The Benson Murder Case / Дело Бенсона. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Exit wound in the left occipital region—base of skull,—you found the bullet, didn’t you? He was awake when shot, and death was immediate—probably never knew what hit him. … He’s been dead about—well, I should judge, eight hours; maybe longer.”

“How about twelve-thirty for the exact time?” asked Heath.

The doctor looked at his watch.

“Fits O. K. … Anything else?”

No one answered, and after a slight pause the Chief Inspector spoke.

“We’d like a post-mortem report to-day, doctor.”

“That’ll be all right,” Dr.

Doremus answered, snapping shut his medical case and handing it to his assistant. “But get the body to the Mortuary as soon as you can.”

After a brief hand-shaking ceremony, he went out hurriedly.

Heath turned to the detective who had been standing by the table when we entered.

“Burke, you ’phone Headquarters to call for the body—and tell ’em to get a move on. Then go back to the office and wait for me.”

Burke saluted and disappeared.

Heath then addressed one of the two men who had been inspecting the grilles of the front windows.

“How about that ironwork, Snitkin?”

“No chance, Sergeant,” was the answer. “Strong as a jail—both of ’em. Nobody never got in through those windows.”

“Very good,” Heath told him. “Now you two fellows chase along with Burke.”

When they had gone the dapper man in the blue serge suit and derby, whose sphere of activity had seemed to be the fireplace, laid two cigarette butts on the table.

“I found these under the gas-logs, Sergeant,” he explained unenthusiastically.

“Not much; but there’s nothing else laying around.”

“All right, Emery.” Heath gave the butts a disgruntled look. “You needn’t wait, either. I’ll see you at the office later.”

Hagedorn came ponderously forward.

“I guess I’ll be getting along, too,” he rumbled. “But I’m going to keep this bullet a while. It’s got some peculiar rifling marks on it. You don’t want it specially, do you, Sergeant?”

Heath smiled tolerantly.

“What’ll I do with it, Captain? You keep it.

But don’t you dare lose it.”

“I won’t lose it,” Hagedorn assured him, with stodgy seriousness; and, without so much as a glance at either the District Attorney or the Chief Inspector, he waddled from the room with a slightly rolling movement which suggested that of some huge amphibious mammal.

Vance, who was standing beside me near the door, turned and followed Hagedorn into the hall. The two stood talking in low tones for several minutes.