Table of Contents

  The Monkey Murder Erle Stanley Gardner

  The Monkey Murder Erle Stanley Gardner

  CHAPTER II BEAVER REPORTS

  CHAPTER III GUM CHEWERS

  CHAPTER IV PLANTED CLUE

  CHAPTER V THE RUBBER SUIT

  CHAPTER VI THE TWO TRICK CANES

  CHAPTER VII BEAVER’S DEDUCTIONS

  CHAPTER VIII BEAVERS BIG MOMENT

  The Monkey Murder Erle Stanley Gardner

  THERE IS A RICH tradition in mystery fiction of the Robin Hood thief, the sympathetic figure who steals from the rich to give to the deserving poor. Lester Leith, the hero of more than seventy novelettes, all written for the pulps, approached his thievery from a slightly different angle. He did steal from the rich, but only those who were themselves crooks, and he gave the money to charities—after taking a 20% “recovery” fee.

  Debonair, quickwitted, and wealthy, he enjoyed the perks of his fortune, checking the newspapers in the comfort of his penthouse apartment for new burglaries and robberies to solve, and from which he could reclaim the stolen treasures.

  He has a valet, Beaver, nicknamed “Scuttle” by Leith, who is a secret plant of Sergeant Arthur Ackley. Leith, of course, is aware that his manservant is an undercover operative, using that knowledge to plant misinformation to frustrate the policeman again and again.

  Leith is only one of a huge number of characters created by the indefatigable Erle Stanley Gardner (18891970), many of whom were criminals, including Ed Jenkins (the Phantom Crook), the sinister Patent Leather Kid, and Señor Arnaz de Lobo, a professional soldier of fortune and revolutionary.

  “The Monkey Murder” was first published in the January 1939 issue of Detective Story.

  The Monkey Murder Erle Stanley Gardner

  LESTER LEITH, his slender, wellknit form attired in a cool suit of Shantung pongee, sprawled indolently in the reclining wicker chair. The cool afternoon breezes filtered through the screened windows of the penthouse apartment. Leith’s valet, Beaver, nicknamed “Scuttle” by Lester Leith, ponderous in his obsequious servility, siphoned soda into a Tom Collins and deferentially placed the glass on the table beside his master’s chair.

  please don’t think I’m presumptuous, but I was about to venture to suggest— Well, sir—”

  “Come, come, Scuttle,” Lester Leith said. “Out with it. What is it?” “ About the crime news, sir,” the undercover man blurted. “It’s been some time since you’ve taken an interest in the crime news, sir.”

  If Leith had any knowledge that this man who served him, ostensibly interested only in his creature comforts, was in reality a police undercover man, planted on the job by Sergeant Arthur Ackley, he gave no indication. His slategray eyes, the color of darkly tarnished silver, remained utterly inscrutable as he stared thoughtfully at the bubbles which formed on the glass only to detach themselves and race upward through the cool beverage.

  The valet coughed.

  Leith’s eyes remained fixed, staring into the distance. The police spy squirmed uneasily, then said: “Begging your pardon, sir, was there something you wanted?”

  Leith, without turning his head, said, “I think not, Scuttle.” The big undercover man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeted uneasily, then said: “Begging your pardon, sir,

  Leith sipped his Tom Collins. “Quite right, Scuttle,” he said. “And it will probably be a much longer time before I do so.”

  “May I ask why, sir?” “ On account of Sergeant Ackley,” Leith said. “Damn the man, Scuttle. He’s like a woman convinced against her will, and of the same opinion still. Somewhere, somehow, he got it through that fat head of his that I was the mysterious hijacker who has been ferreting out the criminals who have made rich hauls, and relieving them of their illgotten spoils.”

  “Yes, sir,” the spy said. “He certainly has been most annoying, sir.” “ As a matter of fact,” Leith went on, “whoever that mysterious hijacker is—and I understand the police are firmly convinced there is such an individual—he has my sincere respect and admiration. After all, Scuttle, crime should be punished. Crime which isn’t detected isn’t punished. As I understand it, the criminals who have been victimized by this hijacker are men who have flaunted their crimes in the faces of the police and got away with it. The police have been unable to spot them, let alone get enough evidence to convict them. Then along comes this mysterious hijacker, solves the crime where the police have failed, locates the criminal, and levies a hundredpercent fine by relieving him of his illgotten gains. That, Scuttle, I claim is a distinct service to society.”

  “ Yes, sir,” the spy said. “Of course, you will admit that your charities for the widows and orphans of police and firemen killed in the line of duty, your donations to the associated charities and the home for the aged have been steadily mounting.”

  “ Yes, sir,” the spy said, lowering his voice. “And has it ever occurred to you, sir, that what Sergeant Ackley doesn’t know won’t hurt him?”

  “ Won’t hurt him,” Lester Leith exclaimed. “It’s what Sergeant Ackley doesn’t know that’s ruining him! If knowledge is power, Sergeant Ackley has leaky valves, loose pistons, scored cylinders, and burntout bearings. He’s narrowminded, egotistical, suspicious, mercenary, selfish, and pigheaded. In addition to all of which, Scuttle, I find that I don’t like the man.”

  “ Well, what of it, Scuttle? What the devil has that to do with the subject under discussion?”

  “ Begging your pardon, sir, I think the sergeant wonders where you’re getting the money, sir.”

  “ Yes, sir,” the spy said, “but if you’d only interest yourself in the crime clippings just once more, sir, I have several very interesting items saved up for you. And Sergeant Ackley would never know, sir.”

  Leith said reprovingly, “Scuttle, you’re trying to tempt me.” Lester Leith placed the halfempty glass back on the table, and reached for his cigarette case. “Confound the man’s impudence, Scuttle. What business is it of his where I get my money?”

  “ I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to… that is, really, sir. Well, of course, you may depend upon my discretion, sir.”

  “ Yes, sir, I understand, sir. Oh, quite, sir. But even so, sir, if you’ll pardon my making the suggestion, sir, it seems that you shouldn’t let such a trivial matter interfere with your enjoyment of life.”

  “My enjoyment of life, Scuttle?” “ Well, sir, I know that you always derived a great deal of pleasure from looking over the crime clippings. As you’ve so frequently remarked, you used to feel that a man could study the newspaper accounts of crime and in many cases spot the guilty party, just from the facts given in the newspapers.”

  Leith half turned in his chair. “I can trust you, Scuttle?” he asked, looking at the spy with his inscrutable silvergray eyes.

  “Absolutely, sir, with your very life, sir.” Lester Leith sighed, settled back, and tapped a cigarette on a polished thumbnail. “Scuttle,” he said, “perhaps it’s my mood, perhaps it’s the weather, perhaps it’s the drink; but I’ve decided to indulge in my hobby just once more, only mind you, Scuttle, this time it will be merely an academic pursuit. We’ll merely speculate on who the criminal might be and keep that speculation entirely to ourselves, a sacred confidence within the four walls of this room.”

  “I still maintain that can be done, Scuttle.” “ Yes, sir,” the spy said, quivering with eagerness as he pulled a sheaf of newspaper clippings from his pocket.

  daylight, deserves to lose his winnings. That’s an old gamblinghouse trick. What else do you have?”

  “Sit down, Scuttle,” Leith invited. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable.” “There was the woman who shot her husband and claimed—”

  “Very good, sir. Thank you, sir.” Lester Leith snapped a match into flame, held it to the tip of the cigarette, and inhaled deeply, extinguishing the match with a single smoky exhalation. “Proceed, Scuttle,” he said.

  “ Yes, sir. The affair of the Brentwood diamond seems to have been made to order for you, sir.”

  “Made to order for me. Scuttle?” “ Yes, sir,” the undercover man said, forgetting himself for the moment as he perused the newspaper clipping. “The police have never found the culprit. There’s a chance for you to make a good haul and—”

  “ Scuttle!” Lester Leith interrupted. “Tut, tut, Scuttle,” Lester Leith said. “You’ve been reading the tabloids again. That is completely stereotyped. She shot him because he had forfeited her respect. She shot him because she couldn’t demean herself to accept the status in life which he thought a wife should have. She had been married ten years, but she made the revolting discovery of his baser instincts at a time when a revolver happened to be handy. She snatched it from her purse, thinking only to bring him to his senses, and then she can’t remember exactly what happened. She thinks he started for her, and everything went blank. She felt the recoil of the revolver as it roared in her hand. Then she couldn’t remember anything until she found herself at the telephone notifying the police. That was right after she’d slipped out of her house dress and put on her best outfit.”

  The valet jumped. “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean it in that way, sir. What I meant—”

  “Never mind, Scuttle. We’ll pass the Brentwood diamond. What else do you have?”

  “That was the main one, sir.” “ Well, forget it, Scuttle.” “I see you’ve read it, sir,” the undercover man said. “I didn’t realize you were familiar with the c
ase. May I ask, if you don’t mind, sir, how you happened to know about it? Were they friends of yours?”

  “ I’m not familiar with that case,” Leith said wearily, “but with dozens of others of the same type. Come on, Scuttle; let’s have something fresh.”

  The spy thumbed through the clippings. “There’s the man who was choked and robbed of some two thousand dollars he’d won at gambling.”

  “ Skip it, Scuttle,” Lester Leith interrupted. “A man who wins two thousand dollars at gambling, and hasn’t sense enough to go to a downtown hotel and stay there until

  “ Well, sir, I don’t think there’s— Oh, yes, sir, here’s something rather unusual. The murder of a monkey, sir.”

  “ The murder of a monkey?” Leith said, turning half around, so that he could study the spy’s face. “Why the devil should anyone want to murder a monkey?”

  “ Well, of course, strictly speaking, sir, it isn’t murder, but I’ve referred to it as murder because if what the police suspect is true, that’s virtually what it amounted to… that is, sir, I trust you understand me… I mean—”

  “ I don’t understand you,” Lester Leith interrupted, “and I have no means of knowing what you mean except from what you say. Kindly elucidate, Scuttle.”

  following another from India to America just to kill a monkey and slit him open.”

  “ Yes, sir,” the spy said dubiously. “The police don’t know much about it. I don’t mind telling you, sir, however, that… well, perhaps I shouldn’t mention it.”

  “Go ahead,” Leith said. “What is it?” “ Yes, sir, it was a monkey belonging to Peter B. Mainwaring. Mr. Mainwaring was returning from a year spent abroad, principally in India and Africa.”

  “ Come, come, Scuttle,” Lester Leith said. “Get to the point. Why was the monkey murdered?”

  “ I think I mentioned at one time that one of my lady friends was quite friendly with a member of the force, not that she’s encouraged him, but he persists in—”

  “Yes, yes, I remember,” Leith said. “A policeman, isn’t it, Scuttle?”

  “No, sir. He’s been promoted to a detective.”

  “It was Mr. Mainwaring’s monkey, sir.”

  “And who killed it, Scuttle?” “Oh, yes, Scuttle. I remember now. Where’s he stationed?”

  “The police don’t know. It was a holdup man.” The spy said: “Begging your pardon, sir, I’d rather not talk about that. But I don’t mind repeating a bit of information occasionally.”

  “A holdup man, Scuttle?” “ Yes, sir. According to Mr. Mainwaring’s story, the bandit held up the automobile, shot the monkey through the head, and slit its body open. Mr. Mainwaring thinks the killer came from India. It’s some sort of a ceremony having to do with thuggee and the monkey priests who worship the monkeys and exact a death penalty from any monkey that deserts the clan.”

  “ Am I to understand,” Lester Leith asked, “that this detective habitually tells this young woman police secrets, and the young woman in turn makes a practice of passing them on to you?”

  The big spy smirked. “That’s rather a bald statement, sir.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that before,” Leith said.

  “Bald, nothing,” Leith observed; “you are doubtless referring to its whiskers.”

  “Beg your pardon, sir?” “Yes, sir. That’s the story that Mr. Mainwaring has given to the police.” “ Bosh and nonsense,” Lester Leith said. “Thuggee is one thing; the monkey worship of India is entirely different… that is, there’s no possible connection which could result in a man

  Leith said: “Nothing, Scuttle. I was merely making a comment to myself. Go on. Tell me what you were going to say about Mainwaring.”

  “ Well, sir, the police had an idea that Mainwaring may have been in league with a gang of smugglers and that he may have killed the monkey himself in order to cover up the real reason of the holdup. Or, then again, the man may have been an accomplice who had been tricked, and shot at Mainwaring and hit the monkey instead.

  and his breast nipples consist of two huge emeralds. It seems that some adventurer managed to gain access to this temple and substituted bits of green glass for the emeralds. The substitution wasn’t discovered for some time.”

  “And what has this to do with Mainwaring’s smuggling?” Lester Leith asked. “ You may be interested in knowing that the police have reason to believe Mainwaring left India in fear of his life.”

  “ The police, sir, have reason to believe that it was Mainwaring who made the substitution.”

  “What has all this to do with smuggling, Scuttle?”

  “Peter B. Mainwaring?” Lester Leith asked.

  “Well, sir, if the native rumors are true, sir, Mainwaring may have slipped two very valuable gems to some native accomplice with instructions to smuggle them into this country. The gems weren’t in the car with Mainwaring, but he may have had them in India and intrusted this native to—”

  “What gems, Scuttle?” The valet nodded. Leith said thoughtfully: “Now, Scuttle, you interest me. You interest me very much indeed. I think you’ll agree with me, Scuttle, that if that were the truth, Mainwaring shouldn’t be allowed to retain the fruits of his nefarious action.”

  “The jewels of the monkey god, sir.” “ The jewels of the monkey god? Come, come, Scuttle; this is beginning to sound like one of Sergeant Ackley’s wild accusations.”

  “ Yes, sir. Over in India there’s the special god for monkeys, a god that’s named… Hanne… Hanney—”

  “ Yes, sir,” the spy agreed, his eyes eager. “Only Mainwaring apparently doesn’t have them.”

  “ And, by the same sign,” Leith said, “you will also admit that there is nothing to be gained by sending these stones back to the jungle to become part of the anatomy of a heathen idol.”

  “Hanuman?” Lester Leith suggested. “Yes, sir, I agree with you upon that absolutely, sir,” the spy said with alacrity. “ Yes, sir. That’s it, sir. Hanuman. I remember the name now that you’ve helped me, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “ Under the circumstances,” Leith announced, “we’ll consider the murder of this monkey, Scuttle. Tell me about it.”

  “What about Hanuman, the monkey god?” Lester Leith asked. “ It seems that back in the jungles, sir, there’s a huge statue of the monkey god. He’s covered with gold leaf. His eyes were emeralds,

  “ Yes, sir. Well, you see, sir, the police had been notified. They thought that perhaps Mr. Mainwaring was bringing the emeralds in with him although Mainwaring had denied having them in his possession or knowing anything about them. He admitted that he had been in that section of the country at about the time the stones disappeared. In fact, he said it was due to this fact and only to this fact that the natives thought he was responsible for the theft.”

  “ Yes,” Leith said. “I can understand how it would happen that a white man, under such circumstances, would be considered responsible for the loss by ignorant or superstitious natives. Perhaps Mainwaring was telling the truth after all, Scuttle.”

  “ Well, sir. You see, it was this way, sir. The police and the customs officials were watching Mainwaring closely. Mainwaring made no declaration of the gems, nor did a most thorough search of his baggage reveal them. But he must have been mixed up with Indian gangsters, the disciples of thuggee. At any rate, this stickup looks like it.”

  “Mainwaring was traveling alone?” Lester Leith asked.

  “His nurse was with him, sir.” “ His nurse, Scuttle?” “Yes, sir. Airdree Clayton is her name. There’s a photograph of both of them here if you’d like to see it, sir.”

  Lester Leith nodded. The big spy passed across the newspaper photograph. Leith looked at it and then read the caption.

  Peter B. Mainwaring and his nurse, Airdree Clayton, who have just returned from extensive travels in India and Africa. While customs officials were going through the baggage of himself and nurse with what Mainwaring indignantly insisted was unusual thoroughness, Miss Clayton sat on a table in the inspector’s office, chewed gum, and entertained Mr. Mainwaring’s pet monkey. This monkey was subsequently killed in a most mysterious holdup. Mainwaring threatened to report the customs officials for rudeness, unnecessary search, and unfounded accusations. Miss Clayton, on the other hand, said the customs inspector was “delightful,” and returned to his office after having been searched by a matron, to thank the inspector for his consideration.