Double, Double

Friday, April 21

Ellery’s department began functioning the next morning. He walked over to Algonquin Avenue shortly after 11. Harry Toyfell was manuring the lawn. The man did not look up.

“Morning. Doc Dodd in?”

“Don’t ye see his car over there?” Toyfell straightened, resting the heavy bag on his hip. “Long as you’re here...” he said slowly. “Find out anything about Tom Anderson?”

“Nothing conclusive, Toyfell. I don’t suppose you’ve run across anything?”

But the man was back at his manure scattering.

Ellery found Rima and Dr. Winship with their heads together over a stack of case cards. Through the doorway of Dr. Dodd’s office he could see Dodd getting into his white office coat. Ellery thought Rima and young Winship jumped up rather too quickly; there was a slight flush on Winship’s face.

“Rima said you were back,” he said, shaking hands. “She’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed her, Dr. Winship. But then I probably haven’t been as busy as you people. Hello, Dr. Dodd.”

The burly man had come in with his surprising stride. He was looking wretched. The twitches were continuous and his jowls had a steady underswell. But he sounded genial.

“Busy. We can barely keep supplied with diphtheria toxoid. Giving Schick inoculations all over the place and not getting too much sleep, I’m afraid. This little girl has been just fine, Mr. Queen. Wonderful help to Kenneth and me.”

Rima went scarlet and disappeared in Dr. Winship’s office with some cards.

“I was kind of surprised when Rima said you’d gone back to New York, Mr. Queen. Thought you’d given up.”

“No,” said Ellery, and he primed his big gun. “It’s hotels, Dr. Dodd.”

“Hotels?”

“Can’t stand ’em longer than a night or two. Anything beyond that is insomniac torture. I’m not as lucky this time as I’ve been. On most of my visits to Wrightsville I’ve been able to avoid staying in a hotel — generally managed to bed down with some private family. But I haven’t seen Hermy Wright or the Foxes for years, and of course the Van Horns...”

He saw at once that he had misfired. Dr. Dodd’s tormented eyes blinked rapidly and he said, “Oh. That’s too bad,” in a vague way and immediately went on to ask, “Then you haven’t got very far in your investigation of Tom Anderson’s disappearance?”

“Haven’t got anywhere. Well, Doctor, I won’t take any more of your time—”

“No, no, Mr. Queen. Does me good to see a foreigner once in a while—”

“Seeing that he’s so crazy about your company, Mr. Queen,” grinned Dr. Winship, “maybe you can talk him into knocking off for a couple of days. Doc, why don’t you run up to Lake Pharisee?”

“This early in the year? Rot, Kenneth.”

“What’s at Lake Pharisee?” asked Ellery, as if he didn’t know.

“It’s north of Quetonokis Lake, Mr. Queen — high up in the Mahoganies,” said Dr. Dodd. “Summerin’ place. Lots of us have summer cabins up there. If it was the fishing season...”

“You could open the cabin, Doc,” argued Dr. Winship. “Get her ready.”

“No, Kenneth—”

“Must be beautiful up there this time of year,” said Ellery. “Especially having the whole place to yourself... Couldn’t you get away, Dr. Dodd? I’d like to invite myself to a day’s work with an ax.”

“Would be sort of a change,” muttered the doctor. “But I don’t see how... the hospital, clinic, my patients...”

“For a couple of days?” cried his young associate. “Who do you think you are, God? If necessary, I’ll get Walter Flacker to pitch in — he’s mildewing up in that rarefied Hill office of his, anyway. I’m not worried about your patients, Doc. Suppose you dropped dead from overwork? What good would you be to them then?”

It seemed to Ellery that Dr. Dodd’s vital machinery sputtered and stopped. For just a moment.

It was curious how yellow he got and how quickly he took hold of himself.

But perspiration stippled his bald skull and Ellery knew he would have at least one day in which to make a proper study of Dr. Sebastian Dodd.