The daily monitor leader. [volume] (Mount Clemens, Mich.) 1942-19??, 1942-07-24
Murder
CONTINUED from Page 10Y


Here's the only curious item
we have found, Mr.. Dawson
in Cabin Ia on A Deck the pas
senger seemed to have had an
unusual amount of trouble with
his fountain pen. Either that or
he spilled a full bottle Of very
thick ink. His name is Paul
Dexel with address :"
The investigator hit the table
with his fist: Never mind, /
know all that you've solved
q riddle for me-" Tossing a bill
on the table he hurried down to
his cabin and reopened the par
eel containing Lemoy Statler's
hand. Turning it palm up he stu
diously inspected the fingertips
under the glare of small
searchlight.
That's it," he muttered in
satisfied manner. Every finger
tin has minute traces of ink. The
hand was taken off to secure
Statler's fingerprints for some
Identification purpose. The man
sawho entered the cemetery vault
found that the hands were too
rigidly clenched to get good
prints. So rather than risk de-
lection he simply chopped off
one hand and took it with him
to straighten out the fingers at
his leisure, but ~
Dawson frowned.
but why cart along the
ungodly thing just to throw it in
my cabin" For a few seconds
he remained deep in thought.
That's easy-the lad also was
watching me and when l left St.
Johns in hurry he didn't have
time to do his work. SO he
brought the hand along. There
was no place to work on the
train, so he waited until he got
aboard the Caribou. He could
have chucked the hand into the
water but some ghoulish strain
prompted him to try soaring
me
A steward entered with note
from one of the immigration
men: "Dawson-You had better
get going on whatever you
asked to be delayed is, raising
hell and can't lie much longer.
His name is Paul Dexel."
Dawson found his man in the
lounge loudly berating the i'm
migration official. Dexel was
about S feet IL inches, athletic
in build and blond. He appeared
to be in his mid-thirties.
pardon me, Mr.. Dexel, }"
Dawson interrupted, I'm Do
minion Government Intelligence
officer and the delay is my faults
A slight irregularity has been
noted in your passport and l
must bring you up to our local
bureau for questioning"
Dexel, obviously taken aback,
continued to protest: This is
sheer nonsense and intend in
forming the authorities :"
"Just come along with me
now" Dawson smiled easily. 1T
will probably take only few
minutes"
Dexel was already wearing
his hat and coat The two walked
down the gangplank, through
the shed and out to the street.
There's a shortcut through a
back street. Mr.. Dexel, il you
don't mind taxi service is
doubtful here at present it
will save time and / know you
are busy man
Dawson turned into a narrow
path through the snow. He could
hear Dexel's steps behind him
as they turned around the back
of building which was OBJ
scured from the street by a bill
board.
Suddenly, Dawson's straining
ears noted change in the
rhythm of the steps behind.
Wheeling away like a flash, he
pivoted on his right foot and
grabbed Dexel's right wrist in
his own right hand-a knife
glistened in the sun. Swinging
around, weight balanced on
right, Dawson took advantage of
the attackers forward lurch
and threw him by bringing
down his own left arm on Dex-
els right shoulder. Switching
quickly he slashed with his right
fist, squarely on the others
downturned jaw.
Dexel rolled over on one side
into the snow as Dawson's
handouts clicked.
That's elementary jiu-jitsu,
friend" painted Dawson. "Now.
IL you don't mind. Mr.. Ghoul
Dexel, I'll toss you in clink and
have you investigated by an
other agent while I buzz off to
Chicago. Somehow. I've got
bunch you don't want me to 60
sh>re'T