy. “And I was hoping—Ah, well! We can’t put our personal concerns above the demands of justice, I suppose! Just what is it you are seeking, Inspector, if you don’t mind telling an outsider?”
Queen brightened. “Not at all. You’ve done me a good turn this morning and—By jingo, how stupid of me not to think of this before!” Panzer leaned forward eagerly. “How long have you been manager of the Roman Theatre, Panzer?”
The manager raised his eyebrows. “Ever since it was built,” he said. “Before that I managed the old Electra on 43rd Street—it is also owned by Gordon Davis,” he explained.
“Oh!” The Inspector seemed to reflect deeply. “Then you would know this theatre from top to bottom—you would be as familiar with its construction as the architect, perhaps?”
“I have a rather thorough knowledge of it, yes,” confessed Panzer, leaning back.
“That’s excellent! Let me give you a little problem, then, Panzer.... Suppose you wished to conceal a—let us say, a tophat—somewhere in the building, in such a way that not even an exhaustive search of the premises would bring it to light. What would you do? Where would you hide it?”
Panzer scowled thoughtfully at his cigarette. “A rather unusual question, Inspector,” he said at last, “and one which it is not easy to answer. I know the plans of the theatre very well; I was consulted about them in a conference with the architect before the theatre was built. And I can positively state that the original blueprints did not provide for such medieval devices as concealed passageways, secret closets or anything of that sort. I could enumerate any number of places where a man might hide a comparatively small object like a tophat, but none of them would be proof against a really thorough search.”
“I see.” The Inspector squinted at his finger-nails in an appearance of disappointment. “So that doesn’t help. We’ve been over the place from top to bottom, as you know, and we can’t find a trace of it....”
The door opened and Ellery, a trifle begrimed but wearing a cheerful smile, entered. The Inspector glanced at him in eager curiosity. Panzer rose hesitantly with the evident intention of leaving father and son alone. A flash of intelligence shot between the Queens.
“It’s all right, Panzer—don’t go,” said the Inspector peremptorily. “We’ve no secrets from you. Sit down, man!”
Panzer sat down.
“Don’t you think, dad,” remarked Ellery, perching on the edge of the desk and reaching for his pince-nez, “that this would be an opportune moment to inform Mr. Panzer of to-night’s opening? You remember we decided while he was gone that the theatre might be thrown open to the public this evening and a regular performance given....”
“How could I have forgotten—!” said the Inspector without blinking, although this was the first time he had heard about the mythical decision. “I think we’re about ready, Panzer, to lift the ban on the Roman. We find that we can do nothing further here, so there is no reason for depriving you of your patronage any longer. You may run a performance to-night—in fact, we are most anxious to see a show put on, aren’t we, Ellery?”
“‘Anxious’ is hardly the word,” said Ellery, lighting a cigarette. “I should say we insist upon it.”
“Exactly,” murmured the Inspector severely. “We insist upon it, Panzer.”
The manager had bobbed out of his chair, his face shining. “That’s simply splendid, gentlemen!” he cried. “I’ll telephone Mr. Davis immediately to let him know the good news. Of course”—his face fell—“it’s terribly late to expect any sort of response from the public for to-night’s performance. Such short notice....”
“You needn’t worry about that, Panzer,” retorted the Inspector. “I’ve caused your shut-down and I’ll see that the theatre is compensated for it to-night. I’ll get the newspaper boys on the wire and ask them to ballyhoo the opening in the next edition. It will mean a lot of unexpected publicity for you and undoubtedly the free advertising, combined with the normal curiosity of the public, will give you a sell-out.”
“That’s sporting of you, Inspector,” said Panzer, rubbing his hands. “Is there anything else I can do for you at the moment?”
“There’s one item you’ve forgotten, dad,” interposed Ellery. He turned to the swart little manager. “Will you see that LL32 and LL30 Left are not sold to-night? The Inspector and I would enjoy seeing this evening’s performance. We’ve not really had that pleasure yet, you know. And naturally we wish to preserve a stately incognito, Panzer—dislike the adulation of the crowd and that sort of thing. You’ll keep it under cover, of course.”
“Anything you say, Mr. Queen. I’ll instruct the cashier to put aside those tickets,” returned Panzer pleasantly. “And now, Inspector—you said you would telephone the press, I believe—?”
“Certainly.” Queen took up the telephone and held pithy conversations with the city editors of a number of metropolitan newspapers. When he had finished Panzer bade them a hurried good-by to get busy with the telephone.
Inspector Queen and his son strolled out into the orchestra, where they found Flint and the two detectives who had been examining the boxes awaiting them.
“You men hang around the theatre on general principles,” ordered the Inspector. “Be particularly careful this afternoon.... Any of you find anything?”
Flint scowled. “I ought to be digging clams in Canarsie,” he said with a disgruntled air. “I fell down on the job Monday night, Inspector, and I’m blamed if I could find a thing for you to-day. That place upstairs is swept as clean as a hound’s tooth. Guess I ought to go back to pounding a beat.”
Queen slapped the big detective on the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t be acting like a baby, lad. How on earth could you find anything when there wasn’t anything to find? You fellows get something?” he demanded, swinging on the other two men.
They shook their heads in a gloomy negation.
A moment later the Inspector and Ellery climbed into a passing taxicab and settled back for the short drive to headquarters. The old man carefully closed the glass sliding-window separating the driver’s seat from the interior of the car.
“Now, my son,” he said grimly, turning on Ellery, who was puffing dreamily at a cigarette, “please explain to your old daddy that hocus-pocus in Panzer’s office!”
Ellery’s lips tightened. He stared out of the window before replying. “Let me start this way,” he said. “You have found nothing in your search to-day. Nor have your men. And although I scouted about myself, I was just as unsuccessful. Dad, make up your mind to this one primary point: The hat which Monte Field wore to the performance of ‘Gunplay’ on Monday night, in which he was seen at the beginning of the second act, and which presumably the murderer took away after the crime was committed, is not in the Roman Theatre now and has not been there since Monday night. To proceed.” Queen stared at him with grizzled brows. “In all likelihood Field’s tophat no longer exists. I would stake my Falconer against your snuff-box that it has fled this life and now enjoys a reincarnation as ashes in the City dumps. That’s point number one.”
“Go on,” commanded the Inspector.
“Point number two is so elementary as to be infantile. Nevertheless, allow me the privilege of insulting the Queen intelligence.... If Field’s hat is not in the Roman Theatre now and has not been in the Roman Theatre since Monday night, it must of necessity have been taken out of the Roman Theatre some time during the course of that evening!”
He paused to gaze thoughtfully through the window. A traffic-officer was waving his arms at the juncture of 42nd Street and Broadway.
“We have established therefore,” he continued lightly, “the factual basis of a point which has been running us ragged for three days: to wit, did the hat for which we are looking leave the Roman Theatre.... To be dialectic—yes, it did. It left the Roman Theatre the night of the murder. Now we approach a greater problem—how did it leave and when.” He puffed at his cigarette and regarded the glowing tip. “We know that no person left the Roman Monday night with two hats or no hat at all. In no case was there anything incongruous in the attire of any person leaving the theatre. That is, a man wearing a full-dress costume did not go out with a fedora. In a similar way, no one wearing a silk-topper was dressed in ordinary street-clothes. Remember, we noticed nothing wrong from this angle in anyone.... This leads us inevitably, to my staggering mind, to the third fundamental conclusion: that Monte Field’s hat left the theatre in the most natural manner in the world: id est, by way of some man’s head, its owner being garbed in appropriate evening-clothes!”
The Inspector was keenly interested. He thought over Ellery’s statement for a moment. Then he said seriously, “That’s getting us somewhere, son. But you say a man left the theatre wearing Monte Field’s hat—an important and enlightening statement. But please answer this question: What did he do with his own hat, since no one left with two?”
Ellery smiled. “You now have your hand on the heart of our little mystery, dad. But let it hold for the moment. We have a number of other points to mull over. For example, the man who departed wearing Monte Field’s hat could have been only one of two things: either he was the actual murderer, or he was an accomplice of the murderer.”
“I see what you’re driving at,” muttered the Inspector. “Go on.”
“If he was the murderer, we have definitely established the sex and also the fact that our man was wearing evening-clothes that night—perhaps not a very illuminating point, since there were scores of such men in the theatre. If he was only an accomplice, we must conclude that the murderer was one of two possibilities: either a man dressed in ordinary clothes, whose possession of a tophat as he left would be patently suspicious; or else a woman, who of course could not sport a tophat at all!”
The Inspector sank back into the leather cushions. “Talk about your logic!” he chortled. “My son, I’m almost proud of you—that is, I would be if you weren’t so disgustingly conceited.... Things standing where they do, therefore, the reason you pulled your little drama in Panzer’s office....”
His voice lowered as Ellery leaned forward. They continued to converse in inaudible tones until the taxicab drew up before the headquarters building.
No sooner had Inspector Queen, who had proceeded blithely through the sombre corridors with Ellery striding at his side, entered his tiny office than Sergeant Velie lumbered to his feet.
“Thought you were lost, Inspector!” he exclaimed. “That Stoates kid was in here not long ago with a suffering look on his face. Said that Cronin was tearing his hair at Field’s office—that they still hadn’t found a thing in the files of an incriminating nature.”
“Go away, go away, Thomas my lad,” gurgled the Inspector softly. “I can’t bother myself with petty problems like putting a dead man behind bars. Ellery and I—”
The telephone bell rang. Queen sprang forward and snatched the instrument from the desk. As he listened the glow left his thin cheeks and a frown settled once more on his forehead. Ellery watched him with a strange absorption.
“Inspector?” came the hurried voice of a man. “This is Hagstrom reporting. Just got a minute—can’t say much. Been tailing Angela Russo all morning and had a tough time.... Seems to be wise that I’m following her.... A half hour ago she thought she’d given me the slip—she hopped into a cab and beat it downtown.... And say, Inspector—just three minutes ago I saw her enter Benjamin Morgan’s office!”
Queen barked, “Nail her the instant she comes out!” and slammed the receiver down. He turned slowly to Ellery and Velie and repeated Hagstrom’s report. Ellery’s face became a study in frowning astonishment. Velie appeared unmistakably pleased.
But the old man’s voice was strained as he sat down weakly in his swivel-chair. Finally he groaned, “What do you know about that!”
