Crimson Ice

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Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

CRIMSON ICE

A Hockey Mystery

By

Cortland Fitzsimmons

Crimson Ice was originally published in 1935 by Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York.

• • •

The characters and incidents in this book are entirely imaginary.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

I. THE BLUE DEVILS 5

II. CRIMSON ICE 14

III. THE FATAL HUDDLE 25

IV. THE WEB OF EVIDENCE 34

V. UNDER SUSPICION 58

VI. JULIETTE 72

VII. PLANS 86

VIII. THE POP BOY HAS AN IDEA 97

IX. MORE IDEAS 104

X. DEATH RIDES A PULLMAN 109

XI. A MESSAGE FROM GASTON 119

XII. A WARNING 131

XIII. NUGGETS 136

XIV. LECOQ 144

XV. A PERFUME BOTTLE 150

XVI. THE LAST CHAPTER 159

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 171

I. THE BLUE DEVILS

It was a big night at the Boston Hockey Arena. Back Bay blue bloods in evening dress were being jostled in the lobby by hordes of Charlestown Navy-yard Irish. Outside the Arena, in the streets, the cops were having a frantic time trying to sort out the traffic jams and move the long line of taxis and cars waiting to pull up at the entrance. An icy, blustering wind cut into the less fortunate who came on foot or in streetcars and buses. They moved with heads down and collars up to shield themselves from the tearing, ice-laden gale, and darted into the comfort of the Arena entrance like cliff-swallows into their holes.

The Boston Cougars had developed a great following under the wise direction of Old Lannie Snell, the Hub manager for the past three years. During Snell’s managership the Cougars had won two Stanley Cup playoffs and finished third once.

Society and townsfolk had taken the cause of the Cougars to their hearts. Tonight the Quebec Blue Devils were paying their first visit of the season to Boston and a capacity crowd of twelve thousand was on hand to greet them.

The ticket-booths had been closed since five o’clock, but the speculators were doing a good business and getting fancy prices for box seats. Even an ordinary end arena pew was fetching five bucks, with plenty of eager takers. Down along the boards in the choice seats were row upon row of society fans, the girls particularly conspicuous in their rich furs, low-cut gowns and sparkling jewels. The girls were more eagerly anticipating the game than their seemingly bored companions. There seems to be something particularly exciting to women about scientific mayhem on skates. Psychologists may know the answer.

The gallery crowd emitted a great bellowing roar. Out on the ice for their practice whirl came the Blue Devils, trim and handsome in their light-blue uniforms. They took the north end of the ice and grouped themselves at the blue line, firing shots at Happy Boucher, their goalkeeper.

In the stands at the south end there was a forty-piece colored orchestra under the leadership of Sweet Man Walters. When Sweet Man spied the Blue Devils he immediately led his band into the strains of I’ll Be Glad When You’re Dead, You Rascal You. The fans loved it.

There was a new shout of hysterical joy when the Cougars took the ice. In an instant the band started to jazz-up the melody of ‘There’ll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight."

The Cougars came on with a flourish. They skated to and fro with easy motions. Ed Collins, the goalkeeper, wore his traditional peak cap and chewed gum furiously while he blocked the shots of his mates. Jim Knox, the demon left-winger for the Cougars, made the fans laugh by shooting into the cage with a deft flip while skating backwards.

Dick Bowers stood behind the last tier of seats for several minutes. He wanted time to control his anger before he joined his father, who had been patiently waiting for him. Dick had just left Gaston Lemaire, known as the Blue Flame, star player on the Blue Devils’ team. The memory of that interview rankled and tasted of gall. Because of Gaston Lemaire he hated them all for a moment.

After the Cougars began their practice he walked down and slid into his seat.

I take it you found him, his father said. Have a cigar?

I found him, Dick answered.

How about the cigar?

Funny thing about Father, Dick thought, he always knows when not to ask personal questions. Aloud he said, Er—no, thanks. Dick looked forward, pretending interest.

‘They are a smart-looking crew, those Blue Devils," Mr. Bowers said.

Yes, aren’t they? The Cougars are pretty keen, though. Did you notice that flip of Knox’s as I was coming down?

I did.

They watched in silence for several minutes and then Bowers said, Would you rather go home, Dick?

No. I’d like to see the game. He leaned forward, paying no attention to friends and acquaintances who were trying to attract his attention.

Beulah is over there, his father said.

Dick looked up and nodded to several people and then gave all his attention to the ice.

Ace Kellie, the star player, went over to the boards and chatted gaily with two pretty girls who were sitting by themselves. Sweet Man’s orchestra was now playing That Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze with plenty of loud and very noisy assistance from the occupants of the dollar seats.

Referees Armand and Steel came onto the ice and were greeted with the traditional salvo of boos. There was a pause and suddenly the band struck up The Maple Leaf Forever. All the men on the ice stood stiffly at attention. The music later switched to The Star-Spangled Banner. Walters had a little trouble with his men on our own national anthem. They evinced a strong desire to pep up the melody, but he succeeded in muting them down and the last chord crashed out with a loud cheer. The crowd sat back with an I’m-glad-that’s-over sigh to await the face-off.

There was a moment of breathless attention all over the arena. Each manager was starting his first line-up and as the reserves took their places on the bench the referee called the two teams together for the face-off. His line-up was as follows:

The Blue Devils swept down the ice right from the start. Jean Primeau, taking the puck from Cartier well over toward the boards, skated past the defense man and let go with a long shot The ice was soft in front of the Cougar goal and the rubber took a few bad bounces toward the net. Bradford, the Boston defense man, skated over to clear, but the disk caromed off his stick into the cage before Collins could get set to stop the shot The red light blinked and pandemonium broke loose. The boys in blue were getting the early breaks.

Quebec started in again from the face-off. This time Ed Cartier started over the blue line and snatched the rubber off Jim Smith’s stick. A twist and he was off down the center alley with only Ed Collins to beat He feinted and tried to draw Collins out of position, hut the goalie went down on all fours and smothered the shot to make a honey of a save. Coulter sailed in and lifted the puck over Collins’ prostrate pads.

Cowbells, rattles and horns sounded like Hades let loose. It seemed impossible that the Blue Devils could keep up such a pace for three periods. Snell sent Hawkins in to replace Bradford at defense.

For the next ten minutes the battle raged from one end of the arena to the other. Boston still clung to a close defense. Time after time, Hawkins broke up the Blue Devils’ sweeping rushes with long clearing shots down to the other end of the ice. This maneuver always brought forth a storm of jeers from the Quebec fans in the house, but it certainly saved the Cougars from getting any more goals chalked up against them.

Lemaire, the Blue Flash, had made several nice swift sorties down the ice, but failed to score. Hawkins was watching him closely, and Hooley Smith, the other defense man for the Cougars, was right on his tail every time he handled the puck. With about five minutes left to play in the first period, Ace Kellie, the Boston star, swiftly pounced on a loose puck and was off down the ice like an eel. Stick-handling beautifully, he whipped the puck to Biff Craven, who passed it back to him at the goal-mouth. Ace shot, but Boucher cleared. The puck rebounded o£f Boucher’s pads and Lemaire, like a flash, stole it right away from three Cougar players and started down the side lane with Ace Kellie in hot pursuit Bradford, who had come back on the ice, gave chase as well, and cut in on Lemaire at an angle. Bradford checked into Lemaire with all his weight, and as he did so Kellie grabbed the puck and dashed back over the blue line and fired it with the speed of a bullet to ring up the first goal for the Cougars.

The crowd roared as the red light blinked and it was first blood for the Cougars. The play had been so fast that even the referees failed to keep up with it. In vain Lemaire protested about the goal, claiming that Bradford checked him too roughly. It stood and the boys faced off again. There was a grin of contempt on Kellie’s face as he looked across at Lemaire.

On the next play Primeau took the puck and passed out to Coulter, who pushed a pass over to Lemaire, who took it down the center alley. Bradford came in with a heavy check and stole the puck away from Lemaire. The Hub giant floundered around from the force of his own tackle and then, with two men right on him, he passed to Kellie, who was pounding his stick on the ice to attract his attention. Kellie was a speed merchant and he lost no time getting back down the ice.

Lemaire and Coulter were in pursuit. Kellie slowed up as he neared Lecoq, the Quebec defense man, and Lemaire came into him with a savage rush that sent him sprawling. The referee’s whistle shrilled and Lemaire, without waiting to see what he wanted, headed for the penalty box. Two minutes’ penalty to Lemaire for unnecessary roughing, boomed the loud-speaker. The gallery jeered and hurled paper down on Lemaire as he clambered into his seat in the box.

A half-minute before the end of the period Lemaire came back on the ice. The Cougars were pressing hard, trying to even the score and Lemaire skated right into a forward rush. Craven had the puck and passed to Knox. Like a flash Lemaire pounced on the puck and intercepted the pass. He was as quick as the darting of a humming-bird. As he turned, Kellie loomed up beside him. Kellie slashed at him with his stick, but Lemaire was too quick. He jumped like a jack-rabbit and, stick-handling his way past Bradford, he had a clear goal before him. The crowd, quick to sense the rivalry on the ice, booed lustily. Lemaire shot the puck, but Collins smothered a high shot and pushed the rubber behind the nets. Lemaire on the follow-up went back of the Cougar net and Kellie followed. Kellie jammed Lemaire into the back board and the two men were pinned there with the puck as the bell ended the period.

In between periods there was an exhibition of adagio skating and the fans upstairs showed their disapproval for the higher arts with loud and lusty razzberries.

The teams came out for the second period and the fans started all over again. The second-string line took the ice this time and play was nearly all confined to the Blue Devils’ half of the ice. Suddenly Renoir broke away and passed back to Jackson, who shot the puck past Collins, only to be called back by an offside whistle. The Cougars then took a hand in the battle and Manager Snell poured his shock troops back into action. Duval, the Blue Devils’ manager, followed suit and Primeau, Coulter and Lemaire came streaming over the boards onto the ice.

Snell had four men down on the ice. The Cougars were playing wide open hockey now and the fans roared approval. Boucher made save after save, but finally Kellie shot a sizzler into the corner of the cage from an assist by Knox and the score was tied.

The roar that went up from the crowd was terrific—two goals apiece and anybody’s battle.

The Blue Devils were fighting mad now. Lemaire grabbed the puck at the face-off and whipped it over to Primeau. On a pretty combination play Lemaire took it just inside the blue line and started off toward the Cougar goal. Kellie came in on him fast and stole the puck away. He had hardly skated ten feet when Lemaire was right back at him. There was a crash of sticks and in the m£lee a few more players tried to get the puck. Finally Bradford skated off with the puck and Kellie was lying on the ice. The referee blew his whistle and waved Lemaire to the box. A five-minute penalty this time for roughing.

Lemaire stood there grinning down at Kellie as the referee waved at him. Next time be a little quicker with that fancy tripping act of yours, you rat, he said as he jauntily skated to the box and sat down. Kellie picked himself up with an injured air and skated back to the bench. Snell sent Joe Farley in to take his place.

I’ve never known Gaston to act this way before, Dick said with a shake of his head. He doesn’t seem to be the same person.

This is a professional sport, son, his father reminded him.

But a man doesn’t have to forget his sportsmanship just because he is playing for money, Dick protested.

I think the Kellie chap deserves all he gets. Lemaire is a little quicker and just a bit smarter.

It’s the kind of smartness I dislike. Dick turned back to the game, which was a seesaw up and down ‘ the ice, with the Blue Devils’ second-and even third-string line-up doing most of the hard work. Duval kept his first-string defense men on and tried out his young forwards. They acquitted themselves well, but were unable to score. Lemaire’s five minutes were up and he skated across the ice to the bench. Duval was talking to him quietly and seemed to be trying to calm him down. The Boston first string was back on the ice now and with Lemaire out they were playing havoc with the Blue Devils’ forward line.

Knox took the puck down to the Quebec line and passed to Craven, who beat Boucher on a twisting shot which just curled inside the post. The Cougars were ahead and it looked bad for the Blue Devils. It seemed that nothing would be able to stop the Cougars now. Lemaire was pleading with Duval, and a moment afterward he clambered over the boards onto the ice. The Boston fans greeted him with a terrific series of boos and catcalls. Kellie looked over and watched him skate into line, then Kellie said something to Knox out of the corner of his mouth.

I can’t believe it is Gaston they are booing, Dick said to his father.

Quebec took the puck on the face-off and Primeau passed back to Lemaire, who skated down to the center of the ice. Kellie came in fast, but Lemaire eluded him and went on up to the Cougar blue line. He passed to Coulter, who, finding himself blocked, passed back to Lemaire. Kellie was behind Lemaire as he took the puck and promptly sent him flying with an obvious trip which the whole arena could see.

That was dirty! Dick shouted.

Lemaire was up on his feet and swung on Kellie, who went down on his back and lay there in a daze. The players crowded round and the referees skated over and grabbed Lemaire.

There was an expectant silence. The crowd was too anxious to know what was going to happen to do much booing. Kellie crawled to his feet and fought to get at Lemaire. Bradford and Smith held him off while the referee talked to both of them. Finally they both skated to the penalty box with a major penalty for each. Two uniformed policemen came down and sat between them in the box to keep the peace, and the crowd started to yell and throw paper. The Boston fans blamed Lemaire, of course, while the Quebec rooters and the few impartial ones in the house realized that both men were equally to blame and in this particular case Kellie was the real culprit.

The tension of the game over for the moment, Dick leaned back, sighed and then gazed vacantly out over the ice. He was startled out of his thoughts by his father’s voice asking, Are you sure you want to stay, son?

Er—yes. I want to stay. I was just thinking.

About the girl?

Yes. The whole thing.

Lemaire would give you no explanation? Mr. Bowers asked.

None, Dick replied. We were such good friends, Dad, at college. I can’t understand it. I can’t understand Juliette either. I don’t see why they won’t tell me what it is I have done.

You did love her, didn’t you? Mr. Bowers’ remark was more the statement of a fact than a question.

Yes, and she knew it. I thought she loved me, too. She certainly acted as if she meant it.

That was about two and a half years ago. You were both young. I had no idea you took it so seriously, Mr. Bowers said.

Why do older people always assume that youth can’t love deeply and sincerely? Dick complained with the eternal voice of protesting youth.

It isn’t that older people don’t believe in love’s young dream, Dick. You see, as you grow older you learn a number of things from just living and one of them is the fact that time heals all wounds.

I don’t believe it, Dick protested.

After all, son, two and a half years isn’t much time out of a man’s life.

"Don’t be philosophical I’ll never love any woman as I loved Juliette Lemaire. I want to know why she and her brother have treated me this way. Why did she tell me it was just a flirtation? Why does Gaston refuse to talk to me about it? We were friends. If I have done something unwittingly, I think I deserve to know about it. Gaston knew then and knows now how much I loved her. I’ve tried to