The Desert Moon Mystery by Kay Cleaver Strahan

Sam spoke directly to Canneziano. "Did you ever know a man named Bauermont-Lewis Bauermont?"

"Strangler Bauermont? Very well indeed. Has he anything to do with it?"

"What's that you called him? " Sam asked, sharply.

"Strangler Bauermont, you mean?"

I remembered that Danny had told me his nickname was "Mexico."

Sam said, "That's what I mean. How did he come by a name like that?"

"He is by way of being a wrestler, I believe; and won the name for some particularly clever hold that brought his man down every time. I have never gone in for that sort of thing-can't give you scientific details. He was a jiu-jitsu expert, also. Oh, no, no," as he noticed our quickening interests. "He is a continent and an ocean away, at present. Moreover, murder is quite outside his line-quite. And he was, I believe, rather smitten than otherwise with the Gaby."

"You are sure he is in Europe now? " Sam questioned.

"I had a letter from him, only a few days ago, written and sent from Deauville. A cable to Scotland Yard would locate him precisely for you, I have no doubt. Assuming, of course, that you don't mind spending a few dollars."

"I suppose," Sam mused, "that he could easy teach his strangling trick to another man."

"Undoubtedly. But isn't the entire connection rather foolish, when one stops to think that Strangler has been, for years, badly smitten with the lady?"

"I guess he got over that," Sam said. "Seems, now, as if he was anxious to be shed of her."

"Oh-ho! And he famous for his constancy to the Gaby. Nine, ten, I don't know how many years. However, though I'll grant his name belies it, he was a smooth, diplomatic cuss. I think you can be practically certain that he would draw the line at murder-under any circumstances."

"That letter you had from him," Sam said. "I suppose you destroyed it?"

"I don't tie my letters into packets bound with blue ribbons."

"Was it written in code?"

"No. You see, the hotel where I was putting up just then was, one might say, over regulated. Letters written in code were not favorably regarded there."

"Could you read a letter written in his code?"

"I fancy so. If you have a Spanish dictionary."

"There was nothing Spanish about this one. It was just a jumble of letters."