The Cases of Hildegarde Withers (36 page)

“But
Oscar,
I’ve
something
—
”
the
maiden
s
choolteacher
tried
to
continue.

“Later,
Hildegarde!
Run
along
now.”
And
the
Inspector
turned
his
back
on
her.

Miss
Withers
sniffed,
shrugged,
and
marched
toward
the
door.

“Sergeant,
if
you’re
through
with
the
witnesses,
will
you
take
down
this
list
of
stolen
property?”
the
Inspector
was
saying.
Then
he
was
interrupted
by
a
policeman,
who
brought
word
that
the
Commissioner
was
on
the
phone.

“There
it
starts!”
moaned
Oscar
Piper.
He
looked
around,
thinking
fast.
“Oh
—
tell
him
I’ve
just
left.”
And
he
started
for
the
door,
pausing
only
long
enough
to
tell
the
sergeant
that
he
would
be
at
the
drug
store
up
the
street,
and
that
no,
it
would
not
be
necessary
to
drive
witness
Marcia
Lee
Smith
home
in
the
Headquarters
limousine.

The
Inspector
caught
Miss
Withers
on
the
sidewalk,
a
very
ruffled
Miss
Withers
indeed.
“Okay,
Hildegarde,”
he
apologized.
“I’ll
buy
you
a
cup
of
coffee
to
make
up
for
throwing
you
out.
Only
it
makes
us
all
short-tempered
to
have
anything
like
this
happen.
A
cop
shot
down
in
his
tracks
—
and
we
don’t
know
a
thing
about
the
guy
who
did
it.”

“No,
Oscar?”
Only
slightly
mollified,
Miss
Withers
sank
down
on
a
stool
in
the
drug
store.
“How
about
the
witnesses?”

“Worthless,”
he
told
her.
“You
know
yourself
that
nine
witnesses
out
of
ten
make
up
a
long
story
about
the
tall
dark
foreign-looking
man
…
”
She
nodded,
and
he
went
on.
“So
we
start
from
nowhere.”

“Knowing
nothing
about
the
bandit,”
Miss
Withers
said
thoughtfully
as
she
looked
into
her
coffee
cup,
“nothing
except
that
he
is
a
man
between
thirty
and
forty
years
of
age,
about
five
feet
six
inches
tall,
wears
a
light
tan
raincoat
and
a
dark
hat,
is
an
experienced
crook
known
to
the
police,
and
is
new
to
the
jewel
racket.
And
that
he
is
an
egomaniac
with
a
twisted
sense
of
humor.
That’s
all?”

The
Inspector’s
cup
clattered
in
its
saucer.
“What?”

“Elementary,
my
dear
Oscar.
Who
else
but
an
egomaniac
would
wrap
the
brick
as
a
gift,
with
‘Happy
Birthday’
stickers
on
it,
just
because
it
was
the
jewelry
store’s
fiftieth
anniversary?
He
was
an
experienced
crook
because
of
the
neatness
and
swiftness
of
the
job.
Wanted
by
the
police
—
or
else
he
wouldn’t
have
been
desperate
enough
to
shoot
his
way
clear.
A
first
offender
asks
for
mercy
and
a
light
sentence.
And
the
bandit
is
new
to
the
jewel
trade,
or
he
wouldn’t
have
missed
the
big
emerald.
See?”

Piper
nodded
slowly.

“Shrewd
guessing.
But
the
rest
of
it
—
his
height
and
age
and
so
on
…
”

“I
know
that,”
Miss
Withers
confessed,
“because
I
looked.
I
came
around
the
corner
just
as
the
killer
jumped
for
his
car.
Oh,
don’t
look
at
me
that
way,
I
tried
to
tell
you.
Anyway,
no
man
over
forty
is
spry
enough
to
jump
as
he
jumped.
I
didn’t
see
his
face,
or
the
driver’s,
because
they
were
headed
the
other
way.
But
I
saw
his
height,
and
he
was
no
giant.”

“Not
bad,
Hildegarde,
not
bad
at
all,”
Oscar
Piper
was
forced
to
confess.
“Now
if
you
could
work
out
a
trap
to
catch
him
…
”

“Why
not
an
officer
in
every
jewelry
store
—
or
staked
out
across
the
street?”

Piper
shook
his
he
a
d.
“They’d
scare
him
off.
I
don’t
just
want
to
stop
this
series
of
robberies,
I
want
to
get
the
man
who
shot
Sam
Bodley.
He’ll
probably
strike
again
—
at
some
one
of
the
big
jewelry
stores
of
upper
Fifth
or
Madison
or
this
street.
”
Suddenly
the
Inspector
snapped
his
fingers.
“I’ve
got
it!
The
really
important
jewelry
stores
are
all
within
a
ten-block
area.
Tiffany’s,
Black,
Starr
&
Gorham
and
so
forth
—
all
of
them.
Each
store
has
alarm
wires
to
the
protective
association.
We’ll
reroute
those
wires
straight
to
the
radio
dispatcher
at
Headquarters.
Plant
men
in
radio
cars,
motorcycle
units,
and
stakeouts
so
that
thirty
seconds
after
the
next
smash
and
grab
alarm
we
have
a
police
cordon
drawn
tight
around
the
whole
section.
Nobody
gets
out,
nobody
gets
in.
We
tighten
the
cordon,
search
everybody,
watch
for
a
known
crook
or
somebody
acting
suspicious.”
He
grinned
.
“It’s
a
sort
of
dragnet.”