Shadow 203 - Crime at Seven Oaks 08-01-40, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

AT about the time when Clint and his tribe were leaving Kendry’s farm, Dr. Heverly stopped at the Northdale Hotel, to visit his patient there. Heverly found Cranston weaker, and used the fact as an argument in favor of his earlier advice.

“You need rest, as I said,” insisted Heverly. “What have you been doing - worrying yourself weary?”

“I suppose so,” replied The Shadow, in a tired tone. “I’ve been thinking how much I would have enjoyed a trip to the Cherry Tree Inn.”

“Better forget it,” said Heverly, as he shook a thermometer. “The inn isn’t open after all. Carl Thayner told me so, when he came back with Janice Melridge.”

“At least, they had a pleasant ride.”

“They didn’t seem to think so. They took the wrong road, and had trouble finding the place. Thayner was hungry and Janice was tired, when they arrived home.”

As Heverly left, he failed to hear the whispered laugh that came from Cranston’s lips. The Shadow was rather pleased that neither Thayner nor Janice had reported the battle at the crossroads. Then, his low mirth ending, he began to probe for some hidden reason for their silence.

None was apparent until morning, when Dr. Heverly called. Finding his patient completely rested, the physician displayed a copy of the flimsy local newspaper. It had a large headline, telling of tragedy. There wasn’t a mention of any battle at the crossroads. The news concerned an unfortunate farmer named Joshua Kendry, who had been killed and left on the road by a hit-and-run driver.

“I’ve seen the body,” declared Heverly. “Kendry was certainly struck hard. Killed instantly.”

“Any clues to the driver?” inquired The Shadow.

“A few,” replied the doctor. “The sheriff gathered all the fragments of a broken lens from a headlamp. He found a chunk of the car’s front bumper. Those ought to be enough to trace the car.”

“But not necessarily the driver.”

“There’s other evidence,” insisted Heverly. “A strip of leather, with a buckle, was found near the body. It might have belonged to Kendry, but the sheriff doubts it.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t anything he’d use around the farm. It’s a light strap, almost like a belt, which it may be.”

Heverly spread the newspaper, showed the paragraph where the story was continued. The mentioned clues were listed, as Heverly had given them. Reading the account, after Heverly had gone, The Shadow learned that the various exhibits were under lock and key in the sheriff’s office.

There had been too much crime around Northdale, according to Sheriff Rawley, and he intended to investigate the hit-and-run death of Kendry in a scientific way.

This was Saturday, and on Monday the sheriff expected a technical expert from New York. Such men had ways of remolding broken lenses and identifying odd parts of automobiles, to learn the make and model of the cars in question.

As for the strap, it would be dusted for fingerprints, its leather analyzed and traced to the manufacturer. By the time the expert was finished with the job, Northdale would know whose car killed Kendry and who had dropped the strip of leather on the road.

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