Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 315 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER VI

"OUTSIDE of what you pointed out to that kid reporter, you don't know anything more about this mess than I do, do you?" Vale asked Cranston.

"Truthfully, not for publication, for after all, we can't destroy my legend, I don't know a bit more than you do."

They had eaten and were at the theatre. The lights were dark. The theatre had been sealed by the police till some future date. It was eerie. Theatres seem to demand lights, life, some degree of action to save them from looking like a huge funeral parlor.

The policeman who had been detailed to keep a weather eye open was following them down the aisle of the pitch black theatre. He was stating querulously, "I don't see why the chief called me and said to show you around. You ain't a cop."

"How true. Maybe that's why your chief extended the courtesies to Mr. Cranston that he did." Vale said stuffily. The cop was getting on his nerves, or, he tried to be a bit more honest. The dismal darkness split only by the weak ray of the policeman's flashlight was getting him edgy. Cranston seemed as cool as a cucumber. He strode along down the aisle, briefcase under his arm as though he were keeping an appointment at the barber's.

Up ahead of them was the stage looking high and cavernous. They were about at the fifteenth row of the orchestra. It was then that it happened. Then that Ager's second murder began.

A single spotlight splashed across the huge empty stage. It stopped them cold in their tracks. The sudden brightness of the light acted to paralyze them.

Out into the limelight of the spot strode, jerked, would be a better word, the huge hulk that was Billy

Boy. He looked into the glare of the light end was blinded by it.

There was something pathetic about the big man. He fumbled so. His ugliness instead of being frightening was rather like the ugliness of a Saint Bernard.

His voice when he spoke was a croak. It was low and they had to strain their ears to hear. He said, "This is the on'y way... if on'y them dumb cops hadda held me, if they'da hung me, then it woulda been better...

but they wouldn't, the jerks.

"I killed Owden! Me... Billy Boy! I done it... I'm sorry now, but I wasn't when I done it..."

Cranston moved forward. This was ungodly. The man alone in the world as far as he knew, standing up in an empty theatre and delivering what? A suicide farewell?

Vale and the cop didn't move. They were too fascinated by what was happening on stage. Billy Boy had taken a straight edged razor out of his pocket.

Ager had told him not to do it for a couple of minutes. Far away his dull brain heard a door slam. He knew that meant that Ager was out of the theatre. The door slamming was the rear fire door. Now was the time for him to make up for killing Owden.

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