Calamity Town (13 page)

‘A woman named Rosemary Haight died here tonight.' Ellery shrugged. ‘The only
fact
I can supply. Not much help, I'm afraid, considering that the body's lying right here.'

‘Poisoned, Doc Willoughby says,' said Dakin politely. ‘That's another fact.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Ellery with humility. And tried to become invisible as Dr Willoughby sent him a thick-browed question. Watch yourself. Doc Willoughby is remembering that little bottle of ferric hydroxid you whipped out when Nora Haight required an antidote against arsenic poisoning and even minutes were precious…Will the good doctor tell the good policeman the strange fact that a stranger to the house and the people and the case carried so strange a preparation as ferric hydroxid about with him when, strangely, one woman died and another was made seriously ill by the poison for which it was the official antidote? Dr Willoughby turned away. He suspects I know something involving the Wright family, thought Ellery. He's an old friend. He brought the three girls into the world…He's uneasy. Shall I make him still uneasier by confiding that I purchased the drug because I promised Patty Wright her sister Nora wouldn't die? Mr Queen sighed. It was getting complicated.

‘The family,' said Chief Dakin. ‘Where they at?'

‘Upstairs,' said Bradford. ‘Mrs Wright insists that Nora—Mrs Haight—be moved over to the Wright house.'

‘This is no place for her, Dakin,' said Dr Willoughby. ‘Nora's pretty sick. She'll need plenty of care.'

‘It's all right with me,' said the Chief. ‘If it's all right with the Prosecutor.'

Bradford nodded hastily and bit his lip. ‘Don't you want to question them?'

‘Well, now,' said the Chief slowly, ‘I can't see the sense of making the Wrights feel Worse'n they feel already. At least right now. So if you've got no objection, Cart, let's call it a night.'

Carter said stiffly: ‘None at all.'

‘Then we'll have a get-together right here in this room in the mornin',' said Dakin. ‘You tell the Wrights, Cart. Sort of keep it unofficial.'

‘Are you remaining here?'

‘For a spell,' drawled Dakin. ‘Got to call in somebody to haul this
corpus
out of here. Figure I'll phone old man Duncan's parlors.'

‘No
morgue?
' asked Mr Queen, despite himself.

The Dakin eyes made another inspection. ‘Well, no, Mr Smith…Okay for you, Mr Lloyd. Go easy on these folks in your paper, hey? This'll raise plenty of hallelujah as it is, I guess…No, sir, Mr Smith. Got to use a reg'lar undertaking parlor. You see,' and the Chief sighed, ‘ain't never had a homicide in Wrightsville before, and I been Chief here for pretty near twenty years. Doc, would you be so kind? Coronor Salemson's up in Piny Woods on a New Year vacation.'

‘I'll do the autopsy,' said Dr. Willoughby shortly. He went out without saying goodnight.

Mr Queen rose. Carter Bradford walked across the room, stopped, looked back. Jim Haight was still sitting in the chair. Bradford said in an angry voice: ‘What are you sitting here for, Haight?'

Jim looked up slowly. ‘What?'

‘You can't sit here all night! Aren't you even going up to your wife?'

‘They won't let me,' said Jim. He laughed, and took out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. ‘They won't let me.' He leaped from the chair and dashed upstairs. They heard the slam of a door—he had gone into his study.

‘See you in the morning, gents,' said Chief Dakin, blinking at Ellery.

They left the Chief in the untidy living room, alone with Rosemary haight's body. Mr Queen would like to have stayed, but there was something in Chief Dakin's eyes that discouraged company.

* * *

Ellery did not see Patricia Wright until they all gathered in the same untidy room at ten o'clock on the morning of New Year's Day…all except Nora, who was in her old bed in the other house, guarded by Ludie behind the closed vanes of the Venetian blinds. Dr Willoughby had already seen her this morning, and he forbade her leaving the room or even setting foot out of bed. ‘You're a sick biddy, Nora,' he had said to her sternly. ‘ludie, remember.'

‘She'll have to fight me,' said old Ludie.

‘But Where's Mother? Where's Jim?' moaned Nora, tossing on the bed.

‘We've got to…go out for a few minutes, Nora,' said Pat. ‘Jim's all right—'

‘Something's happened to Jim, too!'

‘Don't be a worry-wart,' said Pat crossly, fleeing.

Ellery waylaid her on Nora's porch. ‘Before we go in,' he said quickly, ‘I want to explain—'

‘I don't blame you, Ellery' Pat was almost as sick-looking as Nora. ‘It might have been worse. It might have been…Nora. It almost was.' She shivered.

‘I'm sorry about Rosemary,' said Ellery.

Pat looked at him blankly. Then she went inside. Ellery lingered on the porch. It was a gray day, like Rosemary Haight's face: a gray day and a cold day, a day for corpses…Someone was missing—Frank Lloyd. Emmy DuPré chittered by, stopped, studied Chief Dakin's car at the curb, frowned…walked on slowly, craning at the two houses. A car drove up. Frank Lloyd jumped out. Then Lola Wright. They ran up the walk together. ‘Nora! Is she all right?' gasped Lola. Ellery nodded. Lola dashed inside.

‘I picked Lola up,' said Lloyd. He was breathing heavily, too. ‘She was walking up the Hill.'

‘They're waiting for you, Lloyd.'

‘I thought,' said the publisher, ‘you might think it funny.' There was a damp copy of the
Wrightsville Record
in his overcoat pocket.

‘I think nothing funny on mornings like this. Did Lola know?' They walked into the house.

‘No. She was just taking a walk, she said. Nobody knows yet.'

‘They will,' said Ellery dryly, ‘when your paper hits the streets.'

‘You're a damn snoop,' growled Lloyd, ‘but I like you. Take my advice and hop the first train out.'

‘I like it here,' smiled Ellery. ‘Why?'

‘Because this is a dangerous town.'

‘How so?'

‘You'll see when the news gets around. Everybody who was at the party last night will be smeared.'

‘There's always,' remarked Mr Queen, ‘the cleansing property of a clear conscience.'

‘That makes you apple pie.' Lloyd shook his heavy shoulders. ‘I don't figure you.'

‘Why bother? For that matter, you're not a simple sum in arithmetic yourself.'

‘You'll hear plenty about me.'

‘I already have.'

‘I don't know,' said the newspaper publisher savagely, ‘why I stand here in the foyer gassing with a nitwit!' He shook the floor striding into the living room.

‘The poison,' said Dr Willoughby, ‘is arsenic trioxid, or arsenious oxid, as you prefer. “White” arsenic.'

They were sitting in a rough circle, like unbelievers at a séance. Chief Dakin stood at the fireplace, tapping his false teeth with a rolled paper. ‘Go ahead, Doc,' said Dakin. ‘What else did you find? That part's right. We checked in our own lab during the night.'

‘It's used in medicine mostly as an alternative or tonic,' said the doctor tonelessly. ‘We never prescribe a bigger therapeutic dose than a tenth of a grain. There's no way of telling from the dregs of the cocktail, of course—at least with accuracy—but judging from the speed with which the poison acted, I'd estimate there were three or four grams in that glass.'

‘Prescribe any of that stuff recently for…anyone you know, Doc?' muttered Carter Bradford.

‘No.'

‘We've established a bit more,' said Chief Dakin soberly, looking around. ‘Most probably it was plain ordinary rat poison. And moreover, no trace of the poison was found anywheres except in that one cocktail which Mrs Haight and her sister-in-law drank—not in the mixing glass, nor the rye whisky, nor the vermouth, nor the bottle of cherries, nor any of the other glassware.'

Mr Queen surrendered. ‘Whose fingerprints did you find on the poisoned cocktail glass, Chief Dakin?'

‘Mrs Haight's. Rosemary Haight's. Jim Haight's. No others.' Ellery could see them translate silently. Nora's…Rosemary's…Jim's…no others. His own thoughts were admiring. Chief Dakin had not remained idle after they left him last night. He had taken the fingerprints of the corpse. He had found some object unmistakably Nora Haight's, probably in her bedroom, and had taken
her
fingerprints. Jim Haight had been in the house all night, but Ellery was willing to make a large bet that Jim had not been disturbed, either. There were plenty of
his
things in the house, too…Very pretty. Very considerate. It disturbed Mr Queen powerfully—the prettiness and considerateness of Chief Dakin's methods. He glanced over at Pat. She was watching Dakin as if the Chief had hypnotized her. ‘And what did your autopsy show, Doc?' asked Dakin deferentially.

‘Miss Haight died of arsenic trioxid poisoning.'

‘Yes, sir. Now let's get this organized,' said Dakin. ‘If you folks don't mind?'

‘Go ahead, Dakin,' said John F. impatiently.

‘Yes, Mr Wright. So we know the two ladies were poisoned by that one cocktail. Now, who mixed it?' No one said anything. ‘Well, I already know. It was you, Mr Haight. You mixed that cocktail.'

Jim Haight had not shaved. There were muddy ruts under his eyes. ‘Did I?' There was a frog in his throat; he cleared it several times. ‘If you say so—I mixed so many—'

‘And who came in from the kitchen and handed out the tray of drinks?' asked Chief Dakin. ‘Including the one that was poisoned? You did, Mr Haight. Am I wrong? Because that's my information,' he said apologetically.

‘If you're trying to insinuate—' began Hermione in an imperious voice.

‘All right, Mrs Wright,' said the Chief. ‘Now maybe I'm wrong. But you mixed that cocktail, Mr Haight, you handed it out, so it looks like you're the only one could have dosed it up good with rat-killer. But it only looks that way.
Were
you the only one? Did you leave those cocktails you were making even for a few seconds any time up to the time you brought the tray into this room last night?'

‘Look,' said Jim. ‘Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe the things that happened last night knocked my brains for a loop. What is this? Am I suspected of having tried to poison my wife?'

As if this had been a fresh wind in a stale room, the air became breathable again. John F.'s hand dropped from his eyes, Hermy's color came back, and even Pat looked at Jim.

‘This
is
nonsense, Chief Dakin!' said Hermy coldly.

‘Did you, Mr Haight?' asked Dakin.

‘Of course I brought that tray in here!' Jim got up and began to walk up and down before the Chief, like an orator. ‘I'd just mixed the Manhattans—that last batch—and was going to put the maraschino cherries in, but then I had to leave the pantry for a few minutes. That's it!'

‘Well, now,' said Dakin heartily. ‘
Now
we're getting places, Mr Haight. Could someone have slipped in from the living room and poisoned one of them cocktails without you knowing or seeing? While you were gone, I mean?'

The fresh wind died, and they were in choking miasma once more.
Could someone have slipped in from the living room
—

‘I didn't poison that cocktail,' said Jim, ‘so somebody
must
have slipped in.'

Dakin turned swiftly. ‘Who left the living room while Mr Haight was mixing that last mess of drinks in the kitchen? This is very important, please. Think hard on it!' Ellery lit a cigarette. Someone must have noticed that he had been missing simultaneously with Jim. It was inevitable…But then they all began to chatter at once, and Ellery blew smoke in great clouds. ‘We'll never get anywheres this way,' said the Chief. ‘So much drinking and dancing going on, and the room dark on account of only candles being lit…Not,' added Dakin suddenly, ‘that it makes much difference.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Pat quickly.

‘I mean that ain't the important point, Miss Wright.' And this time Dakin's voice was quite, quite chill. Its chill deepened the chill in the room. ‘The important point is: Who had control of the
distribution
of the drinks? Answer me that! Because the one who handed that cocktail out—that's
got
to be the one who poisoned it!'

Bravo, bumpkin, thought Mr Queen. You're wasting your smartness on the desert air…You don't know what I know, but you've hit the essential point just the same. You ought to capitalize your talents…

‘
You
handed 'em out, James Haight,' said Chief Dakin. ‘No poisoner'd have dropped rat-killer in one of those drinks and left it to Almighty God to decide who'd pick up that poisoned one! No, sir. It don't make sense.
Your wife got that poisoned cocktail, and you was the one handed it to her. Wasn't you?
'

And now they were all breathing heavily like swimmers in a surf, and Jim's eyes were red liquid holes. ‘Yes, I did hand it to her!' he yelled. ‘Does that satisfy your damn snooping disposition?'

‘A-plenty,' said the Chief mildly. ‘Only thing is, Mr Haight, you didn't know one thing. You went out of the living room to make more drinks, or fetch another bottle, or something. You didn't know your sister Rosemary was going to yell for another drink, and you didn't know that your wife, who you figured would drink the whole glassful, would just take a couple of sips and then your sister would pull the glass out of her hand and guzzle the rest down. So instead of killing your wife, you killed your sister!'

Jim said hoarsely: ‘Of course you can't believe I planned or did anything like that, Dakin.'

Dakin shrugged. ‘Mr Haight, I only know what my good horse sense tells me. The facts say you, and only you, had the—what do they call it?—the opportunity. So maybe you won't have what they call motive—
I
dunno. Do you?'