Murder by the Book

Wolfe took them in. "For this a new character is required, and we'll call him X. This will have to be a hodgepodge party, partly what he must have done and partly what he could have done. Certainly he spent some hours yesterday between noon and ten in the evening at Corrigan's apartment, composing and typing this document. Certainly Corrigan was there too. He had been hit on the head, and was either unconscious from the blow or had been tied and gagged. I prefer it that he was conscious, knowing something of X as I do, and that X, as he typed the confession-which may have been composed beforehand and merely had to be copied-read it aloud to Corrigan. He wore gloves, and, when he was through, he pressed Corri-gan's fingertips to the paper and envelope here and there, certainly on the postage stamp.

"I don't know whether his schedule was left to exigency or was designed, but I would guess the latter, for X is fond of alibis, and we'll probably find that he has one ready for last evening from nine-thirty to ten-thirty. Anyway, at ten o'clock he turned on the radio, if he hadn't already done so, hit Corrigan on the head again, at the same spot as before, with something heavy and hard enough to stun but not kill, put him on the floor near the telephone, and dialed my number. While talking to me, making the voice unrecognizable with huskiness and agitation, he pressed the muzzle of Corrigan's own revolver against his head and, at the proper moment, pulled the trigger and dropped the gun and the phone on the floor. He may also have fallen heavily to the floor himself; I think he would have. If he did he didn't stay there long. I said he was wearing gloves. He made Corrigan's dead hand grip the gun, put the gun on the floor, and left, perhaps twenty seconds after the shot had been fired. I haven't even inquired if the door had to be locked from the outside with a key; if it did, X had had ample opportunity to procure one. He dropped the letter to me, this confession, into the nearest mailbox. I lose him at the mailbox. We'll hear of his next move when we are confronted with his alibi."

Wolfe's eyes moved. "I invite comment."

Three lawyers spoke at once. Cramer outspoke them. "How much of it can you prove?"

"Nothing. Not a word."

"Then what does it get us?"