Эллери Куин - Dutch Shoe Mystery

Ellery had summoned his father’s cronies to solemn conclave. His plans were shrouded in mist and mystery. If during the darkness of Friday night he had confided to his father something of what was in his mind, neither father nor son revealed the confidence. Nor did either refer to the incident of Pete Harper’s nonchalant appearance at their door at 2:30 A.M. Saturday morning. Perhaps the Inspector was unaware of the reporter’s nocturnal visit; he had been tossing on his bed when Ellery, in dressing-gown and slippers, admitted Harper to the apartment, gave him a stiff drink of whisky and a handful of cigarettes, took from him a slim crackling document and packed him off, bleary-eyed but imperturbable, to his own rooms.

On Saturday afternoon at 2:00 o’clock Inspector Queen and Ellery Queen entertained two guests at luncheon — District Attorney Sampson and Sergeant Velie. Djuna, lips parted, hovered about them.

Sampson’s eyes accused Ellery. “There’s something in the wind.”

“A veritable tornado,” smiled Ellery. “Drink your café, Honorable D.A. We are about to embark on a voyage of discovery.”

“You mean — it’s all over?” Sampson was incredulous.

“Nor more nor less.” Ellery turned to Sergeant Velie. “Did you get that report of Kneisel’s contacts during the past day or so?”

“Sure, Mike.” The giant tossed a sheet of paper across the table. Ellery scanned it with half-closed eyes. Then he tossed it back. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

He slumped in his chair and rested in his favorite position — on the nape of his neck. He regarded the ceiling dreamily. “It’s been a fascinating chase,” he murmured. “Involved some pretty points — some pretty points indeed. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more thoroughly — I mean after it was all over.” He grinned.

“I shan’t tell you the answer yet... Some of my reasoning was complicated, and I want to see what dad, or you, Sampson, or you, Velie, make of it.

“Let’s see what we have in the first murder. Well, in the case of Abigail Doorn, there were two extraordinarily fat clews. And so innocent-appearing! Just a pair of white canvas shoes, for one thing, and a pair of white duck trousers, for the other.”

“What of them?” grumbled Sampson. “They were both interesting, I’ll admit, but to base a whole prosecution on ’em—”

“What of them, indeed?” Ellery closed his eyes completely. “Let’s see what you do with them when I bring out some salient items.

“We found a pair of shoes. There were three significant features in these shoes: the broken lace, the adhesive on the lace, and the tongues smoothed up inside to the top of the toe-box.

“On the surface, the explanation seems elementary. The broken lace connotes an accident, the adhesive connotes a repair, and the back-flapped tongues connote — what?”

Sampson fiercely bunched his brows. Gigantic Velie merely seemed bewildered. The Inspector wore a look of concentration. None of the three uttered a sound.

“No answer? You don’t see the logical reasoning?” Ellery sighed. “Well, we’ll let it go at that. Except to add that it was these three items from the impostor’s shoes which gave me the first — and in its way the most important — indication of the truth.”

“Say,” said Velie hoarsely, “you mean to tell me, Mr. Queen, you knew right then and there who pulled the job?”

“Velie, good and earnest soul,” smiled Ellery, “I aver nothing of the kind. But I do say that from analysis of the shoe-points, and from a most illuminating point gleaned from the trousers, my field of speculation narrowed to a gratifying degree. So amazingly so that I could have told you a good deal about the criminal’s general description.

“As for the trousers, surely it must have struck you how interesting and informative were those basted stitches above the knees, and the very presence of the trousers at all...”

“Aside from showing that the original owner of the pants, whoever he was,” said the Inspector wearily, “was taller than the impostor who stole ’em — thereby making it necessary for the impostor to shorten the legs — I can’t see anything eye-opening about the trousers.”

Sampson decapitated the head of a cigar, savagely. “I must be the world’s prize cluck,” he said. “I simply can’t see one conclusive theory so far.”

“Miserere,” murmured Ellery. “And a couple of Kol Nidres. To proceed. We reach the second murder, wherein our late and lamented friend the good leech was summarily removed from the ken of men...

“Here again permit me to be categorical. Before a certain eventuality occurred, there was only one point which stood out. And that was — the condition in which Janney was found.”

“Condition?” Sampson was puzzled.

“Yes. The evidence offered by the simple fact of Janney’s posthumous facial appearance. You will recall that he was murdered obviously in the midst of his work — on the Congenital Allergy manuscript. The expression of his face was as serene as if he had died in his sleep. No surprise, no horror, no apprehension of death.

“Link this with the wound which stunned him and its specific location on his body — and you have a damnably intriguing situation.

“A situation which grew even more intriguing when the second clew presented itself.”

“It doesn’t intrigue me,” said Sampson. He seemed to be in a disagreeable mood.

“Waived, sir.” Ellery smiled again. “The second clew... Ah, the second clew! There’s fate for you, messieurs. Dr. Minchen’s removal of the filing-cabinet which contained Janney’s case-records — knowledge, light, my case was complete. So beautiful, so snugly mortised! And how closely I came to missing it altogether through Minchen’s overdeveloped sense of property value...

“Had the second crime never been committed, the murderer of Mrs. Doorn must have gone scot-free. With all humility I submit the confession that if Janney hadn’t met his Maker as he did I should be helpless to-day. Only by solving the mystery of Janney’s demise was I able to retrace the astounding story of how Mrs. Doorn was murdered.”

Inspector Queen dipped his fingers into his snuff-box. “I’m afraid I’m as dense as friend Henry thinks he is,” he said. “As usual when you’re ‘explaining’ a solution without making a darned thing clear, I feel like the feller who’s told a joke, doesn’t see the point, and laughs anyway to save his face... El, just what is the meaning of that filing-cabinet? From what you say it’s almost as important to you as those shoes, although I can’t see that either. Just how does the cabinet clinch the case?”

Ellery chuckled. “Whereupon we embark upon the voyage of discovery which I predicted a moment ago. The time has come, and so on.” He rose and leaned over the table. “I must admit my pulse is far from normal at the prospect. And I can promise all of you a most delightful surprise... Get your things on, boys, while I call the Hospital.”

They shook their heads at each other as Ellery strode into the bedroom. They heard him call the number of the Hospital.

“Dr. Minchen... John? This is Ellery Queen. I’m going to conduct a little laboratory experiment, and I require the wherewithal... Yes, a little job for you... Fine! Have Dr. Janney’s filing-cabinet restored to his office. And placed in precisely its old and accustomed position... Is that clear?... Yes, at once. I’m leaving for your sacred stamping-ground with a small but distinguished party in two shakes of a whisker. Good-bye!”

Dr. John Minchen, pale and curious, was waiting at the door of Dr. Janney’s office — a policeman on stolid guard at his side — when Ellery, Inspector Queen, the District Attorney, Sergeant Velie and, incredibly, a trembling hot-eyed Djuna walked rapidly into the Dutch Memorial Hospital.