Cue For Murder полностью

Lazarus grew interested. “It’s possible. I hadn’t thought of that. If I had, I would have examined the stone more carefully when I first discovered the burglary yesterday morning. Of course, it’s too late now. I used it myself last night and this morning. But why should anyone take all the risk and trouble of burgling a shop in order to sharpen a knife? My prices are not high!”

“Suppose this person didn’t want any witnesses to his possession of the knife.”

“So. We’ll never know now.” Lazarus smiled at the bird. “Only Dickie can tell us what the burglar did, and he’s not talking. You should come back on Christmas Eve at midnight when all animals are supposed to talk!”

Standing before the cage, Lazarus whistled the opening bars of the Unfinished Symphony. Dickie took up the strain and repeated it. Then he added some frills of his own and wandered off into a maze of musical improvisation.

“That bird!” exclaimed Lazarus fondly. “He is like the man who wanted to finish the Unfinished Symphony! He cannot let well enough alone! Once I had a steam kettle here, and he used to sing with it whenever the water boiled. Once when I was ill he spent a few days in Sam’s office, and when he came back, what do you think he did? Made a little clack-clack-clack sound in his throat like a typewriter!”

“Could a scalpel be sharpened on your grindstone?”

“Ah! I begin to understand you, Dr. Willing!” No man could have been as wise as Lazarus looked when he smiled. “You think my burglary and what happened at the theater last night are all one crime?”

“We know the scalpel was sharpened somewhere. It belonged to Rodney Tait, and he admits that it was blunt a few days ago.”

“But why?” Lazarus’ face grew sober. “The murderer could have bought a knife already sharp.”

“And left a record of the sale.”

“He could have taken this scalpel to a knife-grinder far away—in some suburb or neighboring city.”

“And left a record of the transaction, just as he would if he had bought a grindstone. An ordinary whetstone would not have done. The knife was large.

“Could the police trace the purchase of a grindstone so easily?”

“That’s the sort of thing they’re particularly good at. There are many of them, and they are all dogged, patient, and trained. They would question every shopkeeper who sells grindstones for miles around, if they thought they could trace a murderer that way. But this way there is no clue to the person who wanted to sharpen the scalpel except the fact that he or she set your canary free. If it hadn’t been for Dickie, the burglary would never have got in the papers. It would have attracted so little attention, it might never have been connected with the murder at all.”

“If it hadn’t been for Dickie, I might never have known there was a burglary, and I might never have reported it to the police!” cried Lazarus. “It was only when I saw the door of the cage open and Dickie flying around the room that I noticed the broken window latch and realized someone must have been in here.”

“That makes it more curious than ever.” Basil frowned. “Could the wind have blown open the window and then the cage door?”

“It might blow the window open but not the cage door. Try it for yourself.”

Dickie fluttered his wings and retreated to the farthest corner of the cage as a strange face approached him. Basil tugged at the door of the cage and opened it with some difficulty. The latch was stiff. “No, it wasn’t the wind,” he said as he closed it again. “You’re sure you latched it when you left for the night?”

“Oh, yes, I remember that clearly. Dickie had moulted a feather, and it got caught in the hinge. I pulled it out and latched the door very carefully.”

Basil surveyed the rest of the shack. “You’re sure there were no clues of any kind when you first came in yesterday morning?”

“None whatever,” answered Lazarus. “But there is one thing: it must have been someone who knew this neighborhood. Only the people around here know my shop.”

“Unfortunately all our suspects are familiar with this neighborhood, so that doesn’t help at all.” Basil sighed. “So far, there is just one clue to your burglar’s identity.”

“What?”

“The canary was let out of his cage. Why? There must have been a reason, and that reason is a clue.”

“But, heavens, what could it be?”

“I don’t know. The cage is large, clean, and comfortable. There seems no reason for it at all. And yet it was done, and everything that a human being does has the motive power of some reason or emotion back of it, consciously or unconsciously. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be done.”

“But sometimes people do things for no reason at all,” ventured Lazarus. “A whim . . . a caprice . . .”