Ellery Queen - The Origin of Evil

“I’m not giving up,” snapped Laurel. “I was only going to say that we’ve gone at this like the couple of amateurs we are. Let’s divide the list and split up tomorrow. That way we’ll cover twice the territory in the same time.”

“Functional idea,” grunted the giant. “Now how about getting something to eat? I know a good steak joint not far from here where the wine is on the house.”

Early next morning they parceled the remaining territory and set out in separate cars, having arranged to meet at 6:30 in the parking lot next to Grauman’s Chinese. At 6:30 they met and compared notes while Hollywood honked its homeward way in every direction.

Macgowan’s notes were dismal. “Not a damn lead, and I’ve still got a list as long as your face. How about you?”

“One bite,” said Laurel gloomily. “I played a hunch and went over to a place in Encino. They even carry zoo animals. A man in Tarzana had ordered frogs. I tore over there and it turned out to be some movie star who’d bought two dozen ― he called them ‘jug-o’-rums’ ― for his rock pool. All I got out of it was an autograph, which I didn’t ask for, and a date, which I turned down.”

“What’s his name?” snarled Crowe.

“Oh, come off it and let’s go over to Ellery’s. As long as we’re in the neighborhood.”

“What for?”

“Maybe he’ll have a suggestion.”

“Let’s see what the Master has to say, hey?” hissed her assistant. “Well, I won’t wash his feet!”

He leaned on his horn all the way to the foot of the hill.

When Laurel got out of her Austin, Crowe was already bashing Ellery’s door.

“Open up, Queen! What do you lock yourself in for?”

“Mac?” came Ellery’s voice.

“And Laurel,” sang out Laurel.

“Just a minute.”

When he unlocked the front door Ellery looked rumpled and heavy-eyed. “Been taking a nap, and Mrs. Williams must have gone. Come in. You two look like the shank end of a hard day.”

“Brother,” scowled Macgowan. “Is there a tall, cool drink in this oasis?”

“May I use your bathroom, Ellery?” Laurel started for the bedroom door, which was closed.

“I’m afraid it’s in something of a mess, Laurel. Use the downstairs lavatory... Right over there, Mac. Help yourself.”

When Laurel came back upstairs her helper was showing Ellery their lists. “We can’t seem to get anywhere,” Crowe was grumbling. “Two days and nothing to show for them.”

“You’ve certainly covered a lot of territory,” applauded Ellery. “There are the fixings, Laurel―”

“Oh, yes”

“You’d think it would be easy,” the giant went on, waving his glass. “How many people buy frogs? Practically nobody. Hardly one of the pet shops even handles ‘em. Canaries, yes. Finches, definitely. Parakeets, by the carload. Parakeets, macaws, dogs, cats, tropical fish, monkeys, turkeys, turtles, even snakes. And I know now where you can buy an elephant, cheap. But no frogs to speak of. And toads ― they just look at you as if you were balmy.”

“Where did we go wrong?” asked Laurel, perching on the arm of Crowe’s chair.

“In not analyzing the problem before you dashed off. You’re not dealing with an idiot. Yes, you could get frogs through the ordinary channels, but they’d be special orders, and special orders leave a trail. Our friend is not leaving any trails for your convenience. Did either of you think to call the State Fish and Game Commission?”

They stared.

“If you had,” said Ellery with a smile, “you’d have learned that most of the little fellows we found in Priam’s room are a small tree frog or tree toad ― Hyla regilla is the scientific name ― commonly called spring peepers, which are found in great numbers in this part of the country in streams and trees, especially in the foothills. You can even find bullfrogs here, though they’re not native to this part of the country ― they’ve all been introduced from the East. So if you wanted a lot of frogs and toads, and you didn’t want to leave a trail, you’d go out hunting for them.”

“Two whole days,” groaned Macgowan. He gulped what was left in his glass.

“It’s my fault, Mac,” said Laurel miserably. But then she perked up. “Well, it’s all experience. Next time we’ll know better.”

“Next time he won’t use frogs!”

“Mac.” Ellery was tapping his teeth with the bit of his pipe. “I’ve been thinking about your grandfather.”

“Is that good?” Mac immediately looked bellicose.

“Interesting man.”

“You said it. And a swell egg. Keeps pretty much to himself, but that’s because he doesn’t want to get in anybody’s way.”

“How long has he been living with you people?”

“A few years. He knocked around all his life and when he got too old for it he came back to live with Delia. Why this interest in my grandfather?”

“Is he very much attached to your mother?”

“Well, I’ll put it this way,” said Crowe, squinting through his empty glass. “If Delia was God, Gramp would go to church. He’s gone on her and she’s the only reason he stays in Roger’s vicinity. And I’m not gone on these questions,” said Crowe, looking at Ellery, “so let’s talk about somebody else, shall we?”

“Don’t you like your grandfather, Mac?”

“I love him! Will you change the subject?”

“He collects stamps,” Ellery went on reflectively. “And he’s just taken to hunting and mounting butterflies. A man of Mr. Collier’s age, who has no business or profession and takes up hobbies, Mac, usually doesn’t stop at one or two. What other interests has he?”

Crowe set his glass down with a smack. “Damned if I’m going to say another word about him. Laurel, you coming?”

“Why the heat, Mac?” asked Ellery mildly.

“Why the questions about Gramp!”

“Because all I do is sit here and think, and my thoughts have been covering a lot of territory. Mac, I’m feeling around.”

“Feel in some other direction!”

“No,” said Ellery, “you feel in all directions. That’s the first lesson you learn in this business. Your grandfather knew the scientific name of those spring peepers. It suggests that he may have gone into the subject. So I’d like to know: In those long tramps he takes in the foothill woods, has he been collecting tree frogs?”

Macgowan had gone rather pale and his handsome face looked pained and baffled. “I don’t know.”

“He has a rabbit hutch somewhere near the house, Mac,” said Laurel in a low voice. “We could look.”

“We could, but we’re not going to! I’m not going to! What do you think I am?” His fists were whistling over their heads. “Anyway, suppose he did? It’s a free country, and you said yourself there’s lots of these peepers around!”

“True, true,” Ellery soothed him. “Have another drink. I’ve fallen in love with the old gent myself. Oh, by the way, Laurel.”

“Do I brace myself?” murmured Laurel.

“Well,” grinned Ellery, “I’ll admit my thoughts have sauntered in your direction too, Laurel. The first day you came to me you said you were Leander Hill’s daughter by adoption.”

“Yes.”

“And you said something about not remembering your mother. Don’t you know anything at all about your real parents, where you came from?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry if this distresses you―”

“You know what you are?” yelled Macgowan from the sideboard.

“You’re equally divided between a bottom and a nose!”

“It doesn’t distress me, Ellery,” said Laurel with a rather unsuccessful smile. “I don’t know a thing about where I came from. I was one of those storybook babies ― really left on a doorstep. Of course, Daddy had no right to keep me ― a bachelor and all. But he hired a reliable woman and kept me for about a year before he even reported me. Then he had a lot of trouble. They took me away from him and there was a long court squabble. But in the end they couldn’t find out a thing about me, nobody claimed me, and he won out in court and was allowed to make it a legal adoption. I don’t remember any of that, of course. He tried for years afterwards to trace my parents, because he was always afraid somebody would pop up and want me back and he wanted to settle the matter once and for all. But,” Laurel made a face, “he never got anywhere and nobody ever did pop up.”