Chapter V: Dad Takes a Hand

Slowly Dad Anderson looked around at the circle of wide-eyed, white faces.

“And yuh fellows, who have known Dick Lamb for years and trusted him with your money and all of that, let a smart guy from the city come in and run a blazer on you like that!” he exclaimed.

Here and there a man squirmed uncomfortably and lowered his eyes. “Yeah,” went on the old constable, “what’s more, yuh was gettin’ all worked up and talkin’ about lynchin’ him and all that sort o’ stuff. I heard yuh when I come ridin’ up. That’s the sort of neighbors yuh are. Here yuh have been takin’ yourselves seriously and gettin’ set against a man yuh’ve known for years, and gettin’ real hysterical about it. Yuh wanted to do somethin’ to show how yuh felt an’ to give yourselves a chance to share in the detectin’ of this here crime, an’ yuh was goin’ to form a mob.

“Now, like I said before, there’s other things that don’t change besides the skin on the tips of a man’s fingers. If a man’s finger tips stays the same I guess his soul does, too. Does any of you people know whether Ben Drake went to the picture show last night?”

There was a moment’s silence at this abrupt change in the constable’s manner, and then one of the men on the outskirts of the crowd raised his voice.

“Yes, he was at the show. He sat three rows in front of me.”

The old constable nodded. “That’s about the way I figured it. Now, Dick, if you’ll think back you’ll remember that yesterday was a pretty warm day. I’m wonderin’ if yuh didn’t happen to drop in here for a drink o’ sody water?”

The prisoner nodded, and, as he nodded, Mears spoke up in a thin, piping voice, rasping with exasperation.

“Anderson, you’re an old fool! That’s what I been tellin’ yuh all the time. He’s been hangin’ around here every day, watchin’ that safe like a cat watches a mouse. I never thought of it until after this detective here pointed things out to me the way he done.”

Dad Anderson held up his hand, while he addressed another question to the prisoner. “Dick, I wonder if yuh happened to sit up on top o’ that safe while yuh was in here. Maybe you dropped in after the bank closed and had the sody water an’ a chat?”

Suddenly there came a voice from the crowd again. “Yes, he did, Dad. I remember seeing him up there on the top of the safe. There’s nearly always some one sits up there when we’re waitin’ for the mail, and I remember Dick Lamb was sittin’ up there yesterday, drinkin’ his soda.”

“That’s the way I figured things,” modestly explained the constable, edging his way, a bit at a time, around the show case, where the principal figures in the drama were gathered. “That’s the way I figgered those finger prints were made on the top o’ that safe door. They looked just like some one had been sittin’ up there and took a hold of the top of the safe when he jumped down. Yesterday was a pretty warm day, and a man’s hands would be sweaty. Nobody seemed to notice that them finger prints was upside down. I figgered that out as soon as I seen them; but every one was so busy lookin’ at the finger-print stuff and watchin’ this here city detective that they didn’t take the time to use their heads, so I decided that I’d sort of hold up, until things got quieted down a bit, before I started out to find out about what happened. I liked Ben Drake, just the same as yuh all did, and I wouldn’t lay down on investigatin’ his death; but there’s times when there ain’t no use runnin’ around and tryin’ to get any place, because yuh run in circles.

“Yuh was all so busy lookin’ around at these here finger prints that there was a lot o’ things about the blowin’ up o’ that safe that yuh didn’t notice. Take the books, for instance. Yuh notice they was all blown to bits, and that there was scraps o’ paper all around the office, and then that inner door. Yuh folks didn’t notice that inner door very much. If yuh will notice where the hinges were on that inside door, yuh will see that the inside door was blown out instead o’ in. I ain’t never had very much experience with safe crackers, but I’ve read a bit about how they work, and how it’s done; and it stands to reason that when a man pours soup down inside of a little hole in the top of the door and lets it run around the edges of the safe, and then sets it off, that the inner door will be left just about as it was or else blown in. Bein’ away from the center of town, there wasn’t much chance of an explosion bein’ heard way down here, but it wasn’t such an awful heavy explosion.

“If yuh folks will just take a look at that safe and use your heads a little bit, you’ll see that the safe was opened and then a stick o’ dynamite put inside, and then the safe was closed after the fuse was lit. At that, old Silas Mears ain’t as mean as lots o’ people think. He just played in hard luck. He’d been saltin’ away cash, and lots o’ people knew about it, and his books showed it. Then he got to listenin’ to these here radio talks and got infected with the city bug, and he started in to make his store a big thing, and he got indebted for lots o’ merchandise and fixtures, and it occurred to him it might be better to salt away all the cash he could and then, just before his creditors grabbed holt, to dynamite his own safe, after he’d taken all the money outa it, and let the creditors hold the sack.

“He’d been hearin’ over the radio all this talk about finger prints from this here city detective, and he figgered that, if he could get that bird on the job, none o’ the rest of us would have any chance of gettin’ a look-in, and that the city chap would be busy with the finger prints. He waited until the time was about ripe, and then he saw that Dick Lamb had planted a good set of finger prints on the safe, so he decided to stage the robbery that night, figgerin’ that Lamb would come in for some suspicion, and that he could plant a little gold out in Lamb’s barn and cinch a case on him.

“It just happens that sometimes, when Ben Drake’s been out at the picture show, he drops in here to clean up the place on his way home, instead of gettin’ down so early in the mornin’, and he dropped in that night and caught old Silas Mears at work, and the thing gone so far that Mears couldn’t back out. Yuh see, Ben Drake is pretty big and powerful, and he hadn’t been in no scrap. He was just struck down, and there ain’t any evidence that he done any strugglin’. That shows that when he dropped in here and found some one workin’ over the safe, it wasn’t any one that made him raise a holler or start a fight. He just walked over to see what Mears was findin’ wrong with the safe, and then’s when Mears got frightened an’ acted on impulse an’ banged him over the head.”

Dad Anderson interrupted himself to stretch forth a long arm and grab the frightened Silas Mears by the collar, as that merchant started for the door.

“No, ye don’t, Silas, no, ye don’t! I know how yuh feel, and I’m sorry for yuh, but I ain’t as sorry as I would have been if yuh hadn’t set back and fixed things so Dick Lamb here would have been tried in your place.”

Over the face of Big Bill Poindexter had come a flush. His jaw sagged, and his cigar drooped to a point where it was pointed toward the floor. Somehow, the big frame of the man seemed to deflate, and he listened to Dad Anderson and saw the cringing attitude of Silas Mears.

“I’m tellin’ yuh,” continued old Dad Anderson, turning to the detective from the city, “by the time yuh get as old as I am and have seen as much of the world as I have, yuh’ll learn that there’s other things than finger prints and these here newfangled contraptions. Finger prints is only skin deep, but a man’s character is a whole lot deeper than the skin on the tips of his fingers.

“Come on, Dick, let’s take the missus and little Margy home. The kid’s been without her supper so long she’s gettin’ faint, poor little cuss.”

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 15, 1926 issue of Top-Notch Magazine.]