The Khalkis case began with a sombre tone.It uses the death of an old man as an introduction, which is very appropriate in view of the following.The old man's death, like the counterpoint music, is closely linked with the intricate rhythm of the ensuing funeral march, which obviously lacks the sad melody of mourning the death and mourning the dead.The orchestra blares a sinister forte at the end, and the dirge still rings in the ears of New Yorkers long after its last, ominous note has died away.
Needless to say, when George Khalkis died of heart failure, no one, least of all Ellery Queen, thought it was the overture to a murder symphony.It might even be inferred that Ellery Queen knew that George Khalkis had died three days after the old blind man had been interred in the most normal manner in the place everyone took for granted as his final resting place, It was only then that the incident caught his attention.
When the papers first reported Khalkis' death—Ellery, a casual reader of newspapers, hadn't read the obituary—never realized that the location of the dead man's grave had much to do with it.There is only a neat miscellaneous note on it in the old New York Magazine.Khalkis's decaying brownstone at 11 East Fifty-fourth Street adjoins an ancient church with a front door on Fifth Avenue, which borders Half of the land between Madison Avenues is occupied by the church, which borders Fifty-fifth Street to the north and Fifty-fourth Street to the south.Between the Khalkis home and the main building of the church is the church cemetery, one of the oldest private cemeteries in the city.It is this cemetery where the remains of the deceased are buried.The Khalkis family, parishioners of the church for almost two hundred years, were exempt from the sanitation laws prohibiting burials in the city centre.Their right to rest in the shadows of the Fifth Avenue skyscrapers is due to their historical possession of an underground ossuary in the churchyard—an ossuary hidden from passers-by because the entrance to the tomb is completely open. Three feet above the ground, there is not a single trace of stele on the turf of the churchyard.
The funeral was quiet, without tears and unassuming.The corpse was smeared with embalming oil, put on an evening gown, put into a large black and shiny coffin, and placed it on the bier in the living room on the first floor of Khajiz's house.The funeral was officiated by the Reverend John Henry Ada of the church next door - and it is worth noting that the Reverend Ada's sermons, and indeed some swear words, were always prominently displayed in the Archdiocese newspapers. The location is published.There is no dramatic scene, no hysteria, except a characteristic swoon performed by Mrs. Simms, the housekeeper of the deceased, who goes all out.
Yet, Joan Bright later recounted, something was always amiss.We might think that this is due to a higher quality of female intuition, which medical people tend to describe as pure nonsense.In any case, she straightened her face and described the "tension in the atmosphere" at the time in a strangely British tone.Who caused the tension, which person or persons were responsible for it—if there was one at all—she could not say, and probably would not.On the contrary, everything seems to be very logical, with just the right kindness and unburdened sadness.For example, after the simple ceremony was over, the family members, as well as the scattered friends and servants present, all lined up to walk past the coffin, paid their respects to the remains for the last time, and then returned to their original positions in a reserved and solemn manner.The haggard Tefina wept, but she wept gracefully—a tear, wiped away, and sighed.Demetrio, whom everyone called Demetrius, stared fixedly, as if attracted by the flat, indifferent face of his cousin in the coffin.
Gilbert Sloan patted his wife's fat hand.Alan Cheney blushed slightly, put his hands in the pockets of his coat, and glared at the sky.Nacio Suyza, curator of the Khalkis Art Gallery, in meticulous funeral attire, stands listlessly in a corner.Wu Zhuofu, the legal agent of the deceased, sighed in his nose.Everything is so natural and impeccable.So the morose but businesslike undertaker named Stuarts disposed of the body and fastened the lid on the coffin.There was nothing left but the tedious routine of organizing the last circumambulation.Allen, Demmie, Sloane, and Suyza lined up on both sides of the coffin, and when the clichéd toss and turns calmed down, they carried the coffin on their shoulders, and the undertaker, Stuart, took care of it with all his attention. , Pastor Ada murmured a prayer, and then the group walked out of the house steadily.
Ellery Quinn later affirmed that Joan Bright was a very attentive young lady.If she feels "there's tension in the atmosphere," then there is tension in the atmosphere.But where—from where?It's hard to pinpoint—one particular person.Perhaps it was from the bearded Dr. Woz, who was at the end of the line with Mrs. Freeland.Maybe it was from those who carried the coffin, or from the one who followed them with Joan.It may in fact have come from the house itself, from the simple circumstance of Mrs. Simms wailing in her bed, or Wegsch the valet rubbing his chin stupidly in the dead man's study. produced.
This certainly did not pose a hindrance to the funeral procession.Instead of walking up Fifty-fourth Street through the front door, the group walked into the long back yard through the back door, which was surrounded by six families from Fifty-fourth Street and Fifty-fifth Street, and became the home of the six families. dedicated alley.A group of people turned left, passed through the door on the right side of the backyard, and arrived at the cemetery.Passers-by, and onlookers drawn like flies to Fifty-fourth Street, might feel duped, and had chosen the unpublic road to the cemetery only to deceive them.Everyone clings to the fence with spikes on the top, and looks through the iron railing to the small cemetery; there are journalists and photographers among the crowd, and everyone is surprisingly quiet.
Actors in tragedies pay no mind to the audience.The party crossed the bare turf to join another small party, which surrounded a rectangle of lawn--Stewers' assistant--and sexton Hennywell; and a little old woman , wearing a curious black millinery out of date, was wiping her clear, inflamed eyes.
If we're to trust Joan Bright's intuition, the tension is still there.
However, everything that followed was as impeccable as everything before.The same old rules, the old ceremonies; a gravedigger leaning forward, clutching the handle of an old rusted iron door set flat in the earth; In the tomb of the ossuary; the workers turned, uttering a few low and rapid sounds, the coffin moved slowly to one side, and was also out of sight, it had entered one of the many niches in the underground ossuary, the iron gate clanged The ground is closed and covered with dirt and turf...
Somehow, Joan Bright later spoke with certainty about her impressions of the time, saying that the tension in the atmosphere had somehow disappeared.
