In fact, we all live here.”
Bridie reappeared and said tearfully, “Will you come in, please.”
Kenneth Fairfaxx held out a restraining hand and said, “But I thought first—Mr. Malone—” He drew the hand back and quickly said, “Well, never mind. You’ll have to take him away with you, I suppose. But will you come back, as soon as you can? I want to have a word with you.”
Malone promised that he would, and went on into Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx’s study with von Flanagan, wondering what his new client was going to be like.
He wasn’t like anything Malone had expected. The little lawyer had met a number of assorted murderers in his lifetime, but none of them remotely resembled this one. Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx was a gentle-looking old man, even shorter than his nephew, and very frail, with wispy, snow-white hair and tired, rather vague blue eyes. The room he was in seemed incongruously large for so small an occupant, with its wide paneled walls and massive furniture, yet it was a warm, cheerful, sunlit room for all that.
The old man greeted them at the door and said, “I must apologize for keeping you waiting. I’ve been busy cataloguing my stamp collection and I was just putting it away.
I suppose you want to see me about that wretched postman business.”
“That’s right,” von Flanagan said. He looked unhappy and embarrassed. Finally he introduced Malone.
“Oh yes,” Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx said, smiling and holding out his hand. “Kenneth said something to me about arranging for a lawyer. I didn’t quite understand it. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying very close attention.”
Malone mentally damned von Flanagan up, down, cross-ways and sideways, for being afraid to make the pinch, and said, “I’m your lawyer, Mr. Fairfaxx, because you’re under arrest, for suspicion of murder. Don’t worry because I’ll get you out of it, and don’t say anything in front of this—” He caught himself just in time and glared at von Flanagan.
“Murder?” Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx said questioningly. His mild old eyes widened. “But I haven’t murdered anybody.”
“There seems to be an impression,” Malone said, “that you murdered three postmen.”
The old man looked more puzzled than alarmed. “But that’s quite absurd. Why should I? Why should anybody want to murder a postman?”
“Why indeed,” von Flanagan said, with what tried to pass for cheerfulness. “Just the same, you’re under arrest.”
Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx submitted to the arrest very amiably, bewildered, but anxious to be agreeable, and in no way worried. Once he said, “I suppose if you say I murdered those men, it must be so, but I assure you—” And von Flanagan’s eyes met Malone’s in a significant look.
That was his only protest. He locked up his stamp collection. He rang for Violet, who came in looking more than ever like a badly-cared-for ghost, and asked her to pack a few things for him. She nodded and went away. Malone found himself wondering if she ever spoke at all, or if her conversation was limited to nods and shakes of the head.
At last they were ready to leave. Rodney Fairfaxx told his niece and nephew not to worry, bade them an affectionate farewell and then said, almost apologetically, to von Flanagan, “Would you mind waiting a few more minutes? The afternoon mail is almost due, and I’m expecting a letter—”
They waited. There was no letter for Rodney Fairfaxx.
Chapter 3
Little old Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx proved to be a charming and agreeable companion, even in a police car. He asked genuinely interested questions regarding the way the siren would sound from inside the car, and received a brief demonstration.
In return, he commented favorably on the efficiency of the police department, and added, “I don’t get out very much, you know. In fact, it’s been years since I left my house. This is quite an experience for me.”
Malone’s eyes met von Flanagan’s across the little man’s head. Quite an experience indeed, to be carted off to jail, as a murderer.
At one point on Lake Shore Drive, Mr. Fairfaxx looked out the window and exclaimed, “The old McClane mansion! The last time I was there was Mona’s first marriage, that must have been—heavens and earth!—twenty years ago!” He beamed at Malone and said, “If I’m not mistaken, you handled a very difficult situation for Mona, and handled it expertly.” He smiled, shyly and said, “You see, I do read the papers!”
“It wasn’t so very difficult,” Malone said modestly. “An open and shut case of self-defense.”
“Self-defense!” Rodney Fairfaxx closed his eyes for a moment. “I suppose, if I should be tried for murder, I ought to claim it was in self-defense. That’s rather standard, isn’t it? Except, I don’t know why postmen would go around attacking people.”
Again Malone’s eyes met von Flanagan’s. The big policeman’s mouth framed the words, “Behavior Clinic.” Malone shook his head and his lips said silently, “I’ll pick the alienist.”
The necessary formalities were gone through quickly and as painlessly as possible. Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx was interested in and delighted with everything. He even agreed that the cell would be pleasantly comfortable. But there were three things he had to say to Captain von Flanagan.
“I’m sure I haven’t murdered anybody. Of course I am absent-minded, but I wouldn’t forget a thing like that, would I? Are you sure you aren’t making a mistake?”
Von Flanagan cleared his throat and said, “You’d better discuss that with Mr. Malone.”
“And another thing. In the haste in which we left my home, I neglected to leave a forwarding address. Could you arrange that for me? You see, I’m expecting a rather important letter.”
Von Flanagan, looking very unhappy, assured him that it could be managed very easily.
“Just one more question, if you don’t object. I’ve read about you in the papers, and I’ve always been extremely curious about one thing. Von Flanagan is a very unusual name. Would you mind telling me exactly how you acquired it?”
“I’ll tell you,” Malone said. “This guy never wanted to be a policeman. He got to be a policeman by accident. He got promoted to captain of his division by more accidents.”
Daniel von Flanagan growled, but said nothing.
“It was bad enough to be a cop,” Malone went on relentlessly, “but he couldn’t stand having a name, Dan Flanagan, that sounded like a cop’s name. So he went to court and had it legally changed to von Flanagan.”
Mr. Rodney Fairfaxx nodded, smiled and said, “Very wise of him. My grandfather went to court and had the extra ‘x’ added to our name, to avoid being confused with a Josiah Fairfax who ran a second-rate saloon back in Connecticut. I’m sure none of the family have ever regretted it.” He sat down on the edge of his bunk.
“Well—” Malone said. He looked at the cell. It didn’t compare very favorably with the paneled library. “Are you sure you have everything you want?”
“I’m quite comfortable,”
