The Golden Goose

The Golden Goose Read Online Free PDF

Book: The Golden Goose Read Online Free PDF
Author: Ellery Queen
deal more of Uncle Slater’s death than needed to be made of it. It was her private opinion that Horace Appleton was the kind of doctor who might miss a case of leprosy in a routine check, let alone a leaky valve or a thrombus or something like that. There was nothing to be gained by saying this, however, so she silently went downstairs with him. The family was in conclave, whispering. It immediately became a public hearing as the doughty old physician stalked into the living room.
    Little do they know, Prin thought.
    â€œDr. Appleton,” Aunt Lallie said, addressing a point three feet above his head, “have you examined my brother Slater?”
    â€œI have,” said Dr. Appleton.
    â€œWhat is your professional opinion?”
    â€œMy professional opinion is that he’s dead.”
    â€œOh, dear,” said Aunt Lallie, as if this was what she had been afraid of all along.
    â€œDid Uncle Slater just die?” asked Peet. “Or did he die of something?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Dr. Appleton, adding grimly, “yet.”
    â€œWhat do you mean you don’t know?” demanded Twig. “Are you a doctor or aren’t you?”
    â€œI sometimes wonder.”
    â€œWhat the doctor means,” explained Prin, “is that he won’t be able to tell until there’s an autopsy, so he’s going to call the police.”
    â€œPolice!” Brother Brady whirled from the bar as if he already felt the first surge of high voltage. “What do you want to do that for?”
    â€œSo he’ll get his name in the papers,” said Twig.
    â€œMaybe me, too,” said his sister, clapping her hands.
    â€œPeet, stop,” said Aunt Lallie. “Doctor, I insist on knowing this very instant what you have in your mind!”
    â€œIt’s not so much what I have in my mind,” said the doctor, looking almost as if he were beginning to enjoy himself, “as to what your brother may have in his belly.”
    â€œHis belly,” said Brother Brady.
    â€œHis belly?” said Cousin Twig.
    â€œHis … belly?” echoed Aunt Lallie faintly.
    â€œPlease,” said Peet. “Must you use such words?”
    â€œDoctor,” said Prin, looking sick. “Do you mean that Uncle Slater might have died of—of being given something?”
    â€œMight have,” said Dr. Appleton, looking around as if inviting more questions. “Just might have.”
    â€œRidiculous,” said Brady. He groped for his drink.
    â€œStupid,” said Twig. “The only thing you’ll find in his belly is bourbon or Irish whisky, or more likely both.”
    â€œWill somebody please tell me what an autopsy is?” asked Peet. “I don’t think I really know.”
    â€œAn autopsy,” said Brady, swallowing, “is when they cut somebody open and poke around to see what’s in there.”
    â€œThey only do it to dead people,” said Twig, sounding as if he would have felt far happier with a more liberal policy on the part of the authorities.
    â€œHow perfectly icky,” said Peet. “I’m against doing a thing like that to Uncle Slater.”
    â€œI’m against it, too,” said Brady quickly. “You, Twig?”
    Twig turned a splayed thumb down.
    â€œWell, so am I,” said Aunt Lallie sharply. “As Slater’s next of kin, I definitely will not permit it.”
    â€œMadam,” said little Dr. Appleton, “and ladies and gentlemen, I’m for it; and in this case, I think, none of you will have a damned thing to say about it.”
    With which he went out into the hall to the phone. They heard him dial, and then talk, presumably to a policeman. Peet had just said that she didn’t believe she liked Dr. Appleton very much, to which Brady had muttered that he didn’t like Dr. Appleton at all, when the doorbell rang. Everyone looked at Prin. So she went out past Dr. Appleton
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