The Dutch Shoe Mystery

“Oh, no, you can’t,” retorted the Inspector. “Sit down, Miss Fuller. You’re going to be here for some time yet.” She seemed deaf. An exalted expression crept over the harsh lines of her face. “Oh, for God’s sake!” shouted the Inspector, “stop acting and come down to earth! Here—” He ran across the room and gripped her arm roughly, shaking her. The peaceful, remote look did not leave her. “You’re not in church now — snap out of it!”

She permitted the Inspector to lead her to the chair, but absently, as if he and all his cohorts could do nothing to harm her. She did not again glance at the dead woman. Ellery, who was watching thoughtfully, signaled to the internes.

Hastily, in open relief, the white-garmented attendants wheeled the table to the elevator-shaft at the right side of the Anteroom, opened the door, and disappeared into the elevator. Ellery could see, beyond the grilled car, another door which apparently led to the East Corridor. The door closed and the slight sound of the moving vehicle came through the thin shaft-wall as the elevator descended slowly to the morgue room in the basement.

The Inspector muttered to Ellery, “Here, son, there’s nothing to be got out of her. She’s a lunatic. To my mind, we’d do better to follow up by questioning others about her. What do you think?”

Ellery glanced at the woman, who sat stiffly in the chair, eyes far away. “If nothing else,” he said grimly, “she’s a fine psychiatric object-lesson. I think I’ll have another go at her and see her reaction... Miss Fuller!”

Her rapt eyes turned to him, blankly.

“Who might have desired to kill Mrs. Doorn?”

She shivered; the film began to fade from her eyes. “I... don’t... know.”

“Where were you this morning?”

“At home, first. Some person telephoned. There was an accident, they said... God of vengeance!” Her face flamed; when she continued it was more lucidly, in a flatter tone. “Hulda and I came to this place. We waited for the operation.”

“You were with Miss Doorn all the time?”

“Yes. No.”

“Which is it?”

“No. I left Hulda in that Waiting Room across the hall. I was nervous. I walked about. Nobody stopped me. I walked, and walked, and then” — a cunning look crept into her eyes — “then I came back to Hulda.”

“And you didn’t speak with any one?”

She looked up slowly. “I sought information. I looked for a doctor. Dr. Janney. Dr. Dunning. The young Dr. Minchen. I found only Dr. Dunning, in his office. He reassured me, and I went away.”

Ellery murmured, “Check!” and began to stride up and down before her. He seemed to be revolving something in his mind. Sarah Fuller sat stolidly and waited.

When he spoke, it was with a crackle of menace in his voice. He whirled upon her. “Why didn’t you transmit Dr. Janney’s telephone message last night to Miss Doorn about administering the insulin injection?”

“I was ill myself yesterday. I was in bed most of the day. The message came and I took it. But by the time Hulda returned I was asleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell her in the morning?”

“I forgot.”

Ellery leaned over her, stared into her eyes. “You realize, don’t you, that by your unfortunate lapse of memory, you are morally responsible for Mrs. Doorn’s death?”

“Why... what—?”

“If you had given Miss Doorn Dr. Janney’s message, she would have administered the insulin to Mrs. Doorn, Mrs. Doorn would not have fallen into the coma this morning, and consequently would not have been placed on an operating-table to lie at the mercy of a murderer. Well?”

Her glance did not waver. “His will be done...”

Ellery straightened, murmured, “You quote Scripture nicely... Miss Fuller, why was Mrs. Doorn afraid of you?”

She drew in her breath sharply. Then she smiled an odd smile, compressed her lips and sank back against the chair. There was something eerie in her bitter old face. And her eyes were still hard and icy and, somehow, unearthly.

Ellery retreated. “Dismissed!”

She rose, arranged her garments with a shy movement and, without a glance or a word, floated from the room. At a sign from the Inspector the detective named Hesse followed. The Inspector took a short and irritable turn about the room. Ellery mused deeply where he stood.

A black-jowled man in a rakish derby hat strolled into the Anteroom, past Velie. He was chewing a dead, foul-smelling cigar. He tossed a black physician’s bag onto the wheel-table and stood rocking on his heels, surveying the gloomy little group quizzically.

“Hi there!” he said at last, spitting a piece of tobacco on the tiled floor. “Don’t I get any attention? Where’s the funeral?”

“Oh, hello, Doc.” The Inspector absently shook hands. “Ellery, say hello to Prouty.” Ellery dutifully nodded. “The body is in the morgue now, Doc,” said the old man. “They’ve just carted it down into the basement.”

“Well, I’ll be on my way, then,” said Prouty. He strode to the elevator-door. “This it?” Velie pressed a button and they heard the elevator grind upward. “By the way, Inspector,” said Prouty, opening the door, “the Medical Examiner may come into this thing himself. Doesn’t seem to trust his assistant.” He chuckled. “So old Abby’s got it at last, eh? Well, she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last. Keep smiling!” He disappeared into the car and the elevator again clanked its way to the floor below.