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:
“But note that I said ‘the insoluble crime’ — not ‘the perfect crime.’ This isn’t the perfect crime by a long shot. The criminal has actually left clews clearly comprehensible and, as far as they go, conclusive. No, these crimes don’t exhibit the master touch, John. Far from it. Either our gentle fiend has been able to neutralize his errors, or fate has stepped in to accomplish the same end...”
Ellery savagely crushed the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray on the desk. “There’s only one thing left for us to do. And that is to go over with a fine-comb the background of every individual we’ve examined so far. By Christopher, there must be something hidden somewhere in the stories of these people! It’s our last port-o’-call.”
Minchen sat up with sudden eagerness. “I can help you there,” he said hopefully. “I’ve come across a fact that may be useful...”
“Yes?”
“I worked rather late last night trying to catch up on the book Janney and I were doing. Sort of taking up where the old man left off. And I discovered something about two of the people in the case which, strangely enough, I never even suspected before.”
Ellery frowned. “You mean a reference in the manuscript? I fail to see—”
“Not in the manuscript. In the records which Janney has been collecting for twenty years... Ellery, this matter is a professional secret, and under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t let even you know about it...”
“Whom does it concern?” asked Ellery, sharply.
“Lucius Dunning and Sarah Fuller.”
“Ah!”
“You promise that if it doesn’t affect the case you’ll not let it get into the records?”
“Yes. Yes. Go on, John; this interests me.”
Minchen spoke rapidly. “You know, I suppose, that whenever specific cases are cited in a medical work, only initials are given, or case-numbers. This is done out of consideration for the patient, and also because whatever else about him may be vital to an understanding of his pathology, certainly his name and identity are not.
“In looking over some case-records last night which had not yet been incorporated into the manuscript of Congenital Allergy, I came across one — an old one dated about twenty years ago — which bore a special” footnote. This note explained that special care was to be exercised in citing the facts so that no clew, not even the legitimate initials of the patients involved, was to be left to their identity.
“This was so unusual that I immediately read the case even though I was not yet prepared to put it into the book. The case concerned Dunning and the Fuller woman. Sarah Fuller was described as a patient in a premature confinement — a Cæsarian delivery — and there were certain other circumstances surrounding the confinement and the sex background of the parents which made the case pointed material for our book.” Minchen’s voice sank. “The child was illegitimate. And she’s now known as — Hulda Doorn!”
Ellery gripped the arms of his chair as he stared unseeingly at the physician. A slow humorless smile began to form on his face. “Hulda Doorn a bastard,” he repeated distinctly. “Well!” He relaxed and lit another cigarette. “That’s information indeed. Clears up a most perplexing point. I don’t see that it alters the ultimate state of the case’s solubility but — go ahead, John. What else?”
“At this time Dr. Dunning was a struggling young practitioner who devoted a few hours a day in the Hospital on a visiting basis. How he met Sarah Fuller I don’t know, but they had the clandestine affair and Dunning couldn’t marry her because he was already married. In fact, he had a daughter two years old — Edith. I understand that Sarah was far from unattractive as a girl... Of course these items aren’t strictly medical; all the cases before they’re whipped into shape bear voluminous notes about contributory facts.”
“Of course. Proceed!”
“As it turned out, Abby learned of Sarah’s condition and because of her interest in Sarah took a lenient view of the affair. She preferred to hush up the Dunning end, even retaining him subsequently on the Hospital staff. And she solved the whole nasty situation by adopting the child as her own.”
“Legally, I suppose?”
“Apparently. Sarah had no choice; the record says that she agreed to the arrangement without much argument. She swore never to interfere in the rearing of the child, who was to be known as Abigail’s daughter.
“Now, Abby’s husband was alive at this time, although she was childless. The matter was kept a dead secret from everybody, including the Hospital personnel, with the exception of Dr. Janney, who delivered Sarah of the child. Abby’s powerful influence smothered any contemporary rumors.”
“This really goes a long way toward explaining some obscure points,” said Ellery. “It explains the quarrels between Abby and Sarah, who no doubt came to regret her enforced bargain. It explains Dunning’s eagerness to defend Sarah’s innocence of the murder of Abby, since the story of his youthful indiscretion would come out if she were arrested and ruin him domestically, socially and I suppose professionally.” He shook his head. “But I still don’t see how it helps us to a solution. Granted that it gives Sarah a strong motive for killing Abby and an understandable one in the case of Janney. Perhaps this is one of those paranoiacal crimes induced by a persecution mania. The woman’s obviously unbalanced. But...”
He sat up abruptly. “John, I’d like to cast my peepers over that case-record, if I may. There may be something there the significance of which has escaped you.”
“No reason why I shouldn’t show it to you, as long as I’ve spilled this much,” said Minchen in a tired voice.
He dragged himself to his feet and with an absent look began to walk toward the corner of the room behind Dr. Janney’s desk.
Ellery chuckled as Minchen tried to squeeze behind Ellery’s chair. “Where do you think you’re going, professor?”
“Huh?” Minchen looked blank for an instant. Then a grin stretched his mouth and he scratched his head. He began to retrace his steps, crossing to the door. “Just goes to show how muddle-headed I’ve become since the old man died. Absolutely forgot that I’d had Janney’s files removed from behind his desk there as soon as I got here yesterday and found him murdered...”
“WHAT?”
Years afterward Ellery liked to recall this seemingly innocent scene, at which time, he would say, he experienced “the most dramatic moment of my nefarious career as a crime-investigator.”
In one forgotten incident, in the short space of a single statement, the entire Doorn-Janney case assumed a new, a startling complexion.
Minchen remained where he was, dumfounded by the vigor of Ellery’s exclamation. He regarded Ellery unbelievingly.
Ellery had flung himself to the floor and was now on his knees behind the swivel-chair, examining the linoleum with minute care. After a moment he rose energetically, smiling even as he wagged his head to say, “Not a trace of the files on the floor. And all because of a new linoleum. Well, that exonerates my powers of observation...”
He rushed across the room and seized Dr. Minchen’s shoulder in an iron grip. “John, you’ve clinched it! Wait a minute now... Come back in here, man — never mind that blasted case-record!”
Minchen shrugged helplessly and sat down again, watching Ellery with mingled amusement and despair. Ellery strode up and down the room, smoking furiously.
“I gather that here’s what happened,” he chanted gleefully. “You got here a few moments before I did, found Janney dead, knew the police would be all over the place in no time, and so you decided to spirit away those cherished and valuable records — put ’em where they would be safe. Am I right?”