“If you’ll be so kind as not to,” said Dakin to the newspaper publisher with an apologetic smile. ”Thank you. Now, how come this sister of Jim Haight’s swallowed rat-killer?”
Carter Bradford and Dr. Willoughby told him.
Mr. Queen, seated in his corner like a spectator at a play, watched and listened and pondered how much like a certain New York policeman Chief Dakin of Wrightsville seemed. That ingrown air of authority . . .
Dakin listened to the agitated voices of his townsfellows respectfully; only his light eyes moved?they moved over Mr. ”Smith’s” person three times, and Mr. ”Smith” sat very still. And noted that, after the first quick glance on entering the room, Chief Dakin quite ignored Haight, who was a lump on a chair.
“I see,” said Dakin, nodding. ”Yes, sir,” said Dakin. ”Hmm,” and he shambled off with his loose gait to the kitchen.
“I can’t believe it,” groaned Jim Haight suddenly. ”It’s an accident. How do I know how the stuff got into it? Maybe some kid. A window. A joke. Why, this is
No one answered him.
Jim cracked his knuckles and stared owlishly at the filled-out newspapers on the sofa.
Red-faced Patrolman Brady came in from outdoors, a little out of breath and trying not to look embarrassed.
“Got the call,” he said to no one in particular. ”Gosh.” He tugged at his uniform and trod softly into the kitchen after his Chief.
When the two officers reappeared, Brady was armed with numerous bottles, glasses, and odds and ends from the kitchen “bar.” He disappeared; after a few moments he came back, empty-armed.
In silence Dakin indicated the various empty and half-empty cocktail glasses in the living room.
Brady gathered them one by one, using his patrolman’s cap as a container, picking them up in his scarlet fingers delicately, at the rim, and storing them in the hat as if they had been fresh-laid pigeon eggs.
The Chief nodded and Brady tiptoed out.
“For fingerprints,” said Chief Dakin to the fireplace. ”You never can tell. And a chemical analysis, too.”
“What!” exclaimed Mr. Queen involuntarily.
The Dakin glance x-rayed Mr. Queen’s person for the fourth time.
“How do, Mr. Smith,” said Chief Dakin, smiling. ”Seems like we’re forever meeting in jams. Well, twice, anyway.”
“I beg pardon?” said Mr. ”Smith,” looking blank.
“That day on Route 16,” sighed the Chief. ”I was driving with Cart here. The day Jim Haight was so liquored up?”
Jim rose; he sat down. Dakin did not look at him.
“You’re a writer, Mr. Smith, ain’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Heard tell all over town. You said ‘What!’ “
Ellery smiled. ”Sorry. Wrightsville?fingerprints . . . It was stupid of me.”
“And chem lab work? Oh, sure,” said Dakin. ”This ain’t New York or Chicago, but the new County Courthouse building; she’s got what you might call unexpected corners.”
“I’m interested in unexpected corners, Chief.”
“Mighty proud to know a real live writer,” said Dakin. ”Course, we got Frank Lloyd here, but he’s more what you’d call a hick Horace Greeley.” Lloyd laughed and looked around, as if for a drink. Then he stopped laughing and scowled. ”Know anything about this, Mr. Smith?” asked Dakin, glancing at Lloyd’s great back.
“A woman named Rosemary Haight died here tonight.” Ellery shrugged. ”The only
“Poisoned, Doc Willoughby says,” said Dakin politely. ”That’s another fact.”
“Oh, yes,” said Ellery with humility.
And tried to become invisible as Dr. Willoughby sent him a thick-browed question. Watch yourself. Doc Willoughby is remembering that little bottle of ferric hydroxid you whipped out when Nora Haight required an antidote against arsenic poisoning and even minutes were precious . . . Will the good doctor tell the good policeman the strange fact that a stranger to the house and the people and the case carried so strange a preparation as ferric hydroxid about with him when, strangely, one woman died and another was made seriously ill by the poison for which it was the official antidote?
Dr. Willoughby turned away.
He suspects I know something involving the Wright family, thought Ellery. He’s an old friend. He brought the three Wright girls into the world . . . He’s uneasy. Shall I make him still uneasier by confiding that I purchased the drug because I promised Patty Wright her sister Nora wouldn’t die?
Mr. Queen sighed. It was getting complicated.
“The family,” said Chief Dakin. ”Where they at?”
“Upstairs,” said Bradford. ”Mrs. Wright insists that Nora?Mrs. Haight?be moved over to the Wright house.”
“This is no place for her, Dakin,” said Dr. Willoughby. ”Nora’s pretty sick. She’ll need plenty of care.”
“It’s all right with me,” said the Chief. ”If it’s all right with the Prosecutor.”
Bradford nodded hastily and bit his lip. ”Don’t you want to question them?”
“Well, now,” said the Chief slowly, “I can’t see the sense of making the Wrights feel worse ‘n they feel already. At least right now. So if you’ve got no objection, Cart, let’s call it a night.”
Carter said stiffly: “None at all.”
“Then we’ll have a get-together right here in this room in the mornin’,” said Dakin. ”You tell the Wrights, Cart. Sort of keep it unofficial.”
“Are you remaining here?”
“For a spell,” drawled Dakin. ”Got to call in somebody to haul this
“No
The Dakin eyes made another inspection. ”Well, no, Mr. Smith . . . Okay for you, Mr. Lloyd. Go easy on these folks in your paper, hey? This’ll raise plenty of hallelujah as it is, I guess . . . No, sir, Mr. Smith. Got to use a reg’lar undertaking parlor. You see”?and the Chief sighed?”ain’t never had a homicide in Wrightsville before, and I been Chief here for pretty near twenty years. Doc, would you be so kind? Coroner Salemson’s up in Piny Woods on a New Year vacation.”
“I’ll do the autopsy,” said Dr. Willoughby shortly. He went out without saying good-night.
Mr. Queen rose.
Carter Bradford walked across the room, stopped, looked back.
Jim Haight was still sitting in the chair.
Bradford said in an angry voice: “What are you sitting here for, Haight?”
Jim looked up slowly. ”What?”
“You can’t sit here all night! Aren’t you even going up to your wife?”
“They won’t let me,” said Jim. He laughed and took out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. ”They won’t let me.”
He leaped from the chair and dashed upstairs. They heard the slam of a door?he had gone into his study.
“See you in the morning, gents,” said Chief Dakin, blinking at Ellery.
They left the Chief in the untidy living room, alone with Rosemary Haight’s body. Mr. Queen would like to have stayed, but there was something in Chief Dakin’s eyes that discouraged company.
* * *
Ellery did not see Patricia Wright until they all gathered in the same untidy room at ten o’clock on the morning of New Year’s Day . . . all except Nora, who was in her old bed in the other house, guarded by Ludie behind the closed vanes of the Venetian blinds. Dr. Willoughby had already seen her this morning, and he forbade her leaving the room or even setting foot out of bed.
“You’re a sick biddy, Nora,” he had said to her sternly. ”Ludie, remember.”
