The Cases of Hildegarde Withers (35 page)

“Oh,
it’s
you!”
muttered
the
Inspector,
without
enthusiasm,
as
he
turned
to
face
Miss
Hildegarde
Withers.
“You
know,
someday
I’m
going
to
smash
that
radio
of
yours,
so
help
me.”

“I
wasn’t
listening
in
on
your
old
police
calls,”
snapped
the
maiden
schoolteacher
indignantly.
“I
was
right
here
in
the
neighborhood,
shopping
for
an
apartment,
and
I
heard
the
sirens
…
”

“All
right,
all
right,”
he
told
her.
“Run
along.”
Lieutenant
Grosskopf
now
interrupted,
bearing
a
brick
partially
wrapped
in
white
tissue
paper,
with
festive
red
string
and
gilt
stickers.
“That’s
what
the
guy
used,
eh?”
Piper
took
the
brick,
hefted
it,
and
then
handed
it
into
the
custody
of
the
handsome
young
sergeant,
in
spite
of
Miss
Withers’
obvious
interest.
“Stop
trying
to
act
like
a
detective,
Hildegarde,”
Piper
went
on.
“There’s
no
tracing
a
used
brick.”

He
passed
on
inside
the
jewelry
store,
intent
upon
finding
the
witnesses
to
the
crime.
The
sergeant
followed,
with
notebook
in
readiness,
and
Miss
Withers,
trying
to
look
as
much
like
the
Invisible
Man
as
possible,
tagged
along.

There
wasn’t
too
much
to
be
got
from
the
witnesses.
John
Asch,
doorman
at
Carnegie
Hall,
had
heard
the
alarms
and
the
shot,
and
had
looked
down
the
street
in
time
to
glimpse
the
departing
roadster,
which
he
thought
was
a
1938
Ford
coupe.
“It
all
happened
so
quick!”
he
complained.
“A
blonde
dame
with
goggles
was
driving.”

Miss
Marcia
Lee
Smith,
who
admitted
that
she
was
late
of
Savannah,
Georgia,
and
now
in
New
York
to
take
up
the
study
of
violin,
was
making
the
most
of
her
adventure.
“I
was
jus’
walking
along
the
street,
to
save
taxi
fare,
you
know,
and
I
heard
a
great
tremendous
crash
and
the
alarms
and
everything.
I
looked
up
and
there
was
a
man
—
a
great,
tall,
dark
man,
sort
of
foreign-looking
—
and
he
ran
out
into
the
street
and
jumped
in
the
car
and
away
they
went.
Ooh,
was
I
scared!”

Marcia
Lee’s
round
young
shoulders
shivered
deliciously
to
indicate
how
scared
she
had
been.
She
was
doubtful
about
the
make
of
the
car,
but
very
positive
about
her
description
of
the
bandit.
“He
was
awful
tall
—
taller
even
than
this
gentleman
heah,”
she
insisted,
looking
up
at
Sergeant
Mains
and
letting
her
lashes
fall
across
her
dimpled
cheeks.

“Okay,
folks.
Leave
your
names
and
addresses
with
the
Sarge,
and
then
you
can
go.”
Inspector
Piper
turned
away,
then
suddenly
confronted
Miss
Hildegarde
Withers.
“Now
what
are
you
sleuthing
at?”
he
demanded.
“I
thought
I
told
you
—
”

“Nothing,
Oscar.
Nothing
at
all,”
she
insisted.
Which
was
mostly
true.
It
had
occurred
to
her
that
the
sergeant
ought
to
be
taking
Marcia
Lee
Smith’s
address
and
telephone
number
down
in
his
official
notebook
instead
of
in
the
little
red
address
book
which
he
had
produced
from
an
inner
pocket,
but
that
was
nobody’s
business
but
his
own.

The
last
witness
to
be
interviewed
was
the
Vanderbock
in
charge
of
the
store,
a
dapper,
narrow-shouldered
young
man
in
spats,
who
had
been
the
only
one
in
the
place
to
have
even
a
fleeting
glimpse
of
the
bandit,
and
who
seemed
very
vague
about
that.

“I
was
in
the
rear
of
the
store
with
the
staff,
making
plans
for
the
anniversary
sale
tomorrow,”
he
admitted.
“I
heard
the
tinkle
of
glass,
and
looked
up
to
see
a
man
—
a
man
with
a
hat
—
grabbing
things
out
of
the
display
window.
Then
he
was
gone.”
Vanderbock
shrugged.
“Anyway,
the
most
valuable
piece
in
the
window,
a
flawless
25-carat
emerald
ring,
was
overlooked
by
the
thief.
And
the
diamonds
he
took
were
fully
insured.”

“Funny
he
left
that
25-carat
hunk
of
green
ice,”
said
Piper
worriedly.
“Okay.
Make
out
a
complete
list
and
description
of
the
missing
stones.”
He
turned.
“Hey,
Sarge!”

“I’ll
be
glad
to
take
down
the
list,”
Miss
Withers
hastily
offered.

The
Inspector’s
temper
was
short
today.
“Relax,
Hildegarde!”
he
ordered,
gesturing
toward
the
door
with
his
thumb.
“Sergeant!”