Chapter 13 Chapter 12 Facts

That night, a dinner at Quinn's house was filled with gloom.The third-floor apartment in a brownstone on West Eighty-seventh Street was relatively new then, with a grander foyer and a less dated living room than it is now; as for Quinn The handyman at home, Dijuna, was very young then, so he was not as reserved as he was in later years.This apartment can be called comfortable, comfortable and bright.But no; the policeman's Weltschmerz enveloped the room as if at a funeral; he took snuff like hell; Giving orders and walking back and forth from the living room to the bedroom, fidgeting.The old man's temper was not lessened by the arrival of guests; Ellery had invited them to dinner, but Pepper's preoccupied face and Prosecutor Simpson's suspicious look could not change the whole place. Son's bleak mood.

Without making a sound, Di Juna brought out one after another of delicacies; these delicious dishes were also accepted into the spleen and stomach without making a sound.Of the four, only Ellery was serene.As always, he ate with gusto, praised Dijuna for its well-cooked roast, quoted Dickens' famous quotes while eating pudding, and recalled Voltaire's aphorisms while drinking coffee. As soon as Simpson had finished wiping his mouth with his napkin, he said, "Old Quinn, it's the same old thing. Stuck, stumped, stumped. It's a perennial mystery. How the hell did it happen?" "

The police officer raised his bloodshot eyes: "Go and ask my son." The old man almost dipped his nose into the coffee cup, "It seems that he is very satisfied with the progress of the case." "You take these things too seriously, Dad," Ellery said, puffing out calmly. "There's something wrong with it, but I don't think—" He took a deep breath. Take a puff of smoke, then puff it out——"I don't think it's unsolvable." "Huh?" The three of them stared at him in unison; the police officer opened his eyes wide in surprise.

"Stop asking me, I beg you," Ellery grumbled. "At times like these, my speech becomes pedantic and pedantic. I know Simpson hates it too." Yes. Besides, I don't like to use syllogistic reasoning when I'm full. Di Juna, have another cup of coffee, my boy." Simpson said flatly, "But if you know anything, Ellery, spit it out! What is it?" Ellery took the glass from Dijuna. "That's too immature, Simpson. I think it's better not to talk about it now." Simpson jumped up and began pacing up and down the carpet excitedly: "It's always the same thing! The old tune! 'So immature'!" He snorted like a gallant horse, " Pepper, I would like to ask, what is the latest information?"

"Well, Prosecutor," said Pepper, "Willie found a lot, but none of it seems to me to be of much use to us. For example, Hennywell—that church The sexton—reported that the graveyard was never locked, yet neither he nor his associates saw anything suspicious at any time before the funeral." "It's outrageous," the police officer said loudly. "The cemetery and the backyard are not patrolled. If someone came in and out dozens of times, they wouldn't be noticed. Especially at night. Bah!" "How about those neighbors?" "Nothing new," Pepper replied. "Willie's report is complete. You see, the houses on either the south side of Fifty-fifth Street or the north side of Fifty-fourth Street have back doors." Leading to the backyard. On Fifty-fifth Street, from east to west, the houses are in order: Fourteenth, on the corner of Madison Avenue, is the house of Mrs. Susan Moss, the one who came to the funeral Crazy old woman. No. 12, Dr. Fullerstead--the doctor who treated Khalkis. No. 10, the parsonage of the next church, where the Rev. Ada lived. In fifty-fourth On the main street, from east to west, you can find: 15th, on the corner of Madison Avenue, live the Rodolle Gantz and his wife."

"Is that the retired meat canner?" "Yes. As for between the Gantz's and the Khalkis's at No. 11, it's No. 13—an empty boarded-up house." "Don't worry. It's owned," grumbled the inspector. "It's owned by that famous millionaire, Mr. James Knox, in the stolen will of Khalkis." He was the one who nominated the executor here. The house is no longer occupied—an old property. Knox used to live there three years ago, but since he moved to a nearby non-commercial area, the house has let it empty." "I've checked the deeds," Pepper explained. "The house is of course unsecured and free to buy and sell, but it's not going to be sold. I suspect he's keeping the house for sentimental reasons. It was the ancestral house - as old as the shabby house in Khalkisna - built at the same time.

"But, anyway, there's no one in these houses—owners, or servants, or guests—who can give Willy anything. You know, two streets The back doors of the upper two rows of houses all lead to the back yard; you cannot go to the back yard from Madison Avenue, except through the basement of the Moss house or the Ganz house, the only two houses along Madison Avenue; Fourteenth Street, or Madison Avenue, or Fifty-fifth Street, none of which have a little alley to the backyard." "In other words," said Simpson impatiently, "you can't get to the backyard unless you go through the houses, or the church, or the cemetery—is that so?"

"That's right. As far as the cemetery is concerned, there are only three accesses--through the back door of the church; through the door at the west end of the back yard; There's a door in the fence on this side of Fifty-fourth Street." "That still doesn't mean anything," said the inspector disapprovingly. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that everyone Willie questioned said he hadn't been at night or anywhere since Khalkis's burial." Time to go to the cemetery." "With one exception," Ellerys interposed gracefully, "Mrs. Moss has been there, Pa. You forgot her. I remember Willie saying that she admitted she had a habit of going to the cemetery every afternoon. Go for a walk on a dead man's head."

"True," said Pepper, "but she adamantly never went at night. At any rate, Prosecutor, all these occupants are parishioners in the church, and Knox is certainly not among them, nor is he at all." It's a resident here." "He's a Catholic," exclaimed the inspector, "of a decent cathedral in the West End." "That reminds me. Where's Knox?" asked the prosecutor. "Well, he left town this morning, and I don't know where he's been," said the old man. "I've sent Thomas to get a search warrant—we can't wait for Knox to come back, I Determined to search his vacant house next door to Khalkis'."

"The prosecutor knew," Pepper explained, "that the officer had an idea that Greenshaw's body might have been hidden in the vacant house in Knox until after the funeral and before it was buried in Khalkis' coffin." "That's right, old Quinn." "Anyway," Pepper went on, "Knox's secretary is adamant about revealing the tycoon's whereabouts, so we'll have to get a search warrant." "It may not matter," the inspector expressed his opinion, "but I must sharpen my head, and I must not pass any chance for nothing."

"What a wonderful principio operandi," Ellery said with a chuckle. His father scowled and looked at him disapprovingly. "You—you think you're great," he said feebly. "Well . . . We still have a problem. We still don't know when Greenshaw was killed—how long he was dead. Anyway, an autopsy can always draw an accurate conclusion. Can be based on extrapolation. Assuming that Khalkis died before Greenshaw was killed, it must mean - considering where we found the body - that it was planned in advance to bury Greenshaw in Khalkis' coffin Go. See what I mean? If so, then this empty house is a good place for the murderer to preserve Greenshaw's body until after Khalkis's burial, and then find an opportunity to use the coffin that has already been buried. " "Yes, but you can also look at the problem from another angle, Lao Kui," Simpson objected. "In the absence of an autopsy report, assuming that Khalkis died after Greenshaw was killed, it is equally valid. This means that the murderer had no way of predicting Khalkis' sudden death in advance, nor did he know that there would be an opportunity to bury the victim in Khalkis' coffin, so the body must have been hidden at the scene of the murder—and we There is no reason to believe that it was killed in situ in the vacant house next door. So, at any rate, I think it is useless to make any assumptions about how long Greenshaw has been dead." "You mean," Pepper thought, "assuming Grimshaw was strangled before Khalkis' death, then his body was probably harbored at the scene of the killing, isn't it? Then, Kalkis Keith was dead, and the murderer had an idea that he could bury the body in Khalkis' coffin, so he dragged the body to the cemetery, perhaps through the gate in the fence on Fifty-fourth Street?" "That's right," cried Simpson. "The house next door to Khalkis is in all likelihood irrelevant to this case. Such speculation is speculative." "Maybe it's not very speculative," Ellery said calmly. "On the other hand, in my humble opinion, everyone in this room is just talking on paper. Why not wait patiently for the autopsy report?" "Wait—wait," grumbled the officer, "I'm getting old." Ellery grinned and said, "If Chaucer's story is to be believed, then you are at the age when you can do something, my lord father. Remember what it said in the "Bird Dialogue"?" Well said : It is from this old field that new seedlings and new valleys grow every year.'” "Pepper, is there anything else?" Simpson shouted.He didn't think much of Ellery at all. "And a little business. Willie questioned the janitor at the department store across the street from the Kharkiss and the cemetery—the man who stood all day at the entrance to the mall on Fifty-fourth Street. Willie questioned the man on duty. But both men said that since the funeral, they have never seen anything suspicious in broad daylight. The policeman did not see any signs during the night patrol, but he admitted that it is possible that the body was not noticed by him. As for the department stores, there is no one on duty at night in a position where they can see the cemetery: the watchman stays indoors all night. You see, that's how it is." "Sitting around like this, talking nonsense, is driving me crazy," the policeman said to himself as he slumped in a chair in front of the fireplace, warming himself by the fire. "La patience est nmere, mais son fruit est doux," Ellery also said to himself, "I've grown old to quote." "It's my retribution," grumbled the inspector, "for sending my son to college. He's talking to me. What does that mean?" "'Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet,'" grinned Ellery. "That was spoken by a frog." "It's a—what? A frog?" "Oh, he's joking again," said Simpson impatiently. "He's probably referring to a Frenchman. It sounds like Rousseau said it." "It seems, Simpson," said Ellery cheerfully, "that you are often very learned when you say things outrageously sometimes?"