The Sheridan Road Mystery | Page 3

door, he led
the others in a search of the apartment. Seeking for the electric light
buttons as they moved about the apartment, the men soon flooded the
rooms with light. Each man with revolver ready, and intent on
searching every corner, none of them gave much attention to the fact
that Marsh was dogging every move, apparently as keenly on the
lookout as any one of the party.
Their inspection revealed nothing more than that the apartment was
apparently in the same condition as its tenant had left it. The door to the
outside stairway at the back was locked and the key was missing. In
addition to the regular lock a stout bolt was in place. The catches on all
the windows were properly locked, and all the shades remained drawn
down close to the sills. It was an empty, locked apartment, with no
outstanding evidence of having been used for a long time.
The police, now joined by the man lately on watch at the door, stood
nonplussed in the kitchen. The plain-clothes man uttered an oath. Then
he addressed his companions.
"I've seen some mighty fishy situations, but this trims anything I ever
ran up against. Ain't been just hearing things, have you, Murphy? A
swig of this home-made hootch does upset a man dreadful, sometimes."
Murphy glared.
"I ain't never touched the stuff," he bellowed. Then added, aggressively,
"You know damned well I wasn't the only one to hear that shot. The

tenant downstairs heard it, too. It was him that brought me in."
"Well, you only got his word for it that this is where the shot, was fired.
Maybe HE'S trying to cover something up."
Murphy started, then glanced around.
"Hell!" he exclaimed. "Where's that guy gone to, anyway?"
Marsh, who had recently been close at their heels, was not now in the
group. Murphy moved on tiptoe to the kitchen door and listened. On
the other side of the dining room was the doorway to the entrance hall,
and through the now drawn curtains this space was visible. Murphy
could see that both these rooms were deserted, but an occasional
swishing sound came to his ears. Turning to the waiting group, he
silently and significantly jerked his head toward the front of the
apartment. Following his example, they moved cautiously across the
dining room and the hall and stopped at the door of the living room.
Marsh, with his back toward them, was just in the act of pulling a
heavy, upholstered chair back into position. His moving of similar
articles of furniture had made the sounds heard by Murphy.
Stepping suddenly into the room, Murphy inquired, with a note of
sarcasm in his voice, "Kind of busy, ain't you?"
Marsh turned abruptly. If they expected to see any signs of confusion
on his face they were disappointed, for he simply smiled cheerfully.
"Just following out a line of thought," he answered.
"What's the big idea!" asked the plain-clothes man, suspiciously, as he
also stepped into the room and carefully looked over the man before
him.
"Well, detectives in novels always search minutely for things which
may not be apparent to the eye. When confronted with so deep a
mystery as this one, I thought the application of a little of the story

book stuff might do no harm."
"Huh!" snorted the plain-clothes man, as Marsh finished giving this
information. "You're more than commonly interested in this affair, ain't
you?"
"Naturally," agreed Marsh. "Remember, I live just below, and wouldn't
like to be murdered in my bed some night. To hear a murder over your
head is a bit disconcerting."
"How the devil do we know there's been a murder?" shot back the
plain-clothes man. "We've only got your word for it."
"But this officer also heard the shot," and Marsh turned toward Murphy.
"He was looking for the trouble when I met him."
"Yes," Murphy admitted. "I heard the shot, but I only got your word for
it that it was here. If there was a murder, what became of the body?"
"That is for you gentlemen to find out," Marsh snapped back, now
evidently alive to the fact that these men were regarding him with
something approaching suspicion. "I have already done more than my
share of the work. I have discovered visible proof THAT THERE WAS
A MURDER!"
This information startled the group of policemen. Hasty glances swept
the room for a moment. Then the plain-clothes man remarked, with a
meaning smile, "Well, I'M from Missouri."
Marsh walked over to where the policemen stood.
"Take a look around," he began. "There are certain accepted ways of
placing the furniture in a room. When there is a radical departure from
such placing, an inquiring mind is led to wonder. Notice the chair