Comparing the dates of his meeting with Judd and Diane's visit to the brownstone, Delaney guessed what had happened.
But he had to confirm it. He dialed Carol Judd's number and, because he was a superstitious man, he told himself that if she was home, it would be a good omen and his theory would prove out.
She was home.
'Miss Judd?' he boomed.
'Edward X. Delaney here.'
'Oh, hi, Mr. Delaney. That was a nice lunch we had.
When are we going to do it again?'
He laughed.
'It looks like I owe you a lot of lunches. But meanwhile there's one little question you can answer for me.
Remember when I first called you, I suggested you check with Diane Ellerbee to make sure I wasn't just a telephone freak.'
'Sure, I remember that. I called and she said you were okay and I could talk to you.'
'Uh-huh. Now for my question: Did she call you back later and ask you what questions I had asked?'
Silence for a second. Then: 'Let's see… I think she called the next day. She was trying to find me a job, you know. We talked about that for a while and… Yes, you're right; she wanted to know what questions you had asked.'
'And you told her,' Delaney said, 'that I had asked if you had noticed any change in her husband's personality. And you told her what you told meright?'
'I really can't remember, but I suppose I did. Shouldn't I have?'
'Of course you should!' he said heartily.
'Thank you for your help, Carol. And I was serious about having another lunch. May I call you?'
'Anytime,' she said breezily.
He hung up, smiling coldly. That was some brainy lady.
Not Carol Judd, but Diane Ellerbee. When she heard that he had asked if the victim's manner had changed, she realized he had probably asked the same question of Joan Yesell and Sylvia Mae Otherton and received similar answers.
But she, the wife, who should have been the most sensitive to her husband's moods, had said, oh, no, he hadn't changed.
So, having lied and fearing that Delaney would pick up on it, she had hiked herself to the brownstone and confessed: Oops, I made a mistake; he had become moody in the past year.
Delaney could appreciate her thinking; she had made an error and was covering up. That was okay; her ass was on the line and she had to improvise to protect it. He could understand that. But as far as he was concerned, it was another indication of her guilt. Nothing that would condemn her in a court of law, but significant.
There was another question that had to be answered. He phoned Detective Charles (Daddy Warbucks) Parnell, and the wife said he was working at a Staten Island precinct and could probably be reached there. She gave Delaney the number, but when he called, they said Parnell had already left, heading for one Police Plaza.
Delaney finally tracked him down. After an exchange of pleasantries, he asked Parnell, 'Do you know the attorney who wrote Simon Ellerbee's will and put it into probate?'
'Yeah, I know the guy. Not well, but I know him. What do you need?'
'Just the date when Ellerbee made out his will. That business of canceling his patients' outstanding bills-I'd like to find out when Ellerbee decided on that.'
'I don't know if he'll tell me, but I'll try. On Saturdays he's usually playing squash at his club. I'll call him there and get back to you one way or another.'
'Thank you,' Delaney said gratefully.
'I'll be here.'
He went back to the kitchen for another Tuborg and brought it into the study, sipping thoughtfully out of the bottle.
He returned to the matter of how Simon Ellerbee had changed in the last year of his life, after he had started his affair with Joan Yesell. He wondered why Simon's mentor, Dr. Samuelson, hadn't noticed any change in his closest friend's personality.
Delaney dug out the report on Samuelson and there it was: Boone: 'Did you notice any change in Simon Ellerbee in the last six months or a year?'
Samuelson: 'No, no change.'
Delaney stared at the written record of that exchange.
Something wasn't kosher. For a brief moment he wondered if Samuelson had been an accessory to Diane Ellerbee's crime.
He couldn't see it. Still… He phoned Dr. Samuelson.
'Edward X. Delaney here,' he said.
'How are you today, sir?'
'Weary,' Samuelson said.
'Patients this morning. Saturday afternoons I reserve to get caught up on my reading. Professional journals. Very dull stuff.'
'I can imagine,' Delaney said.
'Doctor, something important has come up concerning Simon Ellerbee's death, and I need your help. I was wondering if I could see you tomorrow morning. I know it'll be Sunday, but I hoped you'd still be willing to talk to me.'
'Sure, why not?' Samuelson said.
'What time?'
'Oh, say ten o'clock. All right?'
'In my office. I'll see you then.'
Satisfied, Delaney hung up and swiveled back and forth in his chair, ruminating. He thought about the relationship between Samuelson and Diane Ellerbee, and remembered the way she had treated him when they were at Brewster. He also recalled Rebecca Boone's comment on the drive home.
'I think he's in love with her,' Rebecca had said.
The anklebone was connected to the kneebone which was connected to the thighbone which was connected to the hipbone. Humming, Delaney went to his file cabinet and dug out the biographies.
He found what he was looking for in Jason's report on Samuelson. Some years ago, the doctor had a breakdown and was out of action for about six months. The dates were carefully noted. God bless Jason Two.
Next, Delaney looked up the date of Diane and Simon Ellerbees' marriage.
Samuelson's crackup had occurred about two weeks later. Now that was interesting. Nothing you could take to the bank, but interesting.
Another little piece falling into place.
He was still pondering the significance of the Ellerbeesamuelson relationship when the phone rang. He picked it up, but before he had a chance to speak charles Parnell here,' the detective said, laughing.
'Oh, yes. Thank you for calling back. How'd you make out?'
'Struck gold. The guy had won his squash match-against someone he's been trying to beat for years, so he was celebrating with dry martinis. Just high enough to talk more than he should have. Anyway, Ellerbee made out his will about five years ago. But the clause about his patients' outstanding bills was a codicil added three weeks before he died. Any help?'
'It's beautiful,' Delaney said.
'Thank you very much, and a Happy New Year to you and yours.'
'Same to you, sir.'
Another little piece of the puzzle: Ellerbee canceling Joan Yesell's bills just three weeks before he was wasted-about the time, Delaney figured, the victim told his wife he wanted a divorce. Was he just being generous to his new love or did he have a premonition of his death?
Simon: 'Diane, I want a divorce.'
