THE DIVORCE
COURT MURDER
, By Milton Propper
TENTH INSTALLMENT
The detective could not decide
whether to believe the story or not.
"Do you know whether Mrs.
Keith ever visited Allerton, Indi
ana?" Abruptly Rankin shifted the
subject.
The other shook his head. "Al
lerton? Certainly not in the four
years since we met; before that,
she may have been there. She
never mentioned it . . . Why do you
ask?"
I found an empty bottle with an
old label from a hospital in that
town in her medicine closet. It had
contained pyramidon."
Rankin bent toward him to em
phasize the importance of his next
question.
"Isn't it a fact, Mr. Keith, that in
spite of your liberal allowance and
income, your wife was always
pressed for funds?"
Mortimer Keith looked startled.
"How could you guess that, Ran
kin?" he exclaimed. "It's true she
worried about money, and often ap
proached me for more, for charities
and clothes. Once I questioned her
about it, and she made some vague
excuse about losing it in stocks."
"Perhaps this will explain her ex
penditures," Rankin said, "these
check-stubs and canceled checks."
As he studied them, Mr. Keith's
lips tightened into a formidable line,
and his eyes flashed in features
darkened by a swift anger.
"Steady payments like this for
two years," he cried harshly, at last,
"as if she were being blackmailed to
prevent me from learning some se
cret about her!"
"They certainly suggest that,"
Rankin said, in disappointed tones.
"You had 1 no knowledge of them or
to whom or for what reason she
drew them. (
"No, this is my first inkling of
them."
"Were you aware, sir, that Mrs.
Keith would be a witness in that
Rowland divorce suit in Mr. Daw
son's office, yesterday?"
Mr. Keith shook his head. "Not
until I read where she met her
death."
"Had you any idea," Rankin
asked, "how she happened to
accompany young Rowland, two
weeks ago, and be in a position to
give evidence for him?"
"I still don't understand how she
ever permitted herself to become in
volved in such a vulgur public scan
dal!" the manufacturer rasped out.
"Did you know Mrs. Keith was
going out that Wednesday night at
all?"
- "Yes, she was to visit her physi
cian, who attends her when her
headaches become particularly vi
cious. Dr. Anton Brantman on
Pine Street. I didn't pay any atten
tion to when she left or returned
home."
"Then, Mr. Keith, what was your
connection with the Rowland di
vorce action?" ,
At the abruptness with which the
detective shot this question the
other gazed at him in perplexity and
surprise.
"My connection?" he repeated
wonderingly. "I don't follow you,
Rankin; I haven't the slightest inter
est in it."
Rankin's voice rang with the
vigor he put into his unexpected
offensive.
"In that case," he demanded,
"what were you doing at Sunset
Inn, the evening of February first—
when Mrs. Rowland discovered her
husband in compromising relations
with her secretary there!
fl*
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If it was Tommy Rankin's inten
tion to startle the manufacturer by
his sudden query, he succeeded ad
mirably."
"How in the world did you find
that out?" he finally asked in a dry
voice.
Rankin saw no harm in answer
ing. "It came out at the hearing
that you reached the Inn just after
Mrs. Rowland's party and witnessed
the interruption (ft her husband's
affair."
"Well, it . . . all happened quite
accidentally ... I had no warning
of what was happening," the other
floundered. "I was driving to New
York alone that night, and when I
reached Quakertown, I decided to
sleep there because it was so late. I
had left Philadelphia at about . . ."
Obviously he was stalling for
time. "That won't wash, Mr. Keith!"
the detective answered curtly. "You
surely don't hope to persuade me
your presence was only -a coinci
dence?"
Mr. Keith compressed his lips.
"Yes, of course that's ridiculous.
The truth is, I have no explanation
to offer; I can't tell you why I went
there."
It was Rankin's turn to be taken
aback,-and he stared incredulously,
as though he had not heard right.
"You can't tell me, Mr. Keith?"
he said harshly. "You mean you
won't?
"Have it any way you like, Ran
kin," his opponent returned, firmly.
"It concerns me alone and can't
possibly be of intrest to the author
ities. His a private matter I pre
fer not to disclose." *
"Mr. Keith," Rankin cried sharp
ly, "do you realize what your refusal
means? Nothing is private in a
murder case; and I am investigat
ing the murder of some one near to
you, your wife."
The manufacturer winced. "If
it had any relation to the crime at
all, I promise you I wouldn't hesi
tate to speak out, Rankin."
"I'm the best judge of what is
pertinent to the case and what isn't
Mr. Keith." I
But Mortimer Keith shook his
head. "I'm sorry I can't oblige," he
said more gently.
The detective had to acknowledge
defeat in his effort to discover the
secret of Mr. Keith's visit to Sunset
Inn. The man stood clearly within
his right in not answering. *
Leaving Cottman on guard the
detective returned to Headquarters.
"That fellow Campbell Cordon's
been hunting has shown up, Tom
my," the captain announced. "He
came in and asked for you of his
own accord, twenty minutes ago.
Rankin began by ignoring the
hand Campbell proffered, and the
visitor flushed.
"Sit down, Campbell," he invited
blandly. "I've offten wanted to
meet you; considering our mutual
interests, it's strange we haven't
done so before."
Campbell sat aside his cane. "Yes,
it is," he agreed. "I might return
the compliment, Rankin; you're to
be congratulated on your splendid
reputation, it's a privilege to know
you."
"I had expected to hear from you
before this," the detective continued.
"It's been in all the papers that we
wanted to communicate with you."
"That's what really brought me
in," Campbell returned easily. "I
happened to be called hastily to the
country, where there were no news
papers. I spent the night on the
Perkiomen Creek, at the cottage of
THE FT.KIN TRIBUNE. ELKIN. NORTH CAROLINA
my inena, NICK AIOERA, WHO man
ages the Organdy Club."
Rankin spoke casually. "That
was where so much of the trouble
began, wasn't It, Campbell? Whsn
you and Mrs. Adele Rowland spent
a night there, two weeks ago?"
At the deliberate provocation, the
racketeer compressed his lips re-1
sentfully and his eyes flashed; but J
with an effort he held his peace.
"What about that phone call inj
the lawyer's- office?" Rankin
lenged. "You were there to cry
out, "Oh, my God!" and "You fool!"
That didn't mean very pleasant
news. You were alarmed enough to
rush out quickly to . . . well, be on
hand yourself and then leave the
city."
Again Campbell's features hard
ened. "You haven't a single fact to
prove any connection with Mrs.
Keith. It's no use, Rankin; you
can't show I had any. knowledge of
her death before today, or expect
I me to admit anything you can use."
"At least you have no objection
to telling me who phoned you,"
Rankin suggested.
"Oh, but I certainly have. That's
my private affair."
Abruptly the detective shifted his
attack. "If I'm not mistaken you
reached Mr. Dawson's office yester
day before Mrs. Keith arrived with
her escort."
"No, I wasn't there then," Camp
bell corrected him. "I followed them
by a few minutes—it must have
been almost twenty to three; and
they had already gone into the
library to wait."
"Mrs. Keith chose to stay in the
inner office, fifteen-o-five, where she
could be alone," Rankin stated, "and
you were aware of that; in fact,
Mrs. Rowland joined you from the
library to tell you that." pis tone
became hostile. "Just before shej
entered fifteen-o-five herself, to un- |
lock the hall door."
The implied accusation brought j
Campbell forward in his chair, in a I
swift burst of anger.
"So that's what you're getting at,"
he said, through his teeth. "You'll
claim next I committed the murder
myself! Damn it, Rankin, lie care
ful with your charges; you might
have the unpleasant job of trying to
prove them. I was in the main
office during the time she was
killed."
"So you know when that hap
pened?" the detective observed drily.
"And why not?" his visitor de
; manded wrathfully. "It's in all the
, papers that she died between half
past two and three o'clock."
; "Well, what about the time before
, you arrived two-thirty-eight—or
after you left. That was at two
. fifty-six; you still'had four minutes
, leeway. And the whole business
■ could be accomplished in hardly
i more than a minute. Mrs. Rowland
had unlncked the door from the cor
, ridor rfhd pulled the curtains; It was
only necessary- to enter fifteen-o
, five, close the window, chloroform
' Mrs. Keith and then open them
» again."
5 Excited, Campbell appeared ready
to burst out a refutation, but caught
; himself, in a desperate attempt to
j regain his equanimity.
"Well, what of that?" He spotte
[ more calmly. "It's all words, Ran
, kin, nothing more; you've no found
[ dation or confirmation of any of
t these suppositions. It's ridiculous
for me to take them at all seriously."
Disappointed at his control, Ran
[ kin played his trump card, his un
, wavering gaze fixed on the other.
I "Campbell," he demanded slowly,
, "where can I find Mitch Riley? I
think he could help me and I would
like to have a short conversation
with him."
At last he had penetrated Camp
bell's vigilant guard. Startled and
furious, a cold rage leaped to his eyes
in which the detective recognized
amazement, shock and, what was
most significant, fear.
He could not keep a strained tim
bre from his voice. "Mitch Riley?
Oh, yes, he's one of Nick's friends
from New York, isn't he, Rankin?"
"Yes, of Alberti's, Duch Sykes
and plenty others I needn't mention.
Yesterday afternoon, he was in the
office where Mrs. Keith died; he
considerately left his fingerprints on
the table beside her. And when I
learn why he was there, they are
going to hang somebody, Camp
bell!"
Campbell regained his composure.
"No, I don't understand his pres
ence, if he was really there. You'll
have to scout around to his friends
to account for it, Rankin. All I
know Is that I haven't laid eyes on
him." '
When the racketeer left Head
quarters at the close if the inter
view, Smith, a plain-clothes man
followed him.
Continued Next Week
KILLS WIFE, SON, SELF
Kennansville, Sept. I.—Edward A.
Farrior, 70, retired real estate oper
ator, today shot and killed his wife,
Mrs. Elsa Houston Farrior, 50, and
her. 12-year-old son, Lukie Houston,
and then ended his own life with a
pistol bullet. ,
Duplin county officers said they
believed Farrior, widely known in
this region as a land-owner, commit
ted the acts under mental derange
ment. *
Suffering from the delusion that
all food offered her was poisoned,
Miss Amy Caldrow of St. Paul starv
ed to death.
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Thursday, September 5, 1935