Dutch Shoe Mystery (30 page)

“As for the basted trousers—why were they basted?

“If Janney had planted them, he wouldn’t have had to wear them—as I said, the clothes he was wearing would have served. Then the basting was another plant? For what purpose? To mislead us as to the murderer’s height—to make us think the impostor was two inches shorter than he actually was? But this is sheer nonsense, for the murderer knew he couldn’t mislead as to his height; it had to be part of his plan to be
seen
during the impersonation period, thereby establishing his height in the eyes of witnesses. No, the basting was for the legitimate purpose of shortening the trousers that were too long for the murderer. Beyond a doubt, these trousers were literally on the legs of the murderer during the impersonation.”

Ellery smiled. “I subdivided my possibilities, as before, into complementary classifications; this time into four all-inclusive ones. The impostor could have been: one, a man connected with the Hospital; two, a man not connected with the Hospital; three, a woman not connected with the Hospital; four, a woman connected with the Hospital.

“See how three of these were quickly weeded.

“The impostor couldn’t have been a man connected with the Hospital. Every man so connected by rigid rule had to wear, and did wear at all times on the premises, a white uniform of which white trousers were a necessary part. If a man connected with the Hospital was the impersonator, therefore, he was already wearing white trousers before the crime. Why then should he divest himself of these whites (which fit him), put on the telephone-booth whites (which didn’t fit him), and then proceed to commit the crime? It’s inane. If such a man wanted to impersonate Janney, he would commit the crime wearing his own white trousers, leaving no other trousers to be found. But trousers
were
found, and we’ve shown that they weren’t a plant; that is to say, that they were actually worn by the impersonator. However, if the trousers were actually worn by the impersonator it was only because he was not
already
wearing regulation pants.

“If he were not already wearing regulation pants, the impostor could not have been a man connected with the Hospital.
Quod erat demonstrandum.

“Secundus.
It could not have been a man
not
connected with the Hospital. For by our reasoning from the use of the adhesive we had already eliminated all people
not
connected with the Hospital.

“In this connection, you might say: Well, how about men like Philip Morehouse and Hendrik Doorn, and Cudahy’s thugs? They didn’t wear the hospital uniform.

“The reply to this is: While Morehouse, Doorn and the thugs would have to wear a uniform to impersonate Janney, none of them was well enough acquainted with the Hospital to know exactly where to get the tape. Doorn might have known, to stretch a point; but then his physical make-up was against the possibility—too gross and huge. The impostor seen going into the Anteroom was very near to Janney’s physique—and Janney was a small, slender man. As for Morehouse, there was nothing to indicate that he knew where supplies were kept; and this applies also to Cudahy’s little army. Cudahy himself wasn’t the remotest possibility; he was being anæsthetized while Mrs. Doorn was being strangled. And all the other men in the case with a professional background were eliminated because, as I have shown, it would not have been necessary for them to change trousers—Dunning, Janney, Dr. Minchen, the internes, Cobb, the elevator-men—the whole kit and boodle of ’em wore the regulation white uniform.

“Then it wasn’t a man, either connected or unconnected with the Hospital. Corroboration!

“Women? Let’s see. It couldn’t have been a woman
not
connected with the Hospital because while she would have to wear trousers for the impersonation, since she normally wears skirts, the adhesive reasoning again removes such a person, for by definition such a person is unconnected with the Hospital.

“The only other possibility, then, from this complex system of cross-checks, was that the impostor-murderer was a woman connected with the Hospital. Under this head came Hulda Doorn and Sarah Fuller, who were naturally as familiar with the Hospital as Mrs. Doorn herself; Edith Dunning, who worked there; Dr. Pennini, the woman-obstetrician; and all other females, like nurses and mopwomen, on the premises.

“Can we re-check?

“Yes! A woman connected with the Hospital of the impostor’s approximate size would have needed white trousers for the impersonation and would have been forced to leave them somewhere in order to return to her identity as a female. Being a medium-sized woman she would have had to shorten the long trousers by basting. The small physical size would also account for the tongues being caught in the shoes, since most women’s feet are much smaller and slimmer than men’s, and it was men’s shoes she had to wear. And, finally, a woman connected with the Hospital would instinctively think of adhesive and know where to get it without a moment’s delay.

“Gentlemen, it checked in every particular!”

They looked at each other, each mind probing, analyzing, weighing what it had heard.

The Police Commissioner crossed his legs suddenly. “Go on,” he said. “This is the—the …” He stopped and scratched his blue-stubbled jaw. “I’ll be damned if I can give a name to it. Go on, Mr. Queen.”

Ellery plunged ahead. “The second crime,” he said, staring thoughtfully at the smoldering tip of his cigarette, “was quite a different matter. In attempting to apply the same methods I had used in the first crime, I discovered that success had fled. Whatever I was able to conclude—and it was little enough—led to no specific end.

“In another generalization, it was evident that the two crimes might have been committed by the same criminal or by different ones.

“The first thing I became puzzled about was the unanswerability of the question: if this professionally minded woman I postulated as the murderess of Abigail Doorn had killed Janney also, why did she deliberately duplicate her weapon? That is, why did she kill both by strangling them with the same kind of wire? The murderess was not dull; it would seem to be more to her advantage to use a different weapon in the second crime so that the police would be seeking two murderers. In this way, obscuring the trail. Yet, if she killed both, she
purposely
made no effort to hide the linking of the crimes. Why? I could find no reason.

“On the other hand, if Janney were killed by a different murderer, the duplication of method would indicate that Janney’s murderer was cleverly attempting to make it appear as if Abby’s murderer were also Janney’s murderer. This was a very pointed possibility.

“I kept an open mind on the problem. Either speculation could be true.

“Besides the seemingly deliberate duplication of method, there were other disturbing factors about the second crime, to not one of which was there a plausible explanation.

“Until the time Dr. Minchen told me about his removal of the filing-cabinet from behind Dr. Janney’s desk—before I reached the Hospital that morning—I was absolutely at sea about the second murder.

“But my knowledge of the filing-cabinet’s very existence, and its original location in Janney’s office, altered everything. It was as significant to the explanation of Janney’s death as the shoes and trousers had been to the explanation of Mrs. Doorn’s death.

“Consider the facts. Janney’s dead face was surprisingly placid, showing a natural expression, unmarked by astonishment, fear, horror—any of the unusual signs of violent death. Yet the position of the blow which first stunned him showed that the murderer must have stood
behind
him in order to hit him over the cerebellar region of the head! How did the murderer get behind Janney without arousing his suspicions, or at least his apprehension? There was no window behind Janney’s desk to permit the murderer to hit Janney from the outside while leaning over the window-sill; the absence of a window behind Janney’s desk also removed the possibility of a person standing behind Janney with the excuse of looking outside. There is a window on the north wall, looking out over the inner court, but a person standing here could not possibly have delivered the blow.

“As it was, the desk and chair formed the hypotenuse of a triangle, the converging north and east walls being the other two sides. There was hardly room to squeeze behind the desk, let alone get there without the knowledge of the desk’s occupant. And Janney was sitting at his desk when he was killed—no question about that. He had been writing at his manuscript when he was stunned. The ink had trailed off in the middle of a word. Then his murderer not only got behind Janney but got behind Janney with Janney’s knowledge and consent!”

Ellery grinned. “An appalling situation. I was quite put out. There was
nothing
behind the desk to account for a person’s being there, and being
accepted
as being there. Yet that the murderer had been there without arousing the slightest responsive emotion on Janney’s part was evident.

“There were two conclusions, however: one, Janney knew the murderer well; two, Janney was aware of the murderer’s presence behind him, and accepted this circumstance without either suspicion or fear.

“Now, until I learned that a filing-cabinet had stood behind the desk, I was so stumped that it made me intellectually ill. But when John Minchen told me … For what reason would explain Janney’s acceptance of the murderer and the murderer’s position? The only object in the corner, I now knew, was the filing-cabinet. It followed incontrovertibly that the filing-cabinet accounted for the murderer’s position behind Janney. Logical?”

“Oh, quite!” burst out Dr. Minchen. Sampson glared at him and he subsided a little sheepishly.

“Thanks, John,” said Ellery dryly, “The next step was inevitable. Fortunately for me, the filing-cabinet was not an ordinary one filled with the usual Hospital data. It was a special, privately owned cabinet which housed perhaps Janney’s most precious and personal documentary possession. The records were case-histories pertinent to the book which Janney was writing with Dr. Minchen. It was only too well-known how passionately Janney guarded these case-histories from those whom he considered outsiders. They were kept under lock and key; no one was allowed to see them. No one, that is to say,” interjected Ellery in a stronger voice, and his eyes burned, “but three people.

“The first was Janney himself. Out for obvious reasons.

“The second was Dr. Minchen, Janney’s co-worker. But Minchen couldn’t have killed Janney because he was not in the Hospital at the time of the murder. He had been with me for part of that morning, and just a few moments before the murder—far too short a time to get to the Hospital and kill his collaborator—he had been with me on Broadway, near 86th Street, talking.

“But was that all?” Ellery took off his
pince-nez
and began to scrub its lenses. “Not by a long shot, it wasn’t. Even before the murder of Mrs. Doorn I knew that there was some one besides Janney and Minchen who could visit that cabinet with impunity. That some one was not only Dr. Janney’s secretarial assistant and clerical helper on Hospital matters and in his literary activities, she was also a rightful occupant of Janney’s office, having a desk there. Helping Janney continuously on the manuscript, she inevitably had access to that precious file behind Janney. Her, presence in that corner, where she undoubtedly came many times during the day, even while Janney was at work, was normal and taken for granted by Janney! … I am referring, of course, to my third possibility, Lucille Price.”

“Good work,” said Sampson in a surprised voice. The Inspector was regarding Ellery with affection.

“It fitted beautifully!” cried Ellery. “No other person in the Hospital, or outside the Hospital for that matter, could have got behind Dr. Janney under those peculiar circumstances without arousing some expression of suspicion, fear or anger. Janney was unusually jealous of those records, had refused on many occasions to let any one touch them. Dr. Minchen and Lucille Price were the exceptions. Minchen was eliminated. Then Lucille Price was left!”

Ellery agitated his
pince-nez.
“Conclusion: She was the only possible murderer of Dr. Janney.

“Lucille Price. … I chewed that name in my mind with a sudden inspiration. Why, what are Lucille Price’s characteristics? She is a woman, she is professionally connected with the Dutch Memorial Hospital!

“BUT THIS IS EXACTLY THE SORT OF PERSON WHOM I WAS SEEKING AS THE MURDERESS OF ABIGAIL DOORN!
Was it conceivable that this innocent-looking and efficient nurse was also the murderess of Mrs. Doorn?”

Ellery gulped down a mouthful of water. The room was still as death.

“From that moment the entire story was spread before my eyes. I asked for a map of the main floor, and sought to retrace the route by which she might possibly have engineered that daring crime in such a way that she was apparently her own self as a nurse, and the impostor of Dr. Janney at the same time.

“By study and careful piecing together of old elements I was able to work out a time-schedule such as Lucille Price must have used to accomplish this seeming miracle. Let me read it to you.”

Ellery dug into his breast-pocket and took out a tattered notebook. Harper became unusually busy with a pencil and a scrap of paper. Ellery read rapidly:

“10:29—The real Dr. Janney called away.

“10:30—Lucille Price opens door from Anteroom, slips into Anteroom lift, closes door, fastens East Corridor door to prevent interruptions, dons shoes, white duck trousers, gown, cap and gag previously planted there or somewhere in the Anteroom, leaves her own shoes in elevator, her own clothes being covered by the new. Slips into East Corridor via lift door, turns corner into South Corridor, goes along South Corridor until she reaches Anæsthesia Room. Limping all the time, in imitation of Janney, with gag concealing her features and cap her hair, she passes rapidly through the Anæsthesia Room, being seen by Dr. Byers, Miss Obermann and Cudahy, and enters Anteroom, closing door behind her.

“10:34—Approaches comatose Mrs. Doorn, strangles her with wire concealed under her clothes; calls out in her own voice at appropriate time, ‘I’ll be out in a moment, Dr. Janney!’ or words to that effect. (Of course, she did not go into the Sterilizing Room as she claimed in her testimony.) When Dr. Gold stuck his head into the Anteroom he saw Miss Price in surgical robes bending over the body, her back to him. Naturally Gold did not see a nurse; there was none, as such, there.