Murder of a Startled Lady by Anthony Abbot

Author:Anthony Abbot [Abbot, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-27T00:00:00+00:00

5

Alfred Keplinger came to us, fresh, or rather, wilted, from a three-hour third degree—a very short ordeal, as police practice goes. I know the third degree is a cruel institution. I cannot argue with its detractors on that point; I can only say that those in police work have not learned how to succeed without it in some cases. No one had struck Alfred Keplinger. Physical violence is used[Pg 166] only on the lowest of criminals, creatures who respond to pain and to nothing else; sentimentalists to the contrary, there are such creatures in your work; we meet them every day. For men like Alfred Keplinger there is instead a mental third degree—long hours of questioning, without physical punishment of any kind. Keplinger was not denied food or water or attention to his bodily wants. Tales of such practices are generally lies. But all night long Keplinger would have to go on, listening to questions and giving answers. Often they would be questions that he had already answered, not once but several times. Everything he said would be taken down by stenographers, typed immediately and studied by relays of two or three detectives—fresh, vigorous, steamed-up men who would go after him with more questions when others had finished with him. Meanwhile every verifiable statement he made was being checked. Every contradiction, every variation in his testimony, was noticed and he was confronted with it, unsympathetically and sceptically. More, he was subjected to emotional attacks. Some of his inquisitors were bullies; others soft-spoken and friendly. All were there to trap him if they could. This I know and say was cruel—but it was necessary. Already Alfred Keplinger showed the strain of those last few hours, with their incessant barrage. The pale-faced, goggle-eyed young medical student stood before us, his hair tousled because he had run his hands through it so many times; he was tired out and listless and he looked at Thatcher Colt as a man might look at Death, after a long and painful illness.

"Sit down, Keplinger."

The student slumped into a chair.

"You've been telling my men lies."

The witness nodded listlessly.[Pg 167]

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?"

"I want to see my sister."

"That's all right. So do I."

"She won't believe I did any murder."

"It doesn't matter whether she does, or whether she doesn't—if you are guilty."

"Is Josephine here?"

"No. She will be here to-morrow."

"Can I see her then?"

"Only if you tell the truth."

"Sure! I'll tell the truth."

"Well, did you see Madeline Swift a second time that day or didn't you?"

"I did not."

"But she did come to your apartment and took your suitcase."

"Yes—your men have been after me about that."

"You contradicted yourself on that, you know."

"Yes, sir."

"Isn't it a fact you're really in love with Verna?"

"Verna?"

"Don't quake. Nobody's going to hurt you. Why should the telephone operator up at your house make so many calls from you to Waynesville ... What's the matter?" Colt's voice was harsh. "Can't you explain all those expensive calls upstate?"

"I won't say anything."

"That's right. Mind your sister! That's what got you into all this, in the first place.

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