“Well, again, Lieutenant,” said Koesler, “with all due respect, there may be one or another of the suspects with just that disorder.”
Harris looked at him with disbelief. It was so strong the detective did not have to verbalize his doubts.
“It happened when I visited the Galloway home. The first time, when Mrs. Galloway was questioned, I was vaguely aware that something was wrong, but I couldn’t say what. Then, the other night when our Bible discussion group met there, I became a bit more aware of what it was that was troubling me. It was the color scheme.
“Now God knows I am the last person in the world who might make a living at interior design. But the living room of the Galloway home is somewhat outlandish. I don’t know what the rest of the house is like, but in the living room, they have the walls done in a sort of pale apricot and the upholstered sectional couch and chair are a purplish red. . I believe they call it magenta.”
Both Ewing and Harris had to admit to themselves that they had noticed what they considered the atrocious color scheme. Actually, they had been aware of it long before Koesler, but had simply ascribed it to bad taste and dismissed it from their consideration.
“That,” said Koesler, “is the final detail I checked with Dr. Glowacki.”
“Oh, yes. And I assured the good Father that such colors as he described-an apricot and a magenta-would be a classic kind of blunder of a red-green personality. You see, green plays an important part in this-”
“Is there any way of testing for this?” Harris interrupted. “Is there any way to prove if a person is. . uh. . color-deficient?”
“Oh, my, yes,” said Glowacki. “It’s right here in this little pamphlet, the ‘Ishihara Test for Colour Blindness.’”
“May I?” Harris extended his hand and the doctor gave him the pamphlet. Harris began to page through it.
“You see,” Glowacki explained, “there are ten pages of numbers in that little book. The numbers are formed by outlines of small colored circles.”
“What’s the point?” Harris had completed his scanning of the pamphlet.
“The point,” the doctor responded, “is that normal-sighted people see one thing in that booklet, while color- deficient people see quite another.”
“Could you demonstrate?” Koznicki asked.
“Of course. Sergeant Ewing, would you care to take the test?”
“Sure.”
“Very good.” Glowacki opened the booklet to the first page. “Do you see a number there, Sergeant?”
“Yes. Twelve.”
“That’s correct. Actually, if someone were to miss the twelve, one would be tempted to search for a white cane.” The doctor perceived his attempt at humor was not completely appreciated. His visitors were all business.
“All right,” he turned a page, “and this one, Sergeant?”
“Eight.”
“That’s correct. Now we get into the red-green color deficiency. The color-deficient person sees a three here. And this?”
“A five.”
“The deficient person sees a two.” The doctor continued turning pages.
“Twenty-nine.”
“The deficient person sees seventy.”
“Seventy-four.”
“The deficient sees twenty-one.”
“Seven.”
“The deficient sees nothing here but colored dots.”
“Forty-five.”
“Again, the deficient sees nothing.”
“Two.”
“The deficient sees nothing.” He turned another page.
“There isn’t any number there.” Ewing was surprised; he thought he might have erred.
“No, Sergeant, that’s no mistake.” Glowacki sensed Ewing’s misgiving. “The color-deficient person sees a two here.”
“Sixteen.”
“Again, the deficient person sees no number here.”
“Amazing,” Koznicki commented. “And you say a person with this color deficiency actually sees these numbers that differently from the normal-sighted?”
“Quite. Yes.”
“Now, you see,” said Koesler, “if my theory is correct, someone in the Galloway household has this color deficiency. Either Jay Galloway or his wife, Marjorie. “
“A layman can administer that test, is that correct, Doctor?” Koznicki asked.
“Of course. All one needs to know is what to expect the deficient person to perceive in this test. Father told me you were likely to want to test two subjects separately. So I took the precaution of borrowing another copy of the Ishihara test. You’re perfectly welcome to borrow both, if you wish. “
“You have been most cooperative, Doctor,” said Koznicki. “Ned, you and Ray take one and check out Mr. Galloway. Father Koesler and I will take the other booklet and visit Mrs. Galloway. Call us at the Galloway home as soon as you have completed the test.” He turned to the ophthalmologist.
“Thank you once again, Doctor. You’ve been an enormous help. And remember, not a word of this to anyone. Not until the entire investigation is completed.”
As the three officers and the priest left his office, Dr. Glowacki was tingling. He had never before participated in a murder investigation. It was thrilling. He would, of course, keep their secret. Even from his wife, who would quite naturally want to know what the strange quartet had wanted. Just as she had wanted to know why he was sending her to borrow Dr. Graven’s copy of the Ishihara test. She would learn all in good time. When he and the police had completed their investigation. And when, together, they had apprehended the person who had murdered his late patient.
If Dr. Glowacki was any judge, that would be soon.
Marj Galloway answered the door. As Koznicki and Koesler entered the house, they could see a couple of domestics dusting in the dining area. The living room was unoccupied. Mrs. Galloway invited them in, reluctantly, Koznicki felt, and seemingly with an air of foreboding and inevitability.
Both Koznicki and Koesler separately concluded that even without benefit of makeup, dressed in an old housecoat, and with her hair disheveled, Marj Galloway was a strikingly attractive woman.
“I hope,” Koznicki opened, “that you do not too much mind our intrusion.”
Marj shrugged as if to comment, And if I did. .?
“We will not take up much of your time,” Koznicki proceeded. “We are continuing our investigation into the murder of Mr. Hunsinger. And I wonder if you would be so kind as to help us. “
“Inspector-you did say you are an inspector? — ah, well, Inspector, when is this nonsense going to end? I had an affair with Mr. Hunsinger about a year ago. Apart from the football field, or at a great distance at a few social events, I haven’t had anything to do with the Hun since we broke up. To be perfectly frank with you, I don’t give a good goddamn that he’s dead. But I had nothing to do with his murder.”
“Sometimes,” Koznicki’s voice was soft and persuasive, “it is through your voluntary cooperation that we are able to establish just that: that you are innocent. We are not charging you with any crime. We ask only that you help us by taking a simple, uncomplicated test.”
“A test? What kind of a test?”
“A vision test. “ Koznicki produced the Ishihara booklet.
“A vision test,” she repeated. “Oh, what the hell; let’s get it over with.”
Koznicki held the booklet so all three could see the pages as he turned them.
“Twelve,” Marj read.
