Ellery Queen - The Origin of Evil

Young Macgowan rolled over on his back and belched smoke. Out of the reek his voice mumbled something ineffectual. Then it stopped. When the smoke cleared, he was lying there with his eyes shut.

“You won’t tell me.”

“Laur, I can’t. It’s got... nothing to do with anything. Just some cockeyed thing of my own.”

Laurel seated herself on the bed again. He was very long, and broad, and brown and muscular and healthy-looking. She took a Dunhill from her coat pocket and lit it with shaky fingers. But when she spoke, she sounded calm. “There are too many mysteries around here, Chesty. I know there’s one about you, and where you’re concerned...”

His eyes opened.

“No, Mac, stay there. I’m not entirely a fool. There’s something behind this tree house and all this learned bratwurst about the end of civilization, and it’s not the hydrogen bomb. Are you just lazy? Or is it a new thrill for some of your studio girls ― the ones who want life with a little extra something they can’t get in a motel?” He flushed, but his mouth continued sullen. “All right, we’ll let that go. Now about this love business.”

She put her hand in his curly hair, gripping. He looked up at her thoroughly startled. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

“That’s for thanks. You’re such a beautiful man, Mac... you see, a girl has her secrets, too― No! Mac, no. If we ever get together, it’s got to be in a clean house. On the ground. Anyway, I have no time for love now.”

“No time!”

“Darling, something’s happening, and it’s ugly. There’s never been any ugliness in my life before... that I can remember, that is. And he was so wonderful to me. The only way I can pay him back is by finding whoever murdered him and seeing him die. How stupid does that sound? And maybe I’m kind of bloodthirsty myself. But it’s all in the world I’m interested in right now. If the law gets him, fine. But if...”

“For God’s sake!” Crowe scrambled to his feet, his face bilious. A short-nosed little automatic had materialized in Laurel’s hand and it was pointing absently at his navel.

“If they don’t, I’ll find him myself. And when I do, Mac, I’ll shoot him as dead as that dog. If they send me to the gas chamber for it.”

“Laurel, put that blamed thing back in your pocket!”

“No matter who it is.” Her green, brown-flecked eyes were bright.

The gun did not move. “Even if it turned out to be you, Mac. Even if we were married ― had a baby. If I found out it was you, Mac, I’d kill you, too.”

“And I thought Roger was tough.” Macgowan stared at her. “Well, if you find out it was me, it’ll serve me right. But until you do―”

Laurel cried out. The gun was in his hand. He turned it over curiously.

“Nasty little beanshooter. Until you do, Red, don’t let anybody take this away from you,” and he dropped it politely into her pocket, picked her up, and sat down on the bed with her.

A little later Laurel was saying faintly, “Mac, I didn’t come here for this.”

“Surprise.”

“Mac, what do you think of Ellery Queen?”

“I think he’s got a case on Ma,” said the giant. “Do we have to talk?”

“How acute of you. I think he has, too. But that’s not what I meant. I meant professionally.”

“Oh, he’s a nice enough guy...”

“Mac!”

“Okay, okay.” He got u.p sullenly, dumping her. “If he’s half as good as his rep―”

“That’s just it. Is he?”

“Is he what? What are we talking about?” He poured himself a drink.

“Is he even half as good?”

“How should I know? You want one?”

“No. I’ve dropped in on him twice and phoned him I don’t know how many times in the past couple of days, and he’s always there. Sitting in his crow’s nest, smoking and scanning the horizon.”

“Land ho. It’s a way of life, Laurel.” Macgowan tossed it off and made a face. “That’s the way these big-shot dicks work sometimes. It’s all up here.”

“Well, I’d like to see a little activity on the other end.” Laurel jumped up suddenly. “Mac, I can’t stand this doing nothing. How about you and me taking a crack at it? On our own?”

“Taking a crack at what?”

“At what he ought to be doing.”

“Detecting?” The big fellow was incredulous.

“I don’t care what you call it. Hunting for facts, if that sounds less movie-ish. Anything that will get somewhere.”

“Red Hill, Lady Dick, and Her Muscle Man,” said young Macgowan, touching the ceiling with both hands. “You know? It appeals to me.”

Laurel looked up at him coldly. “I’m not gagging, Mac.”

“Who’s gagging? Your brain, my sinews―”

“Never mind. Good night.”

“Hey!” His big hand caught her in the doorway. “Don’t be so half-cocky. I’m really going birdy up here, Laurel. It’s tough squatting in this tree waiting for the big boom. How would you go about it?”

She looked at him for a long time. “Mac, don’t try to pull anything cute on me.”

“My gosh, what would I pull on you!”

“This isn’t a game, like your apeman stunt. We’re not going to have any code words in Turkish or wear disguises or meet in mysterious bistros. It’s going to be a lot of footwork and maybe nothing but blisters to show for it. If you understand that and still want to come in, all right. Anything else, I go it solo.”

“I hope you’ll put a skirt on, or at least long pants,” the giant said morosely. “Where do we start?”

“We should have started on that dead dog. Long ago. Where it came from, who owned it, how it died, and all that. But now that’s as cold as I am... I’d say, Mac,” said Laurel, leaning against the jamb with her hands in her pockets, “the arsenic. That’s fresh, and it’s something to go on. Somebody got into the kitchen over there and mixed arsenic in with Roger’s tuna. Arsenic can’t be too easy to get hold of. It must leave a trail of some sort.”

“I never thought of that. How the dickens would you go about tracing it?”

“I’ve got some ideas. But there’s one thing we ought to do before that. The tuna was poisoned in the house. So that’s the place to start looking.”

“Let’s go.” Macgowan reached for a dark blue sweater.

“Now?” Laurel sounded slightly dismayed.

“Know a better time?”

Mrs. Williams came in and stumbled over a chair. “Mr. Queen? You in here?”

“Present.”

“Then why don’t you put on a light?” She found the switch. Ellery was bunched in a corner of the sofa, feet on the picture window, looking at Hollywood. It looked like a fireworks display, popping lights in all colors. “Your dinner’s cold.”

“Leave it on the kitchen table, Mrs. Williams. You go on home.”

She sniffed. “It’s that Miss Hill and the naked man, only he’s got clothes on this evening.”

“Why didn’t you say so!” Ellery sprang from the sofa. “Laurel, Mac! Come in.”

They were smiling, but Ellery thought they both looked a little peaked. Crowe Macgowan was in a respectable suit; he even wore a tie.

“Well, well, still communing with mysterious thoughts, eh, Queen? We’re not interrupting anything momentous?”

“As far as I can see,” said Laurel, “he hasn’t moved from one spot in sixty hours. Ellery,” she said abruptly, “we have some news for you.”

“News? For me?”

“We’ve found out something.”

“I wondered why Mac was dressed,” said Ellery. “Here, sit down and tell me all about it. You two been on the trail?”

“There’s nothing to this detective racket,” said the giant, stretching his legs. “You twerps have been getting away with mayhem. Tell him, Red.”