The Dutch Shoe Mystery
- Автор: Куин (Квин) Эллери
- Серия: Ellery Queen #3
- Год: 1931
- Язык: английский
- Год: Frederick A. Stokes
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «The Dutch Shoe Mystery». Краткое содержание книги:
“Oh!” The Inspector tugged at his grey mustache. “Well, I guess I’d make shift with something else, just as the murderer did. But even then—”
“That is so sufficient,” said Ellery didactically, “that I am beginning to feel the gnawing pangs of interest...”
Detective Piggott coughed with the obvious purpose of attracting attention. Inspector Queen turned impatiently.
“Well?”
Piggott reddened. “Somethin’ I sort of noticed,” he said shyly. “Where the devil’s the tongues of these here shoes?”
Ellery chuckled explosively. Piggott regarded him with hurt suspicion. But Ellery took off his pince-nez and began to scrub at them. “Piggott, you deserve a substantial increase in salary.”
“Eh? What’s that?” The Inspector seemed vaguely displeased. “Poking fun at me?”
Ellery pulled a face. “Now, look here,” he said. “Aside from the lace, the — I might call it the Astounding Mystery of the Missing Tongues — becomes a positively integral part of this investigation. Where are they? When I was examining the shoe before, I discovered — this!”
He grasped the shoe swiftly and poked his finger beneath me laces, far into the forward portion of the vamp, near the toe box. With an effort he scraped at something, and in a moment had pulled out the hidden tongue.
“Here it is,” he said. “And it’s significant that it was pressed, tight and smooth, against the upper wall of the toe box... And, unless a most promising little theory has gone a-begging...”
He explored the recesses of the left shoe. Its tongue was also plastered upward and out of sight.
“That’s a queer one,” muttered Inspector Queen. “You’re sure now, Ritter, that you didn’t monkey with these shoes?”
“Johnson’ll tell you,” replied Ritter in an aggrieved tone.
Ellery looked keenly from the Inspector to Ritter; but it was the keenness of introspection. He turned away from the table, head bowed in thought.
“You might be careful of those shoes,” he said absently, striding up and down the Anteroom. He halted. “Dr. Janney.”
The surgeon closed his eyes. “Well.”
“What size shoe do you wear?”
Janney instinctively stole a downward glance at his canvas shoes — apparently exact duplicates of the shoes on the table. “Guess I’m lucky,” he drawled. He rose suddenly, like a Jack-in-the-box. “Still hot on the scent?” he snarled, thrusting his face close to Ellery’s and glaring into his eyes. “Well, Queen, you’re off your trail this time. I wear size 6 ½.”
“Rather small at that,” reflected Ellery... “But you see, these shoes are only size 6!”
“Size 6 it is,” interrupted the Inspector. “But—”
“Hush!” smiled Ellery. “You can’t know how satisfied I feel to find that the murderer wore these shoes — as they are... And my satisfaction has little, Doctor, to do with you... Ritter, where did you find these clothes?”
“Lyin’ on the floor of the telephone booth at the corner of the South and East Corridors.”
“So!” Ellery pulled at his lip, frowning for a long moment. “Dr. Janney, you saw the strip of adhesive I took from this shoe. Is it the same brand as the tape used here?”
“Certainly. What of it? It’s the brand used by practically every hospital in the City.”
“I can’t say I’m drooping with disappointment,” said Ellery. “It was too much to expect that... Of course, Doctor, none of these articles is yours?”
Janney spread his hands. “Oh, what the devil good will it do me to say yes or no? They don’t look it. But I’ll have to check over my locker to make sure.”
“Cap and gag might be yours, eh?”
“Might be anybody’s!” Janney tore at the tight neckband of his gown. “You saw the gown was too long. As for the trousers — just a clumsy disguise. And I’m certain the shoes aren’t mine.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said the Inspector belligerently. “At least we’ve no proof they aren’t.”
“Oh, but we have, dad,” said Ellery in his gentlest voice. “Look here.”
He turned both shoes over and pointed to the heels. They were of black rubber. The shoes showed signs of long usage and the heels had been rubbed smooth by the friction of walking. On the right shoe the heel was considerably worn down on the right side. On the left shoe the heel was similarly worn down on the left side. Putting the shoes close together, Ellery pointed to the heels.
“You’ll observe,” he drawled, “that each heel has been rubbed away to approximately the same depth...”
The Inspector’s glance strayed floorward, to the little surgeon’s left foot. Janney’s weight rested on the other.
“Dr. Janney,” continued Ellery, “is quite right. These shoes are not his!”
Chapter Eleven
Interrogation
Dr. John Minchen’s orderly soul received blow after blow during the hectic morning of Abigail Doorn’s death. His Hospital was disorganized. His internes were stewing about the corridors, smoking in flagrant violation of the rules and discussing the murder in lively professional conversation. The feminine contingent seemed to feel that the tragedy suspended all regulations; they giggled and chattered among themselves until the senior nurses, scandalized, herded them back to their wards and private rooms.
The main floor was crowded with detectives and policemen. Minchen, scowling, weaved his way through the groups which dotted the corridors until he came to the door leading into the Anteroom. He rapped and was admitted by a tobacco-chewing detective.
In a quick glance he encompassed the tableau — Janney, his face pale and set, standing as if at bay in the center of the room; Inspector Queen confronting him, lines of perplexity and irritation on his smooth old face; Ellery Queen leaning against the wheel-table, fingering a white canvas shoe; plain-clothesmen scattered about, silent and watchful.
He coughed. The Inspector pivoted on his heel and walked across the room to the table. A little color came into Janney’s cheeks; his body sagged like an empty sack into a chair.
Ellery smiled. “Yes, John?”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Minchen was nervous. “But things have taken a slightly serious turn in the Waiting Room and I thought—”
“Miss Doorn?” asked Ellery quickly.
“Yes. She’s on the verge of collapse. Really ought to be taken home. Do you think you could possibly—?”
Ellery and the Inspector conferred in low tones. The Inspector looked anxious. “Dr. Minchen, is it really your opinion that the young lady needs...” He chopped his thought abruptly. “Who is her closest kin?”
“Mr. Doorn — Hendrik Doorn. He’s her uncle — Abigail Doorn’s only brother. I would also suggest that a woman accompany her — perhaps Miss Fuller...”
“Mrs. Doorn’s companion?” said Ellery slowly. “No, I think not. Not just yet... John, are Miss Doorn and Miss Dunning chums?”
“Fairly well acquainted.”
“It’s quite a problem.” Ellery gnawed at a fingernail. Minchen stared at him, as if he could not understand the exact nature of this “problem.”
Inspector Queen interposed impatiently, “Oh, after all, son... She can’t very well remain here, in the Hospital. If she’s feeling so badly — poor child! — her place is at home. Let her go, now, and let’s get on.”
“Very well.” The frown did not leave Ellery’s forehead. He patted Minchen’s shoulder absently. “Have Miss Dunning accompany Miss Doorn and Mr. Doorn. But before they go — Yes, that’s best. Johnson, get Mr. Doorn and Miss Dunning in here for a moment. I shan’t keep them long. I suppose, John, there’s a nurse with Miss Doorn?”