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There Was an Old Woman [= The Quick And the Dead]
- Автор: Куин (Квин) Эллери
- Год: 1943
- Язык: английский
- Год: Little, Brown and Company
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «There Was an Old Woman [= The Quick And the Dead]». Краткое содержание книги:
The Old Woman glared at him. He glared back. Finally, she wriggled down under her silk comforter like a young girl, sullenly. “Talk or get out. What d’ye want to know?”
“What,” said the Inspector instantly, with no trace of triumph, “are the terms of your will?”
Ellery caught the flash from her shoe-buttony eyes, the snick of her jaws. “Oh, that. I don’t mind telling you that, if you promise not to give it to the papers.”
“That’s a promise.”
“You, young man? You’re his son, aren’t you?”
Ellery glanced at her. She glanced away to Dr. Innis. The physician’s back was like a wall.
“My will sets forth three provisions,” she stated in a flat, cold tone. “First: On my death, my estate is to be divided among my surviving children, share and share alike.”
“Yes?” prompted Inspector Queen.
“Second: My husband, Stephen Potts, gets no share at all, neither principal nor income. Cut off. Without a penny.” Her jaws snicked again. “I’ve supported him and Gotch for thirty-three years. That’s plenty.”
“Go on, Mrs. Potts.”
“Third: I am President of the Board of Directors of the Potts Shoe Company. On my death, a new President will have to be elected by the Board. That Board will consist of all my surviving children, and I specifically demand that Simon Underhill, manager of the factories, have one vote, too. I don’t know whether this last will hold up in law,” she added with the oddest trace of humor, “but I don’t imagine anyone involved will take it that far. My word’s been law in life, and I guess it’ll be law in death. That’s all, gentlemen. Get out.”
“Extraordinary woman,” murmured Ellery as they left Cornelia Potts’s apartment.
“This isn’t a case for a cop,” sighed his father. “It needs the world’s ace psychiatrist.”
Charley Paxton came running upstairs from the foyer, and the three men paused in the upper hall. “Is Innis with her?” panted Charley.
“Yes. Does he get much of a fee, Charley?” the Inspector asked curiously.
“An annual retainer. A whopper. And he earns it.”
The Inspector grunted. “She told us about her will.”
“Dad went to work on her,” chuckled Ellery. “By the way, Charley, where does she keep that will?”
“With her other important papers in her bedroom.”
“Was that typewriting exhibition a few minutes ago something new, Charley?”
“Hell, no. We once had a difference of opinion about one of her innumerable verbal ‘instructions.’ She claimed she’d told me one thing, and I darned well knew she’d told me another. We had quite a row over it, and I insisted that from then on I wanted written, signed instructions. Only time she and I’ve agreed on anything. Since then she types out her memos on that portable, and always signs them with one of those soft pencils.”
The Inspector brushed this aside. “She told us she’d cut her husband, this Stephen Brent Potts, off without a cent. Is that legal, Charley? I always thought a husband in this state came in for one third of a wife’s estate, with two thirds going to the surviving children.”
“That’s true nowadays,” nodded the attorney. “But it’s been true only since August 31, 1930. Before that date, a husband could legally be cut out of any share in his wife’s estate. And the Old Woman’s will antedates August 31, 1930, so it’s quite legal.”
“Why,” asked Ellery pointedly, “is Sheila’s father being cut off?”
Charley Paxton sighed. “You don’t understand that old she-devil, Ellery. Even though Cornelia Potts married Steve Brent, he never was and never will be a genuine Potts to her except in name.”
“A convenience, huh?” asked the Inspector dryly.
“Just about. The children are part of her, so they’re Pottses. But not Steve. You think Thurlow’s got an exaggerated respect for the Potts name? Where do you suppose he got it from? The Old Woman. She’s drummed it into him.”
“How much is the old witch worth?”
Charley grimaced. “It’s hard to say, Inspector. But on a rough guess, after inheritance taxes and so on are deducted, I’d say she’ll leave a net estate of around thirty million dollars.”
Mr. Queen gurgled.
“But that means,” gasped the Inspector, “that when Bob Potts was alive, the Old Woman’s six kids would have inherited five million apiece?”
“An obscene arithmetic,” groaned his son. “Five million dollars left to a woman like Louella!”
“Don’t forget Horatio,” said Charley. “And for that matter, Thurlow. Thurlow can buy a mess of guns for five million dollars.”
“And with Robert out of the way,” mused the Inspector, “there’s only five to split the loot, so that makes it about six million apiece. Robert’s murder was worth a million bucks cold to each of the Potts heirs!” He rubbed his hands. “Let’s see what we’ve got. Our active suspects are Cornelia, hubby Steve, Major Gotch, Louella, Horatio, and Mac...”
Ellery nodded. “The only ones who had opportunity to switch bullets.”
“All right, Cornelia first.” The Inspector grinned. “Lord knows I never thought I’d be serious about thinking a mother’d kill her own son, but anything’s possible in this family.”
Charley shook his head. “It’s true she hated Robert — she’s always hated the three children of her marriage to Steve — but murder...”
“I’m not impressed, either,” said Ellery with a frown.
“Unless she’s loco in the coco,” said the Inspector.
“I think she’s sane, Dad. Eccentric, but sane.”
“Well, theoretically she’s got a hate motive. Now how does Stephen, the husband, stack up?”
“I can’t see that Steve would have any motive at all,” protested Charley. “Since he’s cut out of the will—”
“By the way,” interrupted Ellery, “does the whole family know the terms of Cornelia’s will?”
Charley nodded. “She’s made no bones about it. I’m sure they do. Anyway, with Steve not getting a cent, he’d have nothing to gain financially by cutting down the number of heirs. So I can’t see a motive for him.”
“Let’s not overlook the fact, too,” Ellery pointed out, “that Stephen Brent Potts is a perfectly sane man, and perfectly sane men don’t murder their sons in cold blood.”
“Steve loved Bob, I think, even more than he loves Mac and Sheila. I can’t see Steve for a moment.”
“How about the old panhandler, Gotch?” demanded the Inspector.
“Nothing to gain financially by Bob’s death.”
“Unless,” said Ellery thoughtfully, “he’s in the pay of one of the others.”
The Inspector looked startled. “You’re kidding.”
Ellery smiled. “By the way, I’ve had a fantastic notion about Gotch. It gives the man a possible motive.”
“What’s that?” asked both men quickly.
“I’d rather not be explicit now. I’ve got quite accustomed myself to the timbre of this case — the operatic timbre. I can only conjecture absurdly without intellectual conviction. But Dad, I’d like to see a report on Gotch’s background.”
“I’ll send a couple of cables... Now Louella.” The Inspector stroked his chin. “Didn’t you say you heard her rant about the money she needs for her laboratory ‘experiments,’ and how Mama turned her down?”
“Seems to me an excellent motive for killing her mother,” retorted Ellery, “not Bob. But I grant that Louella gains by Bob’s death.”
“Then there’s Horatio, the Boy Who Never Grew Up—”
“Aaa, Horatio has no interest in money,” grunted Charley. “And I don’t think he’s said ten words to Bob in a year. He gains, but I can’t see Horatio as the one behind this.”