Free Stab in the Dark by Louis Trimble

for size. How could anyone without being deliberate about it gouge such a hole in the chair that a little larger sized screw wouldn’t bite and hold? That’s the first point. In other words, why didn’t Jock just get a little bigger screw and put it in.”
    “Because the hole was all gouged cockeyed,” Beeker said. “I saw the chair. The girl made a mess trying to fix it herself.”
    “Sure,” Knox said. “I saw the chair too.” He shook his head. “Point the second. Jock delivers the chair before he goes to McEwen and reports the murder. That was odd. If he was in such a panic as he claimed, why didn’t he dump the chair when he hit the lobby level and run straight to McEwen?”
    “The dame wanted a chair,” Beeker growled in imitation of Maddy Keehan. “The guy had chivalry.” He shrugged and said in his normal voice, “People do funny things under shock, Paul.”
    “I know,” Knox said. “I told you it might be a waste of time. But let’s add one more thing. Earlier tonight, I went down to the workshop to look at the chair. I saw what you saw. And then someone turned out the light on me and sapped me. When I came to, that chair was gone and a different one had been substituted. To me, that makes Jock’s little chivalrous gesture seem queer.”
    Beeker said, “Sapped you—who?”
    “If I knew,” Knox said, “I might have a lead to go on.”
    “Just to get a chair?”
    “It seems so, doesn’t it.”
    “That Deane dame …” Beeker began musingly.
    “I had dinner with the Deane dame, as you call her.”
    “We know that. You also had a drink with the Tinsleys. And you had the Deane girl in your room.”
    “Strictly business.”
    “I’m glad to hear that. Then you had a drink with her and left her some hours ago.”
    Knox grinned. “Who’s being covered?”
    “Both of you,” Beeker admitted. “Maddy put a tail on you.”
    “Then you know that I went to my room and worked after leaving the bar. I was there until you called.”
    Beeker said irritably, “We know you’re clean, damn it. But now, after what happened to Jock, we’ll have to keep a double check on the girl.”
    “What am I, the kiss of death?”
    “Could be,” Beeker said. Having nothing more to eat, he sat and moodily tugged at his lower lip. Then, with a sigh as though succumbing to a temptation he couldn’t resist, he ordered more coffee. He said, “This hocus pocus about the chair bothers me, Paul. Maybe the girl didn’t tell us everything she knew.”
    Knox had found that in most cases working with the police was an advantage. They had the organization and the facilities to check things no individual could. But there were times when police routine became a handicap. He hesitated now, not sure yet just how this was going to shape up. There were a lot of questions about Cora Deane that he wanted answered, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted the the police to have those answers—yet.
    He said, “If she didn’t tell you everything she knew, she didn’t tell me either. I confronted her with the business of the chair. She claimed she did it all with her little screwdriver.”
    “And you getting sapped—did you tell her about that?”
    “Yes. I don’t think she even believed me.”
    Beeker shrugged. “Well, these things take time. I’ve got a good man on her. If she isn’t on the level, she’ll trip up sooner or later.”
    Knox was glad to leave it at that. Beeker’s coffee came. He sugared, sipped and then leaned forward. “Paul, frankly, we’re stumped on Auffer and now on Jock. But you came here for the same purpose as Auffer. If there’s anything that will help, I want it.”
    “Auffer had all the dope,” Knox reminded him.
    “I know. I know. How about the Tinsleys?”
    Knox spread his hands. “Nothing yet—if there’s anything there. It may have just been a social acquaintance with Auffer. They’re his kind of people.” He told of his conversation and his bet.
    Beeker whistled. “A thousand