The D.A. Breaks an Egg

“Indeed!” Mrs. Lennox said, acidly. “And now will you please notify the police?”

4

Doug Selby was wakened by the sound of gentle but persistent knuckles on the door of his apartment.

“Doug, oh Doug!”

Selby sat up in bed, switched on the light. “Just a moment,” he called.

Selby threw a robe around himself, kicked his feet into slippers, went to the door, then paused cautiously. “Who is it?”

“Rex Brandon, Doug,” the sheriff said.

Selby unlocked the door and pulled it open, grinning as he said, “Guess I’m getting a little suspicious, what with one thing and another.”

“You keep right on being suspicious,” Rex Brandon said. “This county is changing a lot, Doug. Police have found a body down in the park. I left word nothing was to be touched, that they were to rope off a place around the body and block the road in both directions. I thought you’d like to go down.”

Selby nodded, started dressing.

The sheriff settled himself in a chair, pulled a cloth sack of tobacco from his pocket, and started rolling a cigarette. His face, grizzled by years spent in the saddle during the time he had been a cattleman, was crinkled with lines of character which made little calipers at the corners of his mouth, crow’s-feet out from his eyes, giving him an expression of whimsical good nature.

“What is this body?” Selby asked, getting into his clothes. “Is this a murder?”

“Looks like it,” Brandon said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have got you up.”

“Where’s Otto Larkin, the chief of police?”

“I don’t know, probably on the job. He’s going to be tickled to death that this case is within the city limits, so he can strut around and be important. However, I left word that nothing was to be touched and I think that the officer was properly impressed by what I said.”

“Larkin will probably wait for us,” Selby said, lacing his shoes. “He’s been co-operating with us — lately.”

He finished with his shoes, picked up his hat and a flashlight, said, “Let’s go.”

They walked down to the big county car. Brandon said apologetically, “I should have taken a look first, Doug, before I got you out of bed. It may not be anything at all, but from the way it was described to me, I thought it was a case we were going to have to work on, and...”

“Now don’t start explaining or apologizing,” Selby said, grinning. “You know darned well, Rex, that when we’re working on a case which may develop into a trial, I want to have a look at the evidence while it’s on the ground.”

“Well, from all I can gather, this is that kind of a case,” Brandon said. “Of course, I got the dope over the telephone. Interesting bit of psychology there, Doug. The man who made the discovery was on the city police force. He telephoned in to headquarters and then he telephoned me.”

“The officer himself?”

“The officer himself,” Brandon said, smiling. “As far as I know, the night deputy on duty up at the Courthouse hasn’t heard a word yet from police headquarters.”

“Who was it who notified us?” Selby asked.

“Frank Bassett. You remember he worked on that case involving the unidentified corpse in the auto court, and he seems to be a good man. He’s more interested in getting cases solved than he is in trying to grab credit, and that means a lot.”

Selby laughed and said, “It certainly does mean a lot. You don’t encounter that attitude very often. I’ll bet Larkin will have fits when we show up, and he hasn’t as yet given orders to have us notified.”

Brandon grinned. “We’ll have to protect Bassett, of course,” and then swung the car around the corner, slowed down and eased into the graveled driveway of the park, where a sign said, “Orange Park — Madison Agricultural Station — Limit Twenty Miles per Hour.”

Headlights reflected from the white-graveled driveway, giving a brilliant illumination. Then the car came to a barrier in the middle of the driveway, indicating that the road was closed to all traffic.

A big, rawboned man in police uniform, moving with the easy grace of an athlete, stepped out of the shadows, recognized the county car, said, “Hello, Sheriff. How are you, Mr. Selby?”

Selby got out and Bassett, moving close to Brandon, said in a low voice, “I haven’t told the Chief...”

“It’s okay, Frank,” Brandon said. “We’ll protect you.”

“The Chief’s over there with the body,” Bassett said.

They started walking across the grass, then paused as a flashlight blazed into their faces for a moment, then was extinguished. A voice said, “Well, well, Sheriff Brandon and Doug Selby!”

There was surprise in the voice.

Brandon said, in his slow, cowboy drawl, “Hello, Larkin. What’s the trouble?”

“How did you get here?” Larkin demanded, and then added as an afterthought, “so soon.”

“Heard the road was blocked, and that you had something down here,” Brandon said. “What seems to be the trouble, Larkin?”