Post by Salzmank on May 6, 2017 2:29:26 GMT
“That’s terrible!” cried the innocent Miss Vale. “Geoff, we have to stop it before someone else is killed!”
Geoff put his arm around her. “What’s happened so far?”
“Four of the members have already kicked the bucket,” Sgt. Mack’s voice grated. “Milton Jackson, Jonathan Adams, and Fred Miller were each found at their apartments, shot through the head. Same gun according to the ballistics, Maestro.”
“But you said four, Sergeant. Who’s the fourth?”
O’Leary looked at Paula, then said, “George Johnson, the writer, was shot today in his living room; his wife and housekeeper were away, but, when Mrs. Johnson returned, she found her husband lying there and called an ambulance. He was rushed to the hospital and rallied for a while—Mack here was able to get there as he regained consciousness—but the docs weren’t able to save him in the long run. He died just about an hour before we got here.”
“The poor man,” Paula murmured softly.
Geoff said, “Any clues, Pop?”
“Besides the ballistics, just two—no fingerprints on the gun or around the apartment, worse luck. Mack, you tell Mr. Lord what you heard before Johnson died.”
“Well,” said the giant, “I only hears a few words, at the end, before he’s gone—y’know?”
“Yes?”
“Johnson laughed to himself, Maestro, and spit out, ‘He’s the only one not part of it.’”
Geoff rose and stared at the fire for a good minute. “‘He’s the only one not part of it’! Oh, Heaven, I’ve dealt with some difficult dying clues in my time, but this one beats all the others!” He broke off. “You said there were two clues.”
Geoff put his arm around her. “What’s happened so far?”
“Four of the members have already kicked the bucket,” Sgt. Mack’s voice grated. “Milton Jackson, Jonathan Adams, and Fred Miller were each found at their apartments, shot through the head. Same gun according to the ballistics, Maestro.”
“But you said four, Sergeant. Who’s the fourth?”
O’Leary looked at Paula, then said, “George Johnson, the writer, was shot today in his living room; his wife and housekeeper were away, but, when Mrs. Johnson returned, she found her husband lying there and called an ambulance. He was rushed to the hospital and rallied for a while—Mack here was able to get there as he regained consciousness—but the docs weren’t able to save him in the long run. He died just about an hour before we got here.”
“The poor man,” Paula murmured softly.
Geoff said, “Any clues, Pop?”
“Besides the ballistics, just two—no fingerprints on the gun or around the apartment, worse luck. Mack, you tell Mr. Lord what you heard before Johnson died.”
“Well,” said the giant, “I only hears a few words, at the end, before he’s gone—y’know?”
“Yes?”
“Johnson laughed to himself, Maestro, and spit out, ‘He’s the only one not part of it.’”
Geoff rose and stared at the fire for a good minute. “‘He’s the only one not part of it’! Oh, Heaven, I’ve dealt with some difficult dying clues in my time, but this one beats all the others!” He broke off. “You said there were two clues.”