Эллери Куин - Blow Hot, Blow Cold

“Well,” Stanley said bitterly, “you just be sure to tell Masters that. He’ll be interested in the opinion of my own wife .”

“Oh, cut it out, Mae,” Jack said. “I was only pulling Stanley’s leg. Or maybe engaging in a little wishful thinking. Whatever he’s looking for, I’m the one Masters is gunning for.”

“What makes you think so?” Nancy asked suddenly.

“I don’t think, Nancy, I know. When the murder-suicide theory began to pop holes, I knew it was only a matter of time until he got around to me. He’s already been asking questions about me at the hospital. Other places, too, no doubt.”

“Let him ask,” David said heartily. “You were at the hospital that night, Jack, and you can prove it.”

“I can’t prove I didn’t leave for a while. And that’s not all of it. There’s something else he’ll find out, if he hasn’t already. You ought to be satisfied with old Stanley, Mae. You might have been married to me.”

“You’re married to me, as I recall,” Vera said, “and if I’ve had any complaints you’re the only one I’ve expressed them to.”

“That’s true, dear, and I’m grateful. Well, what will be will be. Any case Masters works out against me has to be highly circumstantial. The most he can show is that I could have committed murder, not that I did. I ought to be able to beat the rap with a good lawyer.”

“It would ruin your life,” Vera said. “Who’d go to a doctor acquitted of murder?”

“More than would go to one convicted of it. Anyway, there’s always research or veterinary medicine.”

At that moment the light went out next door. The three couples sat in the deepening dusk in silence, waiting; and after a few minutes, sure enough, the back door of the Connor house opened and Lieutenant Masters appeared. It was quite dark by now, and Masters was blurry in the shadows; he seemed to be doing something to the back door, which he had pulled shut behind him. His mysterious activity soon became clear: the door opened again. He had unlocked it from the outside.

“He’s found it,” Nancy exclaimed. “He’s found the lost key!”

As he turned from the door, Masters noticed them watching him from the Richmond terrace. He came immediately toward them. It was apparent that he had been engaged in some strenuous labor. His tie was hanging limply from his open collar, on his face was a smear of dirt where it had been caked by perspiration. He was holding the key in his right hand. He began to toss and catch it deliberately.

“Good evening,” he said in a peculiar tone.

“Somehow,” said Nancy, “I have a notion that it isn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil your get-together, Mrs. Howell. I can see you all later if you prefer. Or rather the one I want particularly to see.”

“No, thank you. I, for one, would rather not have to wait and wonder. Can’t you advance the time of execution?”

“I agree,” Jack Richmond said. “Even the guilty sleep better if things are settled.”

“In that case,” Masters said, “since you’re the one I want particularly to see, Doctor, I’ll be glad to oblige.”

“That sounds ominous. Am I going to be arrested for something?”

“Are you confessing to something?”

“Not at all. Would you sit down, Lieutenant?”

“Thank you.”

“How civilized we’re all being,” sneered Mae Walters.

“Shut up,” said Stanley Walters savagely. His tone so startled his wife that she shut up.

David Howell said, “My wife guessed that you were looking for Larry’s back-door key, Lieutenant. I see you’ve found it.”

“That’s right, Mr. Howell.”

“I don’t know how ,” Nancy said. “The other morning you and I looked and looked for it, Lieutenant, and we didn’t find it.”

“That was because we didn’t look in the right place.”

“Where was the right place, if it isn’t classified information?”

“Exactly where I suspected,” said Masters, not without satisfaction. “Remember, just as we were leaving, I mentioned having a notion? I got it at the last moment, while I was in the upstairs bathroom. When I opened the medicine cabinet above the washbowl, I noticed the little slot in the cabinet for the disposal of used razor blades. It occurred to me that the razor slot would be a great place for someone to dispose of a key he didn’t want found, and this evening I came back to dig that razor receptacle out. I was right. I found the key lying among a flock of old blades.”

“That was clever of you, Lieutenant,” said Vera Richmond, “jumping to the conclusion that the key had been dropped in there.”

“It wasn’t entirely a guess, Mrs. Richmond. The slot is very narrow, and a more careful examination indicated that something had been forced through it recently.”

“Good work, Lieutenant,” Jack Richmond said. “As my wife says, you’ve been clever.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say as much for our murderer,” said Masters genially. “He made several bad mistakes, and hiding this key was one of them. If he’d just left it lying around, I’d have no special reason to attach any significance to it. By trying to dispose of it, he only called attention to it. Now we know as a fact that he used it to gain entry to the house.”

“And then left the door unlocked when he made his getaway?” Dr. Jack Richmond said.

“He had to do that. He wanted Lila Connor’s body found as quickly as was compatible with his deception regarding the times of death. He counted on someone’s becoming uneasy and insisting on entering the house, and an unlocked back door greased the way. Incidentally, if Mrs. Howell hadn’t insisted on investigating, my guess is the murderer would have done so.”

“That’s the same as saying that the murderer is in this neighborhood, Lieutenant.”

“Closer than that, Doctor. He’s on this terrace.”

There was a dampish silence. Finally Jack Richmond said, “Well, so now what?”

“I’m in no hurry, Doctor,” said Masters comfortably; Nancy hated him. “Would you folks like to know how these murders were pulled off?”

“I’d like to know how you think they were pulled off,” snapped Nancy. “That might not come to the same thing.”

“I’ll be happy to listen to any contrary opinion after I’ve finished, Mrs. Howell,” said the detective with a little nod. “Well, to begin with, let’s assume — just to give us a handle to this thing — let’s assume the murderer was you, Dr. Richmond.”

“Me,” said Jack. “All right, let’s.”

“You spotted Larry Connor leaving his house on what proved to be the night of the crimes. You must have heard him talking to Mrs. Howell outside, because events show that you knew exactly where he was going — and you did say, didn’t you, that the windows of your house here were open that night? Probably you had not yet committed yourself to a program of murder and hocus-pocus. That decision must have come later, when you got a call to come to the hospital and found, after getting there, that you were in for a long wait. The wait presented you with the opportunity, and the rest was brainwork.”

“I sound like a veritable monster,” said Jack.

Masters smiled. “It was a simple matter to arrange for an empty private room to ‘rest’ in. The relative location of the room made it equally simple to slip out and down the stairway and go back unseen later. There was a considerable element of risk, of course. But you’d be safe if you could get back to the room before you were called to your patient — whom you’d examined and whose condition told you roughly how much time you had. You must have estimated that you had over an hour. So you sneaked out and drove to Larry Connor’s office.