Chapter 9 Chapter 8 Interventional Ballistics

Taxis roared through the city.Large bags were stacked comfortably in the compartment.Ellery nudged it every once in a while, as if afraid that it would disappear.The darkness in the carriage covered him, and he was lost in thought. Only the orange light on the cigarette butt in his hand could penetrate the space shielded by the night.However, the major's active thoughts were all written on his face, as if the darkness couldn't cover it up. Not long after the car swayed into Eighth Avenue at the top of the city, he said briskly, "I suddenly feel that I'm really lucky tonight."

Ellery snorted politely. The major's light-hearted laugh softened the heavy tired atmosphere a lot: "I usually carry my automatic pistol - I haven't given up this habit after the war." "But you didn't bring it tonight." "I didn't bring it tonight. What a coincidence." Kobe was silent for a moment. "God knows why I left it at home. A hunch?" "You remember how Emerson spoke resignedly of intuition in his Persian Poems?" "Huh? No, I'm afraid I can't remember." Ellery sighed: "It doesn't really matter."

The two never spoke again until the car stopped on the dark avenue in front of the police headquarters in the middle of the street. Ellery's forethought was spot on.He had called this place in advance before leaving, so when they got out of the car, a tall, thin-cheeked, bespectacled, professional gentleman was already waiting in the lobby by the front door.He looked ridiculous in a brown coat and a hat that was two circles bigger than his head.His wrinkled face and shiny thin-skinned jaw made him look like an ascetic. As soon as the funny old gentleman saw Ellery, he stretched out his serpentine body from the bench, stood up, smiled kindly at Ellery, and said, "Here we come," he said loudly. Echoing in the empty hall, "It's midnight, what else is there to do? I thought the Quinn family always went to bed early."

"Have you heard?" "What did you hear?" "There was a murder at the stadium tonight. That's why I'm bothering you. I'm sorry to wake you up at one o'clock in the morning, sir, but..." "It's just playing poker." The tall man said flatly. "Then I'm less guilty, Mr. Lieutenant. Meet this fellow ballistics--Major Kirby. Major, this is Lieutenant Kenneth Knowles, ballistics specialist in the Department." The two experts looked at each other and shook hands. "Let's go over to your office," Ellery said hotly. "Jesus, this bag must weigh a ton! It's a lot of work."

The three of them arrived in Room 114.I saw a few words printed on the door: ballistic research room. Lieutenant Knowles led them through an office lined with filing cabinets and into a laboratory. "Now, gentlemen," said Ellery, putting down his gun pocket and opening it, "the matter is quite simple, Lieutenant, and I am asking Major Kirby to take part in this matter because he has his own opinion on ballistics. Besides, two specialists are better than one." Seeing the various guns piled up in the bag, the lieutenant's eyes flashed with professional excitement through the glasses: "Of course, I am very happy to have the honor to meet the major. But this is..."

"Now I'll explain," said Ellery. "I don't know anything about weapons. I don't even know the difference between a Luger and a howitzer. I need a little scientific advice. Look at this bullet." He showed them the bloody bullet that Dr. Boddy had dug out of the dead man's chest. "The officer said it was fired from a . at this point." The little major and the tall lieutenant stared at the small thing. "It's a .25 automatic pistol cartridge. What do you say, major?" "No doubt about it. Looks like a Remington bullet," whispered Major Kirby. "Hmph! That's what killed Horn, huh?"

"I suppose so. At least, it was taken out of his heart by the assistant medical examiner," said Ellery, frowning. "So what can the two experts say about it?" Both of them laughed. "Now!" said Lieutenant Knowles, laughing, "we're not wizards. We can't tell anything without looking at it under a microscope. Fortunately, Mr. Quinn—Major, what did you say? Never saw a shot." The bullet is in such a state that is conducive to the microscope inspection?" "It hasn't changed much, I admit it." The major twirled it with his fingertips, murmuring.

"You know," began the police department expert in a textbook voice, "some say experts can 'fingerprint' a fired bullet, they just don't know what to do. But the way I see it, In most cases due to the poor condition of the bullets it is unlikely to be possible to obtain a satisfactory pattern of characteristic traces. I have seen quite a few bullets which have been changed beyond recognition..." "Yeah, yeah," Ellery said hastily, "but get me a map of this bullet—I mean, the original image. What did it look like before firing?" "I don't see how that would do you any good," said the lieutenant puzzled.

"Perhaps Mr. Quinn isn't sure whether that works or not," said Major Bryant, smiling. "Look, a well-equipped . Grams of gunpowder, stamped metal casing, lead-cast interior, and, of course, a copper-nickel alloy on the outside. Velocity, within the first twenty-five feet of—do the math—750 feet per second, impact energy It's sixty-two feet per pound..." "That's enough," said Ellery resignedly. "I can tell I didn't ask the right question. Let me ask it another way. Don't blame me for being a layman. Can this bullet—. Firing it from other pistols of the same .25 caliber?"

"No." The two experts said in unison. "And—what about the .22 revolver?" Ellery tried cautiously. "Of course, it's smaller. Why can't the .25..." Lieutenant Knowles got up and went out.When he came back he brought three bullets. "We'd better get this straight," he said, "there are very small .22 pistols, of course, that use . Those kind of bullets." He pointed to one of the extremely small bullets--it seemed to be more than half an inch long, very slender, "you can't shoot this kind of bullet in a . 25. Now look at the other one, He held up another bullet, which looked twice as long as the previous one, but was just as slender. "That's what's called the '. .22, yes, but it was designed for larger weapons. The reason is that there are a lot of people who like the feel of a big pistol like a .38 but want to shoot a .22. But now look at this," he said. Take out the third bullet.It is thicker than the short .22 and shorter than the long .22. "This bullet is brother to the bullet taken from the corpse. It is for a .25 automatic pistol. As far as I know, it It's the only round you can fire with a .25. Am I right, Major Kirby?"

"I think so." "All this means," whimpered Ellery, "is that I'm no good lugging a bag of stuff like this." He kicked the gun pocket angrily. "In other words, the bullets on Horne's body Surely it was fired from a .25--is it? Impossible to fire it from any other type or model of pistol?" "Now you finally understand," the lieutenant grinned, reached into his pocket and groped for a moment, and took out a small shiny blue pistol.It was flat enough to remind him of Tommy Black's buttocks.So small and dainty, perched comfortably in Knowles' broad palm, "only four and a half inches long," he murmured, "the barrel is two inches long, weighs only thirteen ounces in total, and the magazine holds Six little bullets--sliding safety catch, with safety catch--how, that's a nice little goth gun! I always carry one. Wanna see? That's the gun your murderer used , Mr. Quinn!" Ellery reached for it eagerly. "Shh..." the lieutenant grinned again. "Wait, I've got to get my little pet's teeth out first. A guy like you could kill me." He pulled out the magazine and poured out six small Bullet, and poured the seventh bullet from the firing chamber.Then he reinserted the magazine and handed the pistol to Ellery. "Ah," exclaimed Ellery, examining the gun carefully.It was heavier than he expected, but it was nothing compared to the police pistols he'd seen and touched a couple of times.The small gun felt comfortable in the hand, "I don't understand," he seemed to be talking to himself, "why did our murderer have a soft spot for such a thing, but didn't choose a bigger and more lethal one? Where's your weapon?" The major laughed unexpectedly: "More lethal? I said, Mr. Quinn, you don't know how capable this little guy in your hand is. At a considerable long distance, you can shoot through two Inch-thick boards!" "Not to mention the fragile human body," murmured Ellery, "that's it. Not only effective, but convenient! So small..." He returned the gun to the expert, abruptly removed the pince-nez, stared at the Staring at it in a daze. "Oh!" He put his glasses back on again. "Before I start checking these guns, I have one more question: How long will it take to fire all six bullets at the fastest speed?" "I did it once in two and a half seconds, with an old rusty stopwatch," Lieutenant Knowles buzzed. "Two-and-a-half seconds!" Ellery whistled, and then lost himself in thought again. "So our friend is undoubtedly a perfect marksman again. One shot kills, eh? . . . Yes, gentlemen. Now let's see what Santa has in his pockets." He crouched on the floor and took the revolvers out of his pockets one by one.The lieutenant and major watched him silently.When they were young, the pockets were empty, and Ellery looked up at them, and they looked down at him, and there was no words for a moment. Then they looked together at what was on the floor.Ellery had kept automatics separate from revolvers.In the revolver pile were forty-four long-barreled pistols; the automatic side was a single gun, representing its "pile." Ellery glanced at the gun on the A card with the name on it: Teddy Rice. Silently, he went to check the pile of bullets again, and found that there were no .25 at all. "Well, well," he said softly, rising to his feet, "there's no wheat in the mill. Apparently our friend, the newsman, is the only one with a weapon capable of killing Horn, and at the same time The guy who showed up. I don't think there's any point in testing Lynce's gun now." Ellery hummed a sad tune, waiting for Lieutenant Knowles and Major Kirby to test the uniquely suspected weapon.The lieutenant quickly set a special-looking target in a safe corner of the far side of the house, and then he and Major Kirby retreated to another corner and began to examine the seven bullets in Teddy Lanes' pistol with excitement and concentration. "They're real guys," said the lieutenant. "I've shot too much, Major. Want to have fun?" "It doesn't matter." Kobe had already picked up the gun while speaking, stood about twenty feet away from the target, and raised his hand carelessly to shoot.A series of crackling sounds accompanied by echoes were amplified into deafening roars in the laboratory, and Ellery jumped up in shock.When he regained his composure, the little major smiled at him, the pungent gunpowder smoke was slowly dissipating, and looking at the target again, it was already like a piece of Swiss cheese. "Good marksmanship, Major," said Lieutenant Knowles admiringly, "just a circle around the bull's-eye, huh? We've got several specimens in this way, let's do it now." He came back holding half a dozen bullets from the target, each of them covered with oily charcoal black.He took a closer look at them, and then put them on the test bench: "These little babies can be tested." He took off his coat, gestured for Ellery to sit in a nearby chair, and sat down on a simple task stool.There is a familiar-looking instrument on the workbench, but there are some weird gadgets on it.Appears to be a special purpose microscope. "This is a contrast lens set," he explained. "It provides a pair of fields of view at the same time to compare the samples. You can see it. Major, are you familiar with this thing?" The major nodded and said, "Yes, I used it a few times in the army, and I have one at home, just for fun." Ellery watched them both anxiously.Lieutenant Knowles soaked the bloody bullet in a solution, then took it out and dried it.The whole body of the bullet was clean, revealing the original color of lead.The lieutenant put the bullet under the microscope and observed it for a while, then raised his head and motioned for Major Kirby to look at the mirror. "What a beautiful texture!" the major sighed, turning back. "Lieutenant, there will be absolutely no difficulty in comparing it with the traces of other samples!" "It shouldn't be difficult. Now let's see what lines the bullets you fired just now have left," Knowles said briskly, throwing himself back on the microscope to do his work.The deadly bullet remained under one set of lenses, and the bullets fired just now were placed under another set of lenses for comparison.Various adjustment screws were twisted back and forth, the focusing lens barrel was retracted and extended, and the sample bombs were carefully replaced.The two of them also took turns to lie on the eyepiece like a shuttle, and every point the lieutenant found was checked and confirmed by the major.Finally, the two nodded solemnly to each other, and Knowles turned to Ellery as if to make a conclusion. "It is said that death and taxes are the only certainties! See, we are certain of one thing, Mr. Quin, and that is that the bullet that killed him did not go out of Lyons' pistol. Yes. It doesn't even require further molecular studies. The textures on the bullets are nothing alike." It took Ellery a moment to digest this conclusion, and he stood up and walked back and forth. "Uh. It's not bad to find a certain example in the chaos of everything. Another question, can you be absolutely sure?" "Absolutely no problem, Mr. Quinn," Major Bryant said enthusiastically. "As long as we finally arrive at a definite answer, you can completely rely on its correctness. This method of detecting the texture of fired bullets is still a sophisticated method." Scientific research methods. You see, what modern weapons do not use these days-I think you have heard of this. But, as long as the barrels of guns and barrels, there will be-so you can imagine, there are It is carved with spiral grooves. There are six parallel left helix lines in the barrel of the . Groove, the groove carved in is called the groove, and the part that remains relatively raised is called the ridge. There are six pairs of such grooves and ridges, as I just said. The bullets are fired from different barrels in rotation. Come out, there will be slight differences in the rubbing marks on the ridges, which can be discerned under a microscope..." "I see. Put two bullets under a contrast microscope and you'll be able to tell if they have the same scratches?" "Exactly," said the lieutenant, "you superimpose images of two samples and you can see the differences in their parts, so it's easy to tell if their scratches coincide—are they identical. " "So the samples are all different from the bullet marks?" "They're all different." Ellery didn't know what to say for a while, but when he was helpless, someone suddenly broke in unexpectedly.The visitor was a burly man with a small bag in his hand. "Ah, Rhett!" cried Ellery eagerly. "Found the gun again?" The constable put his pocket on the bench: "I'm coming from the constable, Mr. Quinn. He sent me to hand it over here in person - and have to run. He told you that these guns were scavenged from the audience. Come out." After speaking, the police officer disappeared quickly. Ellery opened his pockets with trembling hands. "Well done, my grandfather!" he cried, taking out the weapons one by one. "Look at the guns—at least a dozen!" Fourteen automatic pistols, to be exact.Each gun had a small card with the name and address of the gunman on it.Four of them were .25-caliber four-and-a-half-inch pistols of the sort they were concerned with.There were three other revolvers and other types of pistols, but they had no interest in those. Major Bryant and Lieutenant Knowles returned to the shooting area to make "samples". There was another burst of gunfire, and it was like a thunderstorm rolling through the laboratory.They used the four .25 automatic pistols Rhett brought from the sports field to shoot separately, and obtained four samples, and then put them under the microscope for comparison. The laboratory was silent from time to time, only the sound of their snorting. There is no need to ask for the conclusion after the test. Ellery can tell from the expressions on the faces of the two experts that none of the patterns of the four sample bombs can match the one that killed Horn.There was one more thing in the same pocket it had been delivered—a note, written: "Ellery: These are the private guns of some spectators, and they were all sent to you. Although what we are looking for is only . Do many birds come in with guns tucked in? If I find more, I will send them as soon as possible!" The signature was Officer Quinn's signature. "Lieutenant, can you stay here?" Ellery asked very calmly, staring at the guns. "You mean there will be more? Well, I think I can get the poker boys up to keep me company, so good night, Major, we've had a great time working together. Call me sometime, I've got quite a few private collections The weapon, someday I will show you off." "Oh?" Major Bryant exclaimed, "I also have a little savings, you know! What is the oldest guy in your place?" "An 1840..." Ellery grabbed the major by the elbow. "Come with me, major," coaxing him, "you've got plenty of time to hang out with the good lieutenant. We're in a hurry to get back to the playground. "