Dutch Shoe Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

sure, although as he opened the door of the theater from the West Corridor the surgeons and nurses still worked over the body. One who had lived was dead; and dead of violence. And deaths of violence were commonplace to a writer of mystery stories, an unofficial investigator of crime, and the son of a police Inspector.
    Unhurriedly he approached the nucleus of swirling activity. Janney looked up, frowned. “Have to stay out, Queen.” He turned back to the table, Ellery already forgotten.
    Minchen interposed. “Dr. Janney.”
    “Well?”
    Minchen spoke eagerly. “Queen is practically a member of the Police Department, Doctor. He’s the son of Inspector Queen, and he’s helped solve a lot of murder mysteries. Perhaps he’d—”
    “Oh.” Janney’s smoldering little eyes twisted toward Ellery. “That’s different. Take charge, Queen. Anything you want. I’m busy.”
    Ellery immediately turned to face the gallery. Every one had stood up. Dr. Dunning and his daughter were already hurrying up the steps toward the rear exit
    “Just a moment” His voice rang crystal-clear in the amphitheater. “You will oblige me by remaining in the gallery—every one, please—until the police arrive and give permission to leave.”
    “Preposterous! Police? What for?” Dr. Dunning turned, his face white with strain. The girl placed her hand on his arm.
    Ellery did not raise his voice. “Mrs. Doorn has been murdered, Doctor.” Dr. Dunning, speechless, took his daughter’s arm; they groped their way down to the fore portion of the gallery; no one spoke.
    Ellery turned to Minchen, spoke insistently in a low voice. “Do this at once, John. …”
    “Whatever you say.”
    “See that every door of the Hospital is immediately closed and guarded. Have some one with intelligence discover, if possible, who has left the premises within the past half-hour. Patients, staff—everybody and anybody. That’s important. Telephone my father at Police Headquarters. Get in touch with the local precinct and tell them what’s happened. Understood?”
    Minchen hurried away.
    Ellery stepped forward, stood slightly aside. He watched the smooth efficient movements of the doctors working over the old woman. But, he could see at a glance that there was no hope of restoring life. The founder of the Hospital, millionairess, benefactress of countless charities, social leader, manipulator of fortunes, was beyond human aid.
    He asked quietly of Janney’s lowered head, “Any hope?”
    “None whatever. This is utterly useless. She’s gone—was dead a half-hour ago. Rigor mortis had already set in when she was brought into this room.” Janney’s muffled voice was as impersonal as if he had been discussing a Potter’s Field cadaver.
    “What killed her?”
    Janney straightened; he ripped the gag from his face. He did not reply to Ellery at once. Instead he motioned to his two assistants, shook his head significantly. The doctors removed the pulmotor apparatus in silence. A nurse, stony-faced, lifted the sheet to conceal the aged flesh. …
    Ellery restrained a start when Janney turned to him. The surgeon’s lips were trembling. His face was grey.
    “She’s been—strangled,” he said thickly. “God.”
    He turned away, reached beneath his gown with shaking fingers and brought out a cigarette.
    Ellery bent over the corpse. Around the old woman’s neck was a deep, thin bloody line. On a small table nearby lay a short length of ordinary picture-wire, stained with blood. Without touching it, Ellery examined it and noted that it bent in two places, as if the wire had been tied in a knot.
    Abigail Doorn’s skin was dead-white, with a faint bluish tinge, and peculiarly puffy. The lips were tightly pressed together, the eyes deep-sunken. The body was stiff, unnatural. …
    The corridor-door opened and Minchen reappeared.
    “Everything taken care of, Ellery,” he croaked. “I put James Paradise, our Superintendent, on the job of checking up arrivals