The Origin of Evil (12 page)

‘We decided to do a little detecting on our own —'

‘That sounds to me,' murmured Ellery, ‘like the remark of a dissatisfied client.'

‘That's what it is.' Laurel strode around smoking a cigarette. ‘We'd better have an understanding, Ellery. I hired you to find a killer. I didn't expect you to produce him in twenty-four hours necessarily, but I did expect
something — some
sign of interest, maybe even a twitch or two of activity. But what have you done? You've sat here and smoked!'

‘Not a bad system, Laurel,' said Ellery, reaching for a pipe. ‘I've worked that way for years.'

‘Well, I don't care for it!'

‘Am I fired?'

‘I didn't say that —'

‘I think all the lady wants to do,' said young Macgowan, ‘is give you a jab, Queen. She doesn't think thinking is a substitute for footwork.'

‘Each has its place,' Ellery said amiably ‘— sit down, Laurel, won't you? Each has its place, and thinking's place can be very important. I'm not altogether ignorant of what's been going on, seated though I've remained. Let's see if I can't — er — think this out for you …' He closed his eyes. ‘I would say,' he said after a moment, ‘that you two have been tracking down the arsenic with which Priam's tuna was poisoned.' He opened his eyes. ‘Is that right so far?'

‘That's right,' cried Macgowan.

Laurel glared. ‘How did you know?'

Ellery tapped his forehead. ‘Never sell cerebration short. Now! What exactly have you accomplished? I look into my mental ball and I see … you and Mac … discovering a … can of … a can of rat poison in the Priam cellar.' They were open-mouthed. ‘Yes. Rat poison. And you found that this particular rat poison contains arsenic … arsenic, the poison which was also found in Priam's salad. How'm I doin'?'

Laurel said feebly, ‘But I can't imagine how you …'

Ellery had gone to the blonde-wood desk near the window and pulled a drawer open. Now he took out a card and glanced over it. ‘Yes. You traced the purchase of that poison, which bears the brand name of D-e-t-h hyphen o-n hyphen R-a-t-z. You discovered that this revoltingly named substance was purchased on May the thirteenth of this year at … let me see … at Kepler's Pharmacy at 1723 North Highland.'

Laurel looked at Macgowan. He was grinning. She glared at him and then back at Ellery.

‘You questioned either Mr. Kepler himself,' Ellery went on, ‘or his clerk, Mr. Candy — unfortunately my crystal ball went blank at this point. But one of them told you that the can of Deth-on-Ratz was bought by a tall, handsome man whom he identified — probably from a set of snapshots you had with you — as Alfred Wallace. Correct, Laurel?'

Laurel said tightly, ‘How did you find out?'

‘Why, Red, I leave these matters to those who can attend to them far more quickly and efficiently than I — or you, Red. Or the Atomic Age Tree Boy over here. Lieutenant Keats had all that information within a few hours and he passed it along to me. Why should I sauté myself in the California sun when I can sit here in comfort and think?'

Laurel's lip wiggled and Ellery burst into laughter. He shook up her hair and tilted her chin. ‘Just the same, that was enterprising of you, Laurel. That was all right.'

‘Not so all right.' Laurel sank into a chair, tragic. ‘I'm sorry, Ellery. You must think I'm an imbecile.'

‘Not a bit of it. It's just that you're impatient. This business is a matter of legs, brains, and bottoms, and you've got to learn to wait on the last-named with philosophy while the other two are pumping away. What else did you find out?'

‘Nothing,' said Laurel miserably.

‘I thought it was quite a piece,' said Crowe Macgowan. ‘Finding out that Alfred bought the poison that knocked Roger for a loop … that ought to mean something, Queen.'

‘If you jumped to that kind of conclusion,' said Ellery dryly, ‘I'm afraid you're in for a bad time. Keats found out something else.'

‘What's that?'

‘It was your mother, Mac, who thought she heard mice in the cellar. It was your mother who told Wallace to buy the rat poison.'

The boy gaped, and Laurel looked down at her hands suddenly.

‘Don't be upset, Mac. No action is going to be taken. Even though the mice seem to have been imaginary — we could find no turds or holes … The fact is, we have nothing positive. There's no direct evidence that the arsenic in Priam's tuna salad came from the can of rat poison in the cellar. There's no direct evidence that either your mother or Wallace did anything but try to get rid of mice who happen not to have been there.'

‘Well, of course not.' Macgowan had recovered; he was even looking pugnacious. ‘Stupid idea to begin with. Just like this detective hunch of yours, Laurel. Everything's under control. Let's leave it that way.'

‘All right,' said Laurel. She was still studying her hands.

But Ellery said, ‘No. I don't see it that way. It's not a bad notion at all for you two to root around. You're on the scene —'

‘If you think I'm going to rat on my mother,' began Crowe angrily.

‘We seem to be in a rodent cycle,' Ellery complained. ‘Are you worried that your mother may have tried to poison your stepfather, Mac?'

‘No! I mean — you know what I mean! What kind of rat — skunk do you think I am?'

‘I got you into this, Mac,' Laurel said. ‘I'm sorry. You can back out.'

‘I'm
not
backing out! Seems to me you two are trying to twist every word I say!'

‘Would you have any scruples,' asked Ellery with a smile, ‘where Wallace is concerned?'

‘Hell, no. Wallace doesn't mean anything to me. Delia does.' Her son added, with a sulky shrewdness, ‘I thought she did to you, too.'

‘Well, she does.' The truth was, Keats's information about Delia Priam and the rat poison had given him a bad time. ‘But let's stick to Wallace for the moment. Mac, what do you know about him?'

‘Not a thing.'

‘How long has he been working for your stepfather?'

‘About a year. They come and go. Roger's had a dozen stooges in the last fifteen years. Wallace is just the latest.'

‘Well, you keep your eye on him. And Laurel —'

‘On Delia,' said Macgowan sarcastically.

‘Laurel on everything. Keep giving me reports. Anything out of the ordinary. This case may prove to be a series of excavations, with the truth at the bottom level. Dig in.'

‘I could go back to the beginning,' mumbled Laurel, ‘and try to trace the dead dog …'

‘Oh, you don't know about that, do you?' Ellery turned to the writing-desk again.

‘About the
dog
?'

He turned around with another card. ‘The dog belonged to somebody named Henderson who lives on Clybourn Avenue in the Toluca Lake district. He's a dwarf who gets occasional work in films. The dog's name was Frank. Frank disappeared on Decoration Day. Henderson reported his disappearance to the Pound Department, but his description was vague and unfortunately Frank had no licence — Henderson, it seems, is against bureaucracy and regimentation. When the dog's body was picked up at your house, Laurel, in view of its lack of identification it was disposed of in the usual way. It was only afterwards that Henderson identified the collar, which was returned to him.

‘Keats has seen the collar, although Henderson refuses to part with it for sentimental reasons. Keats doubts, though, that anything can be learned from it. There's no trace of the little silver box which was attached to the collar. The receipt Henderson signed at the Pound Department mentions it, but Henderson says he threw it away as not belonging to him.

‘As for what the dog died of, an attendant at the Pound remembered the animal and he expressed the opinion that Frank had died of poisoning. Asked if it could have been arsenic poisoning, the man said, yes, it could have been arsenic poisoning. In the absence of an analysis of the remains, the opinion is worthless. All we can do is speculate that the dog was fed something with arsenic in it, which is interesting as speculation but meaningless as evidence. And that's the story of the dead dog, Laurel. You can forget it.'

‘I'll help wherever I can,' said Laurel in a subdued voice. ‘And again, Ellery — I'm sorry.'

‘No need to be. My fault for not having kept you up to date.' Ellery put his arm around her, and she smiled faintly. ‘Oh, Mac,' he said. ‘There's something personal I want to say to Laurel. Would you mind giving me a couple of minutes with her alone?'

‘Seems to me,' grumbled the giant, rising, ‘as a bloodhound you've got a hell of a wolf strain in you, Queen.' His jaw protruded. ‘Lay off my mother, hear me? Or I'll crack your clavicles for soup!'

‘Oh, stop gibbering, Mac,' said Laurel quickly.

‘Laur, do you want to be alone with this character?'

‘Wait for me in the car.'

Mac almost tore the front door off its hinges.

‘Mac is something like a Great Dane himself,' Laurel murmured, her back to the door. ‘Huge, honest, and a little dumb. What is it, Ellery?'

‘Dumb about what, Laurel?' Ellery eyed her. ‘About me? That wasn't dumb. I admit I've found Delia Priam very attractive.'

‘I didn't mean dumb about you.' Laurel shook her head. ‘Never mind, Ellery. What did you want?'

‘Dumb about Delia? Laurel, you know something about Mac's mother —'

‘If it's Delia you want to question me about, I — I can't answer. May I go now, please?'

‘Right away.' Ellery put his hand on the door-knob, looking down at her cinnamon hair. ‘You know, Laurel, Lieutenant Keats has done some work at your house, too.'

Her eyes flew to his. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Questioning your housekeeper, the chauffeur, the houseman.'

‘They didn't say anything about me!'

‘You're dealing with a professional, Laurel, and a very good one. They didn't realize they were being pumped.' His eyes were grave. ‘A few weeks ago you lost or mislaid a small silver box, Laurel. A sort of pill-box.'

She had gone pale, but her voice was steady. ‘That's right.'

‘From the description Mrs. Monk, Simeon, and Ichiro gave — you'd asked them to look for it — the box must have been about the same size and shape as the one you told me contained the warning note to your father. Keats wanted to quiz you about it immediately, but I told him I'd handle it myself. Laurel, was it your silver box that was attached to the collar of Henderson's defunct dog?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Why didn't you mention to me the fact that a box of the same description belonging to you had disappeared shortly before June second?'

‘Because I was sure it couldn't have been the same one. The very idea was ridiculous. How could it have been my box? I got it at The May Company, and I think The Broadway and other department stores have been carrying it, too. It's advertised for carrying vitamin tablets and things like that. There must have been thousands of them sold all over Los Angeles. I really bought it to give to Daddy. He had to take certain pills and he could have carried this around in his watch-pocket. But I mislaid it —'

‘Could it have been your pill-box?'

‘I suppose it could, but —'

‘And you never found the one you lost?'

She looked at him, worried. ‘Do you suppose it was?'

‘I'm not supposing much of anything yet, Laurel. Just trying to get things orderly. Or just trying to get things.' Ellery opened the door and looked out cautiously. ‘Be sure to tell your muscular admirer that I'm returning you to him
virgo intacto
. I'm sort of sentimental about my clavicles.' He smiled and squeezed her fingers.

He watched until they were out of sight around the lower curve of the hill, not smiling at all.

Ellery went down to his cold supper and chewed away. The cottage was cheerlessly silent. His jaws made sounds.

Then there was a different sound.

A tap on the kitchen door?

Ellery stared. ‘Come in?'

And there she was.

‘Delia.' He got out of his chair, still holding the knife and fork.

She was in a long loose coat of some dark blue material. It had a turned-up collar which framed her head. She stood with her back against the door, looking about the room.

‘I've been waiting in the back garden in the dark. I saw Laurel's car. And after Laurel and … Crowe drove away I thought I'd better wait a little longer. I wasn't sure that your housekeeper was gone.'

‘She's gone.'

‘That's good.' She laughed.

‘Where is your car, Delia?'

‘I left it in a side lane at the bottom of the hill. Walked up. Ellery, this is a darling kitchen —'

‘Discreet,' said Ellery. He had not stirred.

‘Aren't you going to ask me in?'

He said slowly, ‘I don't think I'm going to.'

Her smile withered. But then it burgeoned again. ‘Oh, don't sound so serious. I was passing by and I thought I'd drop in and see how you were getting on —'

‘With the case.'

‘Of course.' She had dimples. Funny, he had never noticed them before.

‘This isn't a good idea, Delia.'

‘What
isn't?'

‘This is a small town, Delia, and it's all eyes and ears. It doesn't take much in Hollywood to destroy a woman's reputation.'

‘Oh, that.' She was silent. Then she showed her teeth. ‘Of course, you're right. It was stupid of me. It's just that sometimes …' She stopped, and she shivered suddenly.

‘Sometimes what, Delia?'

‘Nothing. I'm going — Is there anything new?'

‘Just that business about the rat poison.'