The next morning dawned gray and dreary. The sky looked like a solid sheet of slate that bore down heavily upon the earth’s inhabitants. Phalen and Flix decided to skip breakfast and get an early start.
“Dr. Quintland has been most generous, lending me his personal automobile, Cupid.”
“I really think he wants this thing put to rest as quickly as possible,” Flix said.
“You’re probably right. His guests will scatter like quail after a cannon blast if it is not,” Phalen said. “At least, the doctor has a good alibi. He was holding the hand of a client who is trying to get a monkey off his back.”
“That is good to know, but what about me? You have not asked me where I was or if I have an alibi. As Miss Avery said so bluntly, Phalen, we are all suspects.”
“All! I dare say not,” Phalen said. “There is one of you that I trust.”
“But how do you know I am not responsible for the death of this young woman?”
“Because,” Phalen said. “I have gone through hell and back with you. I trusted you with my life in the trenches, and on more than one occasion, I might add, you were there for me. I have you to thank for still having a life!”
“I suppose you are right. You and I, at least, have had the metal of our characters purified in that blast furnace called war.”
“Exactly,” Phalen said. “But, you realize, this does not mean that I will not have to be as harsh on you as I am the others. They must not suspect that we are friends or war buddies. Dr. Quintland has given me his word that he will keep our secret.
I want you there for me as my eyes and ears, but no one must suspect that you are my assistant in this investigation. I have come up with a cover to explain your absence, Cupid.
You have been sent to the infirmary, suffering a nervous collapse, as it were, from the shock of what has just happened. I hope you don’t mind, but it was the only story I could think of to justify your absence on such short notice.”
“I am willingly your spy,” Flix said. “If the murderer is there at the sanitarium, as one of the guests, staff, or frequent visitors, then it is better if they think I am a wilting violet. I can remain in the background, unnoticed, as the others go about their routines. That little lie you have planted will work to my advantage, I think.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d see it like that.”
“Now where are we going?” Flix asked.
“We’re headed across the county. That’s where the victim’s body was taken. As I told you before, Quintland insisted the corpse be removed from the property and taken there as quickly as possible.”
Phalen lit a cigarette.
“And thanks for coming along,” Phalen continued, drawing deeply on the end of the cigarette and filling the car with a hazy cloud of smoke, “I like the company. Riding with my sergeant is a bit like riding with a sweating cow. Wields is six foot four and is always hot, even in a snow storm. A good man, though, if you don’t mind riding around with the windows down in December. Heh! I swear one of these days I’m gonna get frostbite!
But seriously, Wields sent word to me this morning. My automobile is officially dead. I’ll have to get another, but right at the moment, buying another car is at the bottom of my list.”
“Yes. I agree. This doctor, I assume, will allow us to examine the body?”
“Yes.
It’s about twenty miles away according to Quintland. The place is stuck way out on the other side of a little town right on the edge of nowhere.”
“Part of that may be because the Leigh estate is just so large, Phalen. And then, of course, there’s that lake. It is enormous, too,”
“Yes, that’s part of it, I’m sure,” Phalen said.” Even Quintland remarked that it will be a bit like climbing Mount Everest to get there. I mean with the storm and all. He said the roads weren’t that great in dry weather. Now, we’re axle deep in mud.”
Phalen swerved to miss a large rock sticking up in the middle of the road.
“I’ve given strict orders not to touch her until I have had the chance to thoroughly comb the body for clues. I just hope these hillbillies will not get antsy and have her buried before we get there.”
“I agree. Too many times, valuable evidence can be lost in haste. What more do you know about this girl, Phalen?”
“Not much. She’s been working in her present position at the estate for some time. Quiet. No family. Dr. Quintland says she was highly recommended as a sweet, hardworking girl. Hired to do general housework. A maid. No complaints from anyone, according to the doctor.”
“A mouse, like the one that scampered across her room, giving you such a fright. A little mouse who goes about her work unnoticed. And she gives her killer such a fright that he feels compelled to take her life. Interesting.”
“Why so, Cupid?”
“Well, think about it,” Flix said. “Here, we have a ‘nobody.’
I do not say that to be cruel. It is simply a fact.
A working girl. No one rich. No one famous. Nothing to indicate a troubled background. Good references.
Why was she a victim?
No friends. No enemies.
Why kill someone who is no one?
Was she more than we think?
Evil?
Or was she simply someone unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Think about it, my friend.
We have a victim who has been strangled.
Strangulation is a man’s preferred method of murder. And it is a method of killing that requires the murderer to be close to his victim.
But, you suspect that she was being poisoned, too.
Well, then why go to all the trouble of strangling someone if you are already poisoning them?
Poison.
That is usually a woman’s preferred method of knocking someone off.”
“Yes,” Phalen said. “You’re right on all counts. I quickly assessed the body on the boathouse floor. Our victim shows all the signs of being poisoned. Her eyes were puffy. She had white horizontal lines on her fingernails. Thinning hair. Coworkers told me she was often very ill.”
“So,” said Cupid, “are we dealing with a man and a woman operating as a team to destroy this young girl?
Or, do we have a man who employs both methods, first poison, and then, when that does not do away with her quickly enough, strangulation?
He quickly chokes the life out of her.
Or, do we have a man and a woman whose intent is to kill the maid, but who are operating on their own, unaware of what the other is doing?
Unless, of course, the maid was strangled by mistake!”
“Which makes the whole case about as clear as mud!” Phalen said.
“Exactly.
And while we ruminate, let us consider this: what are the reasons that compel murderers to act?
Greed, revenge, pride.
To protect.
To keep a secret.
A fit of insanity, although, Phalen, I believe that losing one’s mind does not happen so much, unless one was, say, in those abominable trenches.”
“I agree. In war, you must lose yourself and simply operate like a machine.”
“Kill or be killed.”
“Oh, here we are at last,” Phalen said.
The car pulled up to a small, white clapboard building. Nothing would alert the passing traveler that this was not a family-owned general store, were it not the hand-painted sign advertising ‘Doc Brinally: Doctor’s Office, General Medicine, Merchandise, & Hand-made Coffins at Dirt Cheap Prices.’
“Unusual, but effective, I suppose,” Flix murmured.
“I warned you. Quintland said this place was a rustic backwater. He wasn’t fooling.”
The detective and his friend were greeted by the owner.
“Call me, Doc,” said the old man.
They were led through a storefront where a few canned goods lined the shelves. In the back of the store was a selection of wooden coffins painted or stained a myriad of colors. Off to one side, a small room held baby coffins, all painted white. Flix noticed that these were lined with squares of brightly colored material. A tiny handmade pillow rested at the head of each.
Fringed lamp shades with small electric bulbs lent a somber atmosphere to the back of the store. Doc seemed very proud of his establishment. He had yet to mention the body downstairs, preferring instead to chat about the latest competition that threatened his enterprise.
“I got my son-in-law, Clemis, to make these beauties for me. He’s real handy with a hammer. You know anybody in need of a good carpenter, send him to Clemis. I guarantee Clemis will satisfy the fussiest hard ass this side ‘a the Mississippi.
Dang, if it don’t seem like good hard work don’t mean a hoot, nowadays.
All these upstarts ‘round here want is machine-made goods. Derned metal coffins is the rage. All of a sudden, good ole woodies ain’t good enough no more. Burns my cigarette butts, but times are changing. And not for the better, if you ask me.”
“Sir, could you kindly lead us to the body?”
“Oh, yeah. That. Well, don’t worry none, Cap’n. I did like you said. I ain’t touched her. They brought her to me, ‘n they told me to leaf her be. That’s just what I did.
Not that the rich ‘uns ever get carted out here.
No, sir.
Just the poor folks, like me. Figure she’s headed for the paupers’ cemetery. Maid, from what they said. But those high-brows out at the lake, even the new folks comin’ in droves I hear, new money ‘n all, why, they wouldn’t be caught dead near a place like this. Heh, heh.
Oh, watch your head. The beam’s kinda low. Or the steps are kinda high. Ain’t never figured out which.
Light switch is by the door. I’ve gotta run down the road and see about Lefty’s calf. I won’t be long.
Do double duty as the vet ‘round here.
Lefty’s awful worried ‘bout that dang calf.
But the girl, she’s resting on the table to your right. Got me two tables down there, you know. Wanted to expand, but hell, with these tin-can coffin makers selling ‘em so cheap, I don’t even know if I’ll be here next year. Everybody wants a confounded metal box. Wood just ain’t good ‘nuff, no more.
Thinking about opening up a practice in West Virginia. Mebbe Arkansas. The Ozarks, you know. Some place like that.
Heard they need docs out that way. Not too keen on modernization, I hear. Wood coffins ‘er still good enough for them. Clemis says he’s willin’ to make the move with my daughter. We’ll see.
You gentlemen turn the lights off after you’re done. Let me know when I can have her. Damn shame she ain’t got no fam’ly. I’ll be dousing her good with turpentine and wrapping her in a white sheet and taking her by wagon to the potter’s field, as quick as you say it is okay. Shame Death took her so young, a beauty like that.”
“Thanks, Doc. We will let you know when we’re through.”
“Take your time. Ain’t like I got ‘em stacked up to the ceiling. Only her and Guff Starkweather. Guff shorely don’t mind the company. Do ya, Guff?” Doc yelled down into the basement from the top of the stairway.
Both Phalen and Flix looked at Doc like he’d lost his mind. Doc didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll get to ya as soon as these two leaf me to get back to work. Enjoy the view, Guff. Heh. Heh.”
The old man shuffled off.
“Quite a character.”
“I agree. Seems to me, his bedside manner is doing more harm to his practice than the tin-can coffin makers,” Flix commented.
“Come on. Let’s get downstairs and get busy. If the evidence warrants an autopsy, I want to be here while Doc works. I want to be sure he does this right.”
“Afraid ole’ Doc might take short cuts, Phalen?”
“Ole’ Doc is just itchin’ to douse her with turp and plant her in the ground, so he can collect his five dollar burial fee. With five dollars staring him in the face, an autopsy is the last thing on his mind.”
The two made their way carefully down the basement stairs. It was cold and dark and smelled of turpentine. Phalen fumbled for the light switch.
The room became lit with dingy, yellow light.
It was as the old man had said, occupied by two bodies lying on metal tables, one to the right and one table on the left. A white slop jar stood empty beneath each table. The bodies were covered with white sheets. It would have been impossible to know which was which had they not been told, for Guff Starkweather was a small man.
Phalen and Flix had very serious looks on their faces. They moved to the body resting on the table to their right and removed the sheet covering.
“Must mean his other right,” Phalen said softly, replacing the sheet on the male corpse whose dull eyes stared up at the two men.
“Rough looking character,” stated Flix.
“I agree. Looks like he just came right off the mountains after about a twenty-year hike.”
“Smells like it, too. Doesn’t seem like whatever smashed his face in had much mercy.”
“Amen,” Phalen said, turning to the body on his left.
“Well, let’s see if she hides any clues,” Flix said.
Even though the two men came from different areas of the country, both had experience in big city police methods. Phalen was surprised at how easily they worked together.
Flix let Phalen take the lead, waiting for a point of the finger or a look from the detective before giving his assistance. They searched the body for anything that might tell them who the killer was.
“The old man was right about one thing, Cupid. She must have been beautiful.”
“Yes. Such a waste.”
“Hold your light closer while I examine her face,” Phalen said. “The chief has really tied my hands on this one. If only I could get her body back to the city coroner. I can’t help but believe we are going to miss crucial clues.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, Phalen, but if these are the circumstances we have to work with, then we can only make the best of them.
“How’s the lighting?”
“Not so good,” Flix said, adjusting his camera a little more to the right.
“It’s nice your uncle’s fortune allows you to collect so many toys, Cupid. You’re way ahead of us at the department with your gadgets. Budgets and all that. I never was good at brown-nosing. My department hobbles along on brains and ingenuity. Little else, I’m afraid.
“I’m only too glad to help,” said Flix. “But, you’re the expert, here. I was only a private investigator, remember?”
Flix was a renaissance man. Phalen had seen the evidence of his friend’s abilities many times during the war. It seemed to Phalen, Flix was a magician, coming up with practical solutions to problems in the trench and whipping up answers out of thin air. Flix loved science and plants and butterflies and moths. The fact that he had also been a Pinkerton agent in his younger days didn’t hurt, one bit.
“What are you looking for, Cupid?” Phalen asked, as his friend searched the room.
“A cabinet, a shelf. I am wondering where our wizard of industry keeps his extra sheets.”
“Probably has no extras is my guess. Two tables for two bodies. My guess is there are only two sheets.”
“You’re probably right. Well, Gruff Guff won’t mind, will you, fellow?” Flix said, pulling the sheet from the dead man’s body.
“Flix!”
“Don’t worry, Phalen. We’ll put it back when we’re done. See,” Flix said, smiling at his friend, “not a peep of discontentment from our old friend, Guff. Take this end. Drape it there and secure it, just as I have done on my side.”
“I say, you amaze me. The room is brighter with the light bouncing off the wall of white you’ve made.”
“I knew it would be. Shall we continue, Phalen?”
“Her right hand is clenched in a fist. There’s no way I can pry her fingers open. We’ll leave that to Doc.”
When the two had completed their examination, they took down the sheet and replaced it over the male corpse.
“I’ll go and tell Doc, if he’s back, that he can start the autopsy.”
“Phalen, what kind of place has a doctor who’s the funeral director?”
“I don’t know. But, I sure as shootin’ know I wouldn’t want to be one of his patients.”
“My thoughts, exactly.”