BUCKY FOLLOWS A HOT TRAIL

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 May 1939, Page 10

BUCKY FOLLOWS A HOT TRAIL

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

BY

WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE.

CHAPTER XXX. “A few days ago Chief O'Sullivan learned that Young Ferrill, a teller of the First National, had been short in his accounts at the time of Buchmann’s death,” Bucky continued after Mitchell’s interruption. “Was it possible that Buchmann had discovered the defalcation and that Ferrill killed him in order to keep him quiet, robbing the bank again afterward. But Uncle Cliff was missing. What had become of him? Had Ferrill murdered him too? If so, what had he done with the body? The chief grilled Ferrill, and became convinced that the teller knew nothing about the murder. He was simply a young man living beyond his means, and who had yielded to the temptation of taking the banks funds and falsifying his books.” "Why don’t you tell us who did it,” Sheriff Haskell asked, “ if you really know.” “I suspected a lot of people at one time or another.” Bucky said. "Good citizens like Jud Richman,” he went on, letting his gaze rest on Richman, “because he has always fronted for the Red Rock rustlers, and because he is the agent for renting the empty house from which some one tried to assassinate me in my room in the hospital. I even suspected Mitchell, for no reason at alb except that he appeared so soon after 1 had been shot at and said he had seen a man at the corner of Wilson and Fifth streets hurrying away from the scene of the shooting. “You have nothing on me,” Mitchell said coolly. “1 suspected you. even after I pretended I didn’t. But I don t quite get that about the corner of Wilson and Fifth. What had that to do with it?” “It seemed odd that you would know the names of these two streets, out in the suburbs, wnen you were a stranger in town —a little too pat.” Mitchell shrugged his shoulders. "Why would I want to shoot at you?” “Just what 1 asked myself,” Bucky said, smiling at him.. “Of course, I knew you hated Garside. The first time I saw you together that was plain to me. You had just come out of the Valley Bank after having had a row with him.” “Another of your brainstorms,” Mitchell answered impatiently. “It isn’t reasonable that I would hate a man I have never seen until 1 came to Toltec.” “You mean the first time you came to Toltec?” Bucky asked sauvely. A curious change came over the face of Mitchell. One can sometimes see the same look in the eyes of a fighter in the ring who has just been shocked into the knowledge that he is going to be defeated. “I was sure,” 6ucky continued, “that you and Garside knew each other some time in tne past.” Bucky’s voice was even, but his eyes were hard and cold as jade. “So 1 made inquiries, sent telegrams. You let me think you a G-man. I found out you weren't. I found out you had been a motion picture character actor for some time. About two years ago you dropped out of Hollywood, Nobody seemed to know what had become of you.” “What’s all this about?”- snapped Henning of the “News.” Bucky ignored him. His gaze did not lift from Mitchell. “Something about you puzzled several people here,” he continued steadily. “Both Dr .Raymond and my nurse Miss Graham were reminded of somebody when they saw you, but they could not think who it was. .Maybe they had seen you in motion pictures, or maybe they had seen you here in Toltec when, you were here before.” “I told you this is the first time I was ever here.” Mitchell rose,’ with blustering anger. “I’m not going to stay here and listen to this tommyrot.” “Sit down, Mitchell,” O'Sullivan ordered curtly. He leaned forward, his face harsh. “I’m arresting you for the robbery of the First National bank and the murder of Clifford Cameron, and for the later murder of Clement Garside.” Leaping to his feet again, Mitchell dashed for the door. Sergeant Swenson and Tim Murphy closed with him. He fought desperately, trying to drag a weapon from his pocket, but in a minute they had him handcuffed. He stood, white and defiant. The chief waved to Cameron. “Get on with your story,” he said. Bucky nodded. “When Chief O'Sullivan said Mitchell had helped him he meant that Mitchell’s suspicious actions and his mistakes made it possible to fasten the crimes on him. For instance, ne twisted the facts to try to make me believe my Red Rock enemies had taken my uncle away with them the night of the bank robbery, though he knew Uncle Cliff was dead before the hill men left town.” “Lies, all lies!” Mitchell spat at him. “It was quite clear to me and to the Chief th it Dan West and his Red Rock friends had not done this job,” Cameron said. “Not up their alley. They had not brains for it. The fellow who planned it was some one who wanted to pull off the perfect crime. The gun that killed Uncle Cliff probably had a silencer. So had the one from which a bullet was fired at me while I was in hospital. The criminal was beginning to feel 1 was finding out too much. He thought it safer to get me out of the way.”

“You haven’t said a single thing that ties me up with these crimes," the accused man cried angrily. Bucky, his hard eyes boring into those of tne prisoner, said, "You called yourself Max Buchmann when you were at Toltec before.” B'ank astonishment was written on the faces or. most of those present. District Attorney Ashley was the first to speak. “But that’s impossible. Buchmann was killed.”

“No,” corrected Cameron sharply. “Uncle Cliff was killed —by Buchmann. His face was disfigured and his body burned, to prevent identification. Since the dead man was in Buchmann’s clothes and wore his thick-soled shoe, since he was bald-headed, and the bookkeeper’s glasses lay broken beside him, the natural assumption was that ,the murdered man was Buchmann. Last night the body was exhumed. On the head was hair that had grown alter the burial. It was identified by an old bullet wound and a tooth filling as that of Clifford Cameron.” . “But this man Mitchell doesn't look in the least like Buchmann.” objected Ashley. “He is not over thirty— Buchmann was at least forty-five. The bookkeeper was bald, lame, fattish. He was a German with thick-lensed glasses. In his mouth there was a very prominent gold incisor. No, Eucky, that won't ao.”

"Why won’t it?” O’Sullivan demanded. “The fellow came here disguised. He was a character actor. He knew how to make up. He wore a wig, and everybody knew he was bald as a billiard ball. But I’ll bet ten dollars nobody saw him take off that wig the last six months he was here. Lame? Just a thick soled shoe. The gold icclh was a false sheath. His clothes were padded to make him look fat. So were his cheeks, to an extent that completely altered the contour of his face. Nobooy ever saw him without the glasses, rhe bristly moustache was dyed red, and the clothes he wore were badly made hand-me-downs.” "That's not convincing,” the district attorney said.

“Cliff had the whole staff of the First National fingerprinted. Mitchell’s fingerprints are the same as those of Buchmann. Bucky got Mitchell’s prints on a highball glass one day at the ranch. What’s more, this fellow here left his prints on the table of the Garside living room the night he killed Clem. He left them on the gun we found outside Crest Inn, where he had gone with the Valley Bank bandits to kill Bucky.”

“Was he in the Valley robbery loo?” asked the sheriff.

“No. He was tied up with the outlaws yesterday oy a queer fluke. They wanted some one to help them spring McCall from gaol ana they got in touch with him. He made a deal with the bandits to help their friend break out, and they were to join him in rubbing Bucky from the slate. ■ By a smooth trick McCall got out—and two gaolers have lost their jobs on account of it. The four of them followed Bucky to Crest Inn. They almost got him, but not quite. My men trapped the gangsters, killed Mike Soretti, and captured the other two. Mitchell escaped. About an hour ago we picked him up trying to leave town. I did not have him arrested. We did not have 'a report yet on the identity of the exhumed body, Jjut I had him covered every minute of the time and he knew it. He did not come to this meeting with any joy, but he didn’t dare try to stay away. So he came, hoping we hadn’t proof enough against him.” Mitchell' faced the chief boldly enough. "You haven’t,” he sneered. “Say for the. sake of argument I am Buchmann. That doesn’t prove 1 robbed the bank or killed Cameron. The fingerprints on the Garside table prove nothing. I probably made them during the investigation after the murder.”

“No, you didn’t. I took pains to see none of the furniture was touched. You made tnem the night before. We are going to prove Clem was killed by a bullet fired from your gun. We have the bullet and the gun—the one you dropped when you were escaping at Crest Inn.”

“If I was guilty of robbery and murder, why should I run the risk of coming back to Toltec?” O’Sullivan leaned forward. “You came back to get your share of the First national loot. The fellow who put you up to the job double-crossed you. He was in a financial jam, and he spent your share of the stolen money as well as his own. The two of you quarrelled about it after your return. He wouldn’t or couldn’t disgorge. Then he robbed another bank, and you caught him with the goods. My guess is he tried to get rid of you and that you beat him to the draw. That’s how and why you killed your pal—Clem Garside.

A stir passed through the room. “Clem arranged for the robbery of his own bank because he was in a hole financially,” O’Sullivan went on. “The bandits did not get one-fourth as much as he blaimed from the insurance company. One of the two men we caught last night has confessed. 1 can’t prove Garside was in the First National robbery, but there plenty of inferential evidence that he was. He cleaned up an urgent debt of forty thousand dollars two days later. The only plausible ground tor a quarrel between him and Mitchell is that he had doublecrossed this guy. He hated Cameron and wanted to put him out of business. Buchmann, or Mitchell, no doubt did the actual killing, but Clem was a silent partner. It was his idea for Buchmann to light out, leaving the dough with- him for a later divvy. When the showdown came he threw his partner down and wouldn’t pay.”

“You didn’t mention, Chief, that we found a silencer in Mitchell’s room at the hotel,” Sergeant Swenen added. “That’s right,” O’Sullivan agreed. “Well,-.that’s my case, gentlemen. Unless I’m away off it’s good enough to send Buchmann to the gallows and these gangsters to prison for a long term.”

Ashley agreed with him. “You've done a fine job, Chief, with Bucky’s help. Toltec isn’t likely to forget it for a long time.”

Mitchell stopped in front of Bucky while Swensen was leading him out. His face was dark with fury. “I knew all the time 1 ought to kill you,” he spat at Cameron. "I hope the Red Rock rustlers get you.” He added a fervent curse.

“They won’t,” Comeron answered. ■‘Friend West and his gang are done. Either they leave the country or go to the penitentiary." .Swensen urged Mitchell forward out of the room. Bucky lingered. What about that hundred dollar bet?” he asked lhe chief, tilting a smile at the officer. "Do 1 win?”

"You win,” O'Sullivan answered, grinning. “And I'm mighty glad to pay it. You're a high-heeled, impudent source oi trouble, Bucky. I’ve cussed you plenty. I thought you a confounded nuisance. But there’s something about you I liked all the time.”

He sat down and wrote a cheque. "You can buy a wedding present with it for the young lady who went through hell and high water with you," he said sardonically.

“I’m on my way to meet Miss Graham now.” Bucky responded. “I’ll tell her it comes with your compliments.

From a window O’Sullivan watched him moving jauntily down the street, a carefree young man finished with one high adventure, and ready to begin another. "The lucky scamp,” he murmured enviously. THE END.