The Door Between (11 page)

“Come on,” drawled Terry Ring. “You’re wasting time.”

“Is it so valuable? Now from what I’ve gathered, it appears that an unknown assailant got into Miss Leith’s house through the attic window, came down the attic stairs, stabbed Miss Leith, and made his escape by the same route. This is a theory. But a theory only. For there’s apparently not a single clue, not a single item of evidence, to support it … no footprint in the garden under the ell-roof, no fingerprints so far, nothing at all but a hypothetical way of entrance and exit. It’s the only theory which accounts for Miss Leith’s murder on the basis of physical accessibility.” He shrugged. “
Unless you stabbed her yourself.”

“Oh,” said Eva faintly, and Terry started.

“Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but as I’ve explained to your father, Miss MacClure, I must treat these things as problems in mathematics. There is no evidence to support the theory of an outsider using that open window and door. And you were admittedly in the next room.”

“Eva –” began Dr. MacClure in an agonized voice.

“If you can’t satisfy me about your innocence,” continued Ellery gently, “I shall step out now. With you guilty, this is no case for me – and I shouldn’t care to take it for Dr. MacClure’s sake.”

“Satisfy you!” cried Eva, springing up. “How can I? How could anyone!”

“Did you?” muttered the doctor. “Did you, honey?”

Eva seized her temples with both hands, pushing the coolie hat back. “I think I’m going … No one could believe me. There’s nothing I
can
say. I – I’m just
trapped!”

“Stop it,” said Terry in a low voice.

“I won’t! I didn’t kill Karen! Why should I want to kill her? I was happy – Dick had just promised to marry me – I rushed over to tell Karen. Even if I had a reason, would I have murdered Karen feeling as I did Monday afternoon? Kill!” She sank back in the chair, trembling. “I couldn’t kill a – a bug.”

The doctor stared at her with a different light in his eyes.

“But if I told you the truth,” continued Eva hopelessly, “I –”

“Don’t be a fool,” growled Terry. “Remember what I said!”

“Yes?” prompted Ellery.

“You’d
have
to say I did it. Anyone would, anyone. Anyone!” She began to cry on the arm of the chair.

“Perhaps that’s just the reason,” murmured Ellery, “
I
wouldn’t.”

Terry Ring looked at her, and then he shrugged and went to the window to smoke furiously. Dr. MacClure leaned over to brush her hat off and stroke her hair.

Ellery went to the chair and lifted Eva’s face.

Then Eva sobbed: “I’ll tell you everything.”

Terry swore and hurled his cigaret butt out the window.

When Eva was finished she lay back and closed her eyes, drained and empty. Dr. MacClure was cracking his knuckles in a savage, masochistic way, glaring at his shoes.

Terry said from the window: “All right, Sherlock. What’s the verdict?”

Ellery went into his bedroom and shut the door. They heard the tinkle of the telephone. Then he came out and said: “I really can’t do anything until I’ve gone over that house. I’ve asked Morel, Miss Leith’s lawyer, to meet us there. There are some questions I want to ask him. Miss MacClure.”

“Yes?” said Eva without opening her eyes.

“I want you to get a hold on your nerves. You can help tremendously by being sane about this thing.”

“I’m all right.”

“She’s all right,” said Terry.

“And you, Terry. You’re a professional. Apparently you spotted Miss MacClure’s predicament in a moment. What do
you
think?”

“I think she’s okay just as long as you keep your mouth shut about that bolted door.”

“Always the iconoclast,” murmured Ellery. He took a turn about the room. “I confess it’s a poser. If we assume Miss MacClure’s innocence, the thing’s impossible. It can’t have been done. And yet apparently it was … Terry, why were you in Karen Leith’s house Monday?”

“None of your business.”

“That’s hardly cooperative. And how did you know a Headquarters detective was due there by appointment with Karen Leith, at her own telephoned request Sunday morning, at five o’clock Monday?”

“A little birdie told me.”

“Most important of all, why did you become an accomplice of a girl whom the facts said was a murderess?”

“I’ll tell you that,” rapped Terry, swinging about. “Because it’s too damned pat. Because she’s the
only
one. Because things just don’t happen that way. Because I think she’s being taken for a ride!”

“Ah! Frame-up, eh?”

“Frame-up?” Dr. MacClure shook his head wearily. “That’s impossible, Ring. There just isn’t anyone –”

“But mostly,” said Terry, going over to Eva and smiling down at her, “because I think she’s telling the truth. Maybe I’m a sucker;
I
don’t know. But stick to it, kid. I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Eva flushed; her lower lip quivered. Terry scowled then and began to march across the room.

“I haven’t told you, Ring,” began the doctor awkwardly, “how much I appreciate –”

“Thank
him
,” said Terry, disappearing into the foyer. “He goes for that stuff in a big way.” And they heard the slam of the front door.

“I think,” said Ellery dryly to Eva, “you’ve made a conquest. It’s the only time, to my knowledge, that the feat has been accomplished.”

On the way downtown in a taxicab Ellery asked: “Did anyone know in advance that you were going to Karen Leith’s house Monday afternoon?”

“No one except Dick.” Eva leaned against her father’s shoulder; they both seemed to take comfort from it. “And Dick only knew at a few minutes to four.”

“You went on impulse?”

“Entirely.”

“Terry Ring is wrong then. You couldn’t have been framed.”

To their astonishment they found the peripatetic Mr. Ring in the Washington Square house, guying Inspector Queen, who seemed to be doing nothing at all but enjoying the banter. The two Queens greeted each other with their eyes and then Ellery introduced Dr. MacClure, who looked tired and ill.

“Why don’t you go on home, Doctor?” said the Inspector. “This can’t be pleasant for you. We’ll talk some other time.”

Dr. MacClure shook his head and put his arm about Eva.

The Inspector shrugged. “Well, son, here’s the layout. Kept just as it was found, except for the body.”

Ellery’s nostrils were undulating a little. He gave only a glance to the sitting-room and went straight into the bedroom. They followed him in silence.

Ellery stood on the threshold and looked. He looked and looked without stirring. “Find the weapon?”

“Well – yes,” said the Inspector. “Yes, I think we have.”

Ellery glanced up at his coy tone and began to prowl. “By the way,” he said, looking through the writing-desk, “just how and why did Miss Leith call for a detective?”

“She phoned Headquarters around nine Sunday morning and asked to have a man sent over here at five o’clock Monday. Guilfoyle came and found her dead, with Miss MacClure and Terry here. As she didn’t say why, we’ll probably never know.”

Eva turned her face away. Everything the little old man said went through her like a knife.

“Are you sure,” asked Ellery, “it was Karen Leith who phoned?”

“The Japanese woman, Kinumé, was right here with her when she called up. Listen, Terry,” chuckled the Inspector, “why don’t you come clean? Give us a break.”

“I’m listening,” said Terry shortly.

“You phoned Karen Leith several times over last week-end – fact, you called her Sunday afternoon. O’Mara girl told me. What was your business with Miss Leith?”

“Who says it was business? You coppers give me a pain.”

Inspector Queen shrugged philosophically. He could wait. He had always been good at waiting … Ellery straightened up and fixed his gaze on the empty birdcage hanging near the low Japanese bed.

“Is that supposed to be symbolism, or was there really a bird in that cage?”

“I don’t know,” said the Inspector. “That’s the way we found it. Was it empty when you came in here Monday, Miss MacClure?”

“I really don’t remember.”

“It was empty,” snapped Terry.

“Oracularly spoken,” said Ellery. “Do you know anything about the bird that probably inhabits it, Doctor?”

“Very little. I’ve seen it around, that’s all. Some sort of Japanese bird that Karen brought back with her from Tokyo nine years ago. She was very much attached to it – gave it as much care as a child. Kinumé would know more about it; they came over together.”

The Inspector went out and Ellery resumed his leisurely inspection of the room. He did not glance once into the passage beyond the open attic door. He did look at the bolt, however. Dr. MacClure sat down on a queer little Japanese footstool and buried his face in his hands. Eva edged closer to Terry. There was something in the room that made talking difficult.

When the Inspector returned he was followed by Kinumé, who carried a second cage – different from the one hanging over the bed. There was a bird in the cage. The white maid, O’Mara, was behind Kinumé, stopping in the doorway and peering in with a stupid, avid, and yet fearful curiosity.

“What a beauty!” exclaimed Ellery, taking the cage from the Japanese woman. “You’re Kinumé; I remember. You are sorrowful that your mistress has been taken from you, Kinumé?”

The old woman lowered her eyes, still red from weeping. “This is evil thing, gentleman,” she muttered.

Ellery looked from her to the bird. The two seemed somehow to go together. There was something exotic about the creature, with its head, wings, and tail of purple and its purplish-chocolate body, with delicate hairlines of white on its throat. It had a strong beak, and from beak to tail it was about a foot long. It seemed to resent Ellery; it fixed its brilliant eyes on him, opened its beak, and emitted a harsh, ugly cry.

“Natural compensation,” remarked Ellery. “There had to be a touch of ugliness somewhere. Kinumé, what is the name of this bird?”

“
Kashi
-
dori
,” hissed Kinumé. “You saying – jay. Loo-choo
kashi
-
dori
. He come from my land. He old.”

“Loo-choo jay,” said Ellery thoughtfully. “He does look jayish. Why is he not in his cage in this room, Kinumé?”

“Sometime he here, sometime he downstairs. In other cage. In room of sun. He make noise at night. Missie no can sleep.” Kinumé hid her eyes in her kimono sleeves and wept. “Missie love. Missie love more’n anything. Missie take care all time.”

“I’ll say,” said the O’Mara girl unexpectedly from the doorway. Then, startled by the sound of her own voice, she looked around swiftly and began to retreat.

“Just a moment! What was that?” demanded Ellery.

She stopped, hesitated, began fingering her hair. “I didn’t say nothing,” she replied sullenly.

“But you did.”

“Well, she was crazy about that thing.” The girl began to edge towards the sitting-room door again, eyeing the Inspector.

“Come here,” said Ellery. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“What’s all this fuss about a bird?” scowled the Inspector.

“No fuss at all. I’m just seeking information. What’s your name and how long have you been here?”

“Geneva O’Mara. Three weeks.” She was frightened now, and with a stupid perversity which seemed characteristic she was also ill-humored.

“Do you take care of this bird?”

“
She
does. But I wasn’t here a week –
she
was sick –“ she interpolated, pointing at Kinumé with Nordic scorn, “so I had to feed him his beef and egg and whozis, and the devil got out of the cage and flew into the backyard and we had a terrible time chasing him. He wouldn’t come down from the roof. I thought Miss Leith would throw a fit, she was that mad. She’d like to fire me on the spot. She was always firing her maids. Elsie told me – that’s the last one. All except
her.
”

“You bad girl!” cried Kinumé, her slanted eyes flashing.

“You shut up!”

“Please,” said Dr. MacClure; and the white girl took fright again and fled. The Loo-choo jay squawked again. “Take the damned thing out of here,” said the doctor wearily.

“Birds,” said Terry Ring; he looked disgusted.

“You may go,” said Ellery to Kinumé; and she bowed humbly and took the caged bird away.

Ellery was just smoothing out the ball of Japanese stationery on the writing-desk when a fat little man in a crushed linen suit and carrying a briefcase bustled in, mopping his bald spot.

“I’m Morel,” he announced in a squeak. “Miss Leith’s lawyer. Hello, Inspector. Hello, Miss MacClure. Ah, tragedy. The work of some madman, no doubt. And you – I’ve seen your picture – Mr. Ellery Queen, of course.” He offered a wet hand.

“Yes,” said Ellery. “I think you know everyone, then, but Mr. Ring.”

“Mr. Ring,” said Morel, squinting. “How do.” Terry Ring looked at the wet hand. “Uh – now, Mr. Queen, just what –”

“Have you read this letter?”

“Yesterday. Odd that she didn’t finish it. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she was – I mean, before she could finish –” The lawyer coughed.

“Then who crumpled it?” said Terry Ring disdainfully.

Ellery glanced at him and then read the letter. It was written in a small, almost scientifically precise script, and it was dated Monday afternoon.

“Dear
Morel:

“My records show that I have certain moneys outstanding in Europe in payment for foreign rights. The largest item is in Germany, as you know, chiefly because since the Nazi law went into effect German publishers may not send money out of the country. I want you to
check over the whole list at once, thoroughly and completely
– there’s something due from Spain, Italy, France, and Hungary on book royalties, and a few odd newspaper and serial items from Denmark, Sweden, and so on – and try to
effect immediate payments
. See if you can’t make some sort of reciprocal arrangement between Hardesty and Fertig; I understand a paper exchange of credits has been effected by some authors as between their English agents and German publishers.”

“How is it,” asked Ellery, looking up, “that Miss Leith asks
you
to check up on her foreign royalties, Mr. Morel? Didn’t she have a literary representative?”