The Condemned Don’t Pay Well Chapter 8

The End of Ray Irish Mystery Case File #3

A flashlight beam suddenly turned on and a shot rang out.

Ray instinctively moved, but the blast was much louder than he expected. To his surprise, an unsteady flashlight beam showed Crawford holding his arm with shock filling his face.

“I heard you from outside the window. You killed them, you bastard!” Anderson’s voice cracked.

Irish looked over at the man who came back inside from the balcony. His shaking hand still held Ray’s pistol with the breech open after the last cartridge fired.

Crawford’s mocking scorn came out in his laugh.

“Sure, I killed them. Mendez and Dodson hung alright, but I you’ll never guess how I did it.”

Irish stepped closer to Crawford and sighed.

“Give me a break. It’s pretty obvious someone drugged them. That’s why you needed a partner. Even a fat man like you couldn’t hoist them up in the trees. I just didn’t figure you used every servant as your partner.”

The broker gave Ray a foul glare.

“They were easy to convince after a while. Except for Mendez, even Dodson couldn’t convince him. But you’re forgetting that I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Crawford lifted his other hand, which now held his revolver. However, Irish was waiting for the killer’s last play. He struck quickly and accurately with a fist into the side of Crawford’s throat. The man’s round face suddenly paled as the broker went to his knees. The revolver dropped to the floor. Gasping for air, Crawford grasped his neck with both hands, his injured arm shaking at the effort. Ray pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, reached down, and calmly picked up the gun with the cloth.

“You played the servants off each other,” he continued, while walking over to Anderson.

“I don’t understand,” the old man said as he watched the killer choking from Ray’s technique.

“Sometimes my military training pays off.” He looked down at Crawford as the man finally passed out.

“Hopefully, I didn’t break his trachea. He still needs to go in front of a jury so they can hang him properly.”

He turned back to the old man still holding his suitcases and the gun.

“Mr. Anderson, you have bad habits. One of them is paying your servants too little. My guess is they resented you after a while and one of them, probably Dodson, tried to figure out where you kept your money stashed inside the house. The second bad habit is letting everyone know you don’t trust banks.”

“Of course I don’t trust banks,” Anderson shot back. “I lost so much during the bank runs in 1929 and never trusted banks after that.”

He paused, his face dropping.

“I treated them like family. Dodson told me he didn’t need much since he had a place to stay and good food.”

Ray placed the killer’s gun in his pocket and went to the flashlight on the floor near Crawford. He kneeled over the man, then looked at Anderson with a frown at the comment.

“You got any rope around here?”

A couple of minutes later, Anderson came back with a length of heavy twine.

“You have all the cash here and your broker wanted it.” Irish tied Crawford’s hands behind the man’s back as he outlined his hunches.

“Since you hide everything in that closet, I’m betting that Crawford worked on your servants for a while, maybe a year or so. I’m sure they suspected you had a safe in there but, they weren’t allowed in this room, were they? At least, not without you standing here watching them as they worked.”

“Wait, how did you know I hid my money in the closet?”

The shamus glanced up and shook his head.

“You were a suspect, and you had access to a tree to leave your room unseen. I watched your bedroom windows from outside the house. Once you get nervous, you lock yourself in this room, then go into your closet far too many times. That’s bad habit number three in my books.”

Ray noticed the scowl on Anderson’s face at the observation, but he was past caring about the man’s feelings.

“The reason I was sure a servant was involved is the way Crawford got into your room earlier. Someone used a pair of pliers to unlock your door at some point. But it would take too long in the dark to attempt that. A servant gave him a duplicate key at some point. I think your servants might have initially scoffed at the idea of going after your money. But Crawford assured them about scaring you out of the house. It’s easier to convince people to start with an idea. If he pushed them to force the location out of you by using violence, then they would get squeamish. We’ll know that when the police interrogate him.”

Anderson went to his bed and sat on the edge. He let the bags filled with money drop to the floor.

“So, they worked together to frighten me! How could I be such a fool?”

“Having a servant or two around allowed him to plant that fake book in the house easily. They just reinforced the idea with you it was old and mysteriously appeared. Worse, you never bothered to look closer at the old signs.”

Ray watched the old man, who looked confused at the idea.

“They look authentic enough until you pull them out of the tree,” Irish explained. “No wood lasts that long outdoors without getting soft. Plus, a quick look can see the nails were machine made, certainly not made over a hundred years old.”

There was silence in the room as Ray went over to check on their captured murderer.

“It looks like he’ll survive. You can help me haul your broker to my car. The police will want to hear your story.”

“I understand Crawford got into my room the first time and tried to kill me. But what about the hangings?” Anderson rubbed his nose as he thought about the evening.

“I found precarious spots where they put Mendez and Dodson in the trees. After they doped them, your cook and broker used a rope to haul them up. When the men recovered consciousness, they fell from the spot with the noose around their neck.”

Irish scratched his head with a frown.

“Unfortunately, Mendez woke up too soon and dropped directly in front of my car. I hit him so hard the rope broke. While I’m looking at the tracks on the road, Crawford removed the noose from the man’s neck. It was my big mistake, not getting over to the body sooner. I was more upset about the man’s death than I thought. Later on, Crawford removed the rest of the rope from the tree branch. He must have done that during one of the times we separated. I didn’t tell you he tried to kill me when I discovered that evidence.”

The shamus went to the balcony doors.

“The police will need to confirm my hunch, but I don’t think Mendez turned against you. My bet is he was picked first because Crawford knew he was the weak link. The other two went along with it. Since he fell early and my car hit him, Crawford simply continued the same story to keep the scare on you.”

“But what if I took their advice tonight and left for the police?”

The old man stared at the shamus after the question. Ray grunted.

“First, it was unlikely since you’ve been living in fear for a while. He knew you’re the type to dig a deeper hole. Hell, he’s seen it many times. Second, Crawford softened his stance about that as the night progressed. I knew he would try to convince you not to go. After all, he finally removed his last partner right after he choked you. He planned on collecting the entire windfall. The change meant we both had to die. No other options were available to him. The fact that he was playing this game against me just spiced it up for him. Your broker has an inflated ego.”

“Still, you’re implying that this entire night is my fault in some way.” Anderson suddenly exploded. “I trusted everyone implicitly. I’m not to blame for people betraying me.”

Ray Irish smug smile at Anderson caused the old man to frown.

“Sure, you trusted everyone. Staying in this place as a recluse until your servants turned against you. Yet, you never noticed change. I’ll bet you never even asked them about their lives. You hauled me out here because the sheriff would tell you to leave the house since no crimes happened. You already knew that answer was coming. Yet, somehow you thought I’d be Perry Mason and figure out who did it in a half hour so you could go back to your life. There’s a reason they call you a skinflint.”

He stepped away from the door and leaned over the broker.

“Like I said earlier, you get to help me haul Crawford to the police station. Now, before we go, open up your case and pay me my fee for the night. I don’t want you to suddenly forget you hired me.”

THE END

[Author’s Note: Thanks for reading this short story that still needs work]