The Origin of Evil Read Online Free PDF Page A

Queen.’
    â€˜Mrs. Priam, does it concern Miss Hill’s father’s death?’
    â€˜I don’t know. It may.’
    â€˜Then Miss Hill won’t mind your sitting in. I repeat my invitation.’
    She had a trick of moving slowly, as if she were pushing against something. As he brought the chartreuse chair around he watched her obliquely. When she sat down she was close enough so that he could have touched her bare back with a very slight movement of his finger. He almost moved it.
    She did not seem to have taken him in at all. And yet she had looked him over; up and down, as if he had been a gown in a dress shop. Perhaps he didn’t interest her. As a gown, that is.
    â€˜Drink, Mrs. Priam?’
    â€˜Delia doesn’t drink,’ said Laurel in the same warm, friendly voice. Two jets spurted from her nostrils.
    â€˜Thank you, darling. It goes to my head, Mr. Queen.’
    And you wouldn’t let anything go to your head, wherefore it stands to reason, thought Ellery, that one way to get at you is to pour a few extra-dry Martinis down that red gullet … He was surprised at himself. A married woman, obviously a lady, and her husband was a cripple. But that wading walk was something to see.
    â€˜Laurel was about to leave. The facts interest me, but I’m in Hollywood to do a book …’
    The shirring of her blouse rose and fell. He moved off to the picture window, making her turn her head.
    â€˜If, however, you have something to contribute, Mrs. Priam …’
    He suspected there would be no book for some time.
    Delia Priam’s story penetrated imperfectly. Ellery found it hard to concentrate. He tended to lose himself in details. The curves of her blouse. The promise of her skirt, which moulded her strongly below the waist. Her large, shapely hands rested precisely in the middle of her lap, like compass points. ‘Mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs …’ Right out of Browning’s Renaissance. She would have brought joy to the dying Bishop of Saint Praxed’s.
    â€˜Mr. Queen?’
    Ellery said guiltily, ‘You mean, Mrs. Priam, the same day Leander Hill received the dead dog?’
    â€˜The same morning. It was a sort of gift. I don’t know what else you’d call it.’
    Laurel’s cigarette hung in the air. ‘Delia, you didn’t tell me Roger had got something, too!’
    â€˜He told me not to say anything, Laurel. But you’ve forced my hand, dear. Kicking up such a fuss about that poor dog. First the police, now Mr. Queen.’
    â€˜Then you did follow me.’
    â€˜I didn’t have to.’ The woman smiled. ‘I saw you looking at Mr. Queen’s photo in the paper.’
    â€˜Delia, you’re wonderful.’
    â€˜Thank you, darling.’ She sat peaceful as a lady tiger, smiling over secrets … Here, Brother Q!
    â€˜Oh. Oh, yes, Mrs. Priam. Mr. Priam’s been frightened —’
    â€˜Ever since the day he got the box. He won’t admit it, but when a man keeps roaring that he won’t be intimidated it’s pretty clear that he is. He’s broken things, too, some of his own things. That’s not like Roger. Usually they’re mine.’
    Delightful. What a pity.
    â€˜What was in the box, Mrs. Priam?’
    â€˜I haven’t any idea.’
    â€˜A dead dog,’ said Laurel. ‘Another dead dog!’ Laurel looked something like a little dog herself, nose up, testing the air. It was remarkable how meaningless she was across from Delia Priam. As sexless as a child.
    â€˜It would have to have been an awfully small one, Laurel. The box wasn’t more than a foot square, of cardboard.’
    â€˜Unmarked?’ asked Ellery.
    â€˜Yes. But there was a shipping tag attached to the string that was tied around the box. “Roger Priam” was printed on it in crayon.’ The beautiful woman paused. ‘Mr. Queen, are you