The Dragon’s Teeth Read Online Free PDF Page A

scampering along a cold spoor.
    Beginning with a clue twenty-one years old—the knowledge that Monica Cole Shawn’s husband had died in a Chicago hospital—Beau followed a trail that led to a Chicago tenement, then to a secretarial school, where, apparently, the young widow had enrolled to learn a practical means of sustaining her life and her daughter’s when Cadmus Cole refused financial assistance.
    St. Louis, Minneapolis, New York—cheap rooming houses, small apartments, a draughty theatrical hotel, a dancing and “dramatic” school for children. Eagerly Beau haunted Broadway. Finally, in the curling files of a theatrical agency, he unearthed an old photograph of a beautiful girl-child named Kerrie Shawn. But then he lost the trail.
    During his New York investigation Beau learned from Lloyd Goossens that the Surrogate had been satisfied with the proofs of Cadmus Cole’s testamentary signature. There were plentiful examples of Cole’s handwriting for comparison purposes—on checks, on legal documents, on records in foreign and American banks dating back almost twenty years. Captain Angus’s signature was likewise authenticated through the Argonaut’s log (in which. Mr. Rummell was interested to learn, the details of Cole’s last illness and death were meticulously recorded, agreeing to the letter with the verbal account given by De Carlos).
    â€œAlmost ready,” Goossens told Beau. “Assets, for the size of the estate, are in a very fluid condition. The fourth citation is to be published in a few days, Queen—so where do you stand with the hunt for those two girls?”
    Beau dug in again. He found a new clue which led westward. But in Cincinnati he came up against a dead end.
    â€œI can’t understand why this femme Kerrie Shawn hasn’t answered the personals I’ve published,” Beau complained to Ellery over the long-distance telephone. “Unless she’s left the United States, or is dead. As far as that’s concerned, there’s been enough newspaper publicity to call her back from Africa, or from the dead.”
    Mr. Queen pondered. “There’s a clear record that Monica Shawn was giving her child dancing and dramatic lessons, isn’t there? So, working from the professional angle—”
    â€œListen, Big Brain,” snarled Beau, “I’ve badgered agents and managers in New York so much they’re threatening to have me pinched if I so much as show my pan again. That theatrical lead is strictly from hunger, I tell you!”
    â€œWhere,” inquired Mr. Queen mildly, “does every aspiring American mama with a beautiful child of real or fancied talent eventually, and inevitably, wind up?”
    â€œAm I a dope!” roared Beau. “Goodbye!”
    Ten days later Ellery received a wire from Hollywood:
    â€œ HAVE FOUND KERRIE WOO WOO EXCLAMATION POINT BEAU ”

III. Mr. Santa Claus
    At the central casting Bureau in Hollywood Beau had found no Shawns, but three Kerries. He examined their portraits. Kerrie Acres was a Negro. Kerrie St. Alban was an aged character actress. Kerrie Land was a young girl.
    Her face was nice. Light-colored eyes looked straight at him; they fizzed, like champagne. A chin-cleft, a turned-up nose, soft dark rolls of hair … nice, nice.
    Beau compared Kerrie Land’s face with the photograph in his possession of Kerrie Shawn as a child. There was an unmistakable resemblance. But he had to be sure.
    He wormed an Argyle Avenue address and telephone number out of a Bureau attendant and called the number.
    A woman answered. He identified himself in a raspy voice as “Central Casting” and asked for Kerrie Land. The woman said Kerrie Land had been on location somewhere for two months, and how come? She was expected back within a few days. She slammed the receiver.
    Beau returned to his hotel, looked himself over, decided his clothes were shabby enough to