Puzzle of the Blue Banderilla by Stuart Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

admitted having heard a rumor or two.
    “But you yourself were there, no? Or very soon afterward?”
    “I was,” admitted Piper. He wondered if this came under the head of idle curiosity, or if he was being cleverly pumped.
    “What you think, eh? You think that poor Manuel Robles died by heart failure?”
    So that was the customs man’s name. Piper made a mental note. “I wouldn’t know about that,” he said.
    Julio shrugged. “I happen to know the family of that poor young man. Very healthy family, that. They don’t have heart failures. I never hear of one person in that family having heart failures.”
    “Then your idea is …” Piper broke out into the open.
    Julio Mendez hesitated. Something was in his dark intent eyes, something hovered on the tip of his tongue. But he did not speak.
    “You’re not thinking of murder, are you?” the inspector pressed.
    “I’m thinking,” said Julio Mendez earnestly, “that it is sometimes better to let the police pulling their own irons out of the fire.” And he rose and walked away.
    “Funny his knowing the name of the customs man,” Piper said to himself. Possibly either a dupe or an out-and-out accomplice. Because this seemed to be stacking up as a woman’s murder. Poison, that was distinctly feminine. And all that roundabout stuff of the smashed tea glass. A man wouldn’t have shot the air gun or whatever impelled that bullet at the glass. A man would have shot at the intended victim.
    Well, the Mexican authorities could thresh that all out for themselves. No use trying to contact any of these jerkwater police chiefs along the way; Mexico City was the only place for a showdown. Thanks to Hildegarde, it was a pretty fair chain of circumstantial evidence that he had prepared to lay before them.
    Oscar Piper counted off points, one, two, three, on his fingers. Not entirely complete as yet, but no bad holes in it. Not even Hildegarde Withers could knock holes in this setup. Though it was only fair, really, to let her in on the inside.
    Taking some yellow blanks from the rack down the car, he returned to his table and settled down to the throes of composition. The next stop would be Saltillo in half an hour, and he could put it on the wire there. He began:
MURDER IS WHAT IT ADDS UP TO INNOCENT BYSTANDER DEAD THROUGH POISON PLANTED FOR ADELE MABIE IN PERFUME BOTTLE STOP YOUR INFORMATION SHOWS PERFUME STOCK OF DRUGSTORE WHERE PROTHERO GIRL WORKED BEFORE TAKING JOB WITH MABIES STOP AS DISCHARGED EMPLOYEE SHE HAD FAIR MOTIVE EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY STOP POLICE HERE HESITANT HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO FORCE THEIR HANDS ON ARRIVAL MEXICO CITY THANKS
    OSCAR
    He read it over, frowned and shook his head. You never could tell when information would leak out. If there only were some possible code—but of course! He tore up the first message, dropped the scraps into his ashtray and began again, using a code that would be Greek to Mexicans and simplicity itself to a Manhattan schoolteacher.
URDERMAY…INNOCENT…YSTANDERBAY…OISONPAY
    He wrote on and on, finishing as they drew into the station. It was only the work of a moment to cross the platform, file the message with the telegraph operator, and return to the train. As he walked back through the dining car he noticed with some surprise that while his ashtray still held the remains of his after-dinner cigar, the scraps of the first telegram he had written had completely disappeared.

IV
Things Over Mexico
    A GREAT TIGER-STRIPED CAT welcomed Miss Hildegarde Withers on the sidewalk outside the rooming house on Eighty-sixth Street, escorted her up the steps and waited patiently beside her while the schoolteacher rang the bell.
    The cat obviously only wanted in, but Miss Withers considered its purring companionship as a good omen.
    “Dulcie Prothero don’t live here any more,” the wrapper-clad landlady advised her midnight caller. “She’s gone to Mexico to seek her fortune.”
    “To do what ?” Miss Withers blinked.
    “To