“And what if they didn’t pay up, even after the notices?
What happened then? Did he drop them?”
“He never did,” she said, laughing and wiping ketchup from her lips with her napkin.
“He was really such a sweet, easygoing guy. He’d say, “Well, maybe they’re a little strapped,’ and he’d keep treating them. A soft touch.”
“Sounds like it,” Delaney said. He had finished his club sandwich and the little container of cole slaw. Now he sat back, took a deep breath, and said, “Do you remember the name of the patient who owed Doctor Ellerbee the most money?”
“Sure,” Carol Judd said promptly, popping the last French fry into her mouth with her fingers.
“Joan Yesell. She owed almost ten thousand dollars.”
“Joan Yesell?” he repeated, not letting his exultation show.
“Ten thousand dollars?”
“About.”
“That was more than any other patient owed?”
“A lot more.”
“Did you send her second and third notices?”
“At first I did, but then the doctor told me to stop dunning her. He said she probably couldn’t afford it. So he just carried her.”
“Thank you,” Delaney said.
“Thank you very much. Now, how about some dessert?”
“Well …” Carol.Judd said.
“Maybe.”
He plodded home on a steely-gray afternoon, smoking a Cuesta-Rey 95 and thinking he owned the world. Well, he didn’t have it all, but he had most of it. Enough that made sense. The problem was: Where did he go from here?
The brownstone was silent and empty. The women, he supposed, were out exchanging Christmas gifts. He went into the study and got on the horn. It took almost an hour to locate Boone and Jason and summon them to a meeting at nine o’clock that night. He was ruthless about it: Be here.
But when they arrived and he had them seated, the study door closed against the chatter of the women in the living room, he wondered how he might communicate his own certainty. He knew it might sound thin, but to him it was sturdy enough to run on.
“Listen,” he began.
“I’m convinced Simon Ellerbee was in love, or having an affair, or both, with Joan Yesell. Four women, including his wife, said that his personality changed recently. But they don’t agree on how it changed. He was up, he was down, he was this, he was that: a good picture of a guy so mixed up he couldn’t see straight. Also, Ellerbee was carrying Yesell on the books. She owed him about ten grand and he was making no effort to collect. I got that from Carol Judd, his receptionist, just-this afternoon.”
The two officers were leaning forward, listening intently.
He saw he would have no problem convincing them; they wanted to believe.
“That would explain his will,” Boone said slowly.
“Canceling his patients’ debts. He put that in for Yesell’s benefit.
Right, sir?”
“Right. She owed much more than any other patient. Also, I went through his appointment book again. She’s down as a late patient eleven times this year, always on Friday nights.
But the interesting thing is that notation of those Friday night visits stopped in April. Only I don’t think the sessions stopped. I believe they went on, but he didn’t write them down in his book.”
“You think he was screwing her?” Jason asked.
“Had to be,” Delaney said.
“A healthy, good-looking guy like that. They weren’t playing tiddledywinks up in his office.”
“Doctor Diane and Samuelson swear he was faithful,” Boone pointed out. “Maybe they didn’t know,” Delaney said.
“Or maybe they were lying to protect his reputation. At the moment it’s not important. What is important is that Yesell was meeting him late in his office on Friday nights while his wife was heading up to Brewster. I’ll bet my left nut that’s what was happening.
Also I dug out a report from Konigsbacher that states Symington saw Ellerbee driving uptown alone on First Avenue at about nine o’clock on a Friday night. I figure he had just dropped off Yesell at her brownstone and was heading up to Brewster.”
“The Yesell dame has no car,” Jason said, nodding.
“So she probably took a cab or bus to Ellerbee’s office. Then he drove her home. That listens.”
“Another thing,” Boone said.
“Right after we questioned her the first time, she tried to slit her wrists. That could mean guilty knowledge.”
“And how about Mama lying to give her an alibi,” Jason added.
“I think we got enough right there.”
They looked at each other, smiling grimly as they realized they had no hard evidence at all.
“We’re going to have to brace her,” Delaney said.
“Sooner or later. Her and her mother, too. Really lean on them. But there are a few things I’d like to learn first. If she killed Ellerbee, what was the motive? Maybe he had promised to divorce his wife and marry her and then reneged or kept stalling. That’s one possibility. Another is that he knocked her UP.”
“Jesus Christ,” the Sergeant said.
“Her?”
“It’s possible,” Delaney argued.
“That woman detective, Helen Venable, she’s close to Yesell, isn’t she? See if she can find out if Yesell is pregnant or if she had an abortion. And while Venable is doing that, Jason, you find out who her personal physician is, and see what he can tell you. Probably not a goddamned thing, but try. Meanwhile, Boone, you get a man to St. Vincent’s Emergency and wherever else she was taken after those suicide attempts. Try to get a look at the records and talk to the doctors and nurses. See if anyone noted pregnancy on her chart.”
“A long shot,” Boone said dubiously.
“Sure it is, but it’s got to be done. Also, cover all the hardware stores in her neighborhood and in the area where she works. See if any clerk remembers selling a ball peen hammer to a woman answering her description.”
“You really think she chilled Ellerbee, sir?” Jason asked curiously.
” I really think she was there that night and knows more than she’s telling us. Anyway, see what you can find out, and tomorrow night let’s all three of us confront her. Maybe we’ll take Detective Venable along so Yesell won’t be so frightened.
But I want to wring that young lady dry.”
“We could take her in,” Boone suggested.
“For what?” Delaney demanded.
“Unless we can tie her to the purchase of a hammer, we’ve got zilch. Our only hope is to break her down. I don’t like doing it-she seems like a mousy little thing-but we can’t let that influence us. I busted a woman once who stood four-nine and weighed about ninety pounds, soaking wet. She bashed in her boyfriend’s skull with a brick while he was sleeping. Sometimes the mousy little things can surprise you. Well, Sergeant,” Delaney concluded, looking directly at Boone.
“What do you think?”
“As Jason said, it listens,” Boone said cautiously.
“I mean it all comes together and makes sense. So Joan Yesell and Ellerbee were making nicenice.
The only thing that sticks me is why? The doc had the most beautiful wife in the world and smart, too. Why in God’s name would he risk all that for a fling with someone like Yesell? Compared to Diane, she’s a shadow.”
“Right,” Delaney said, nodding.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t want to get too heavy, but here’s how I figure it.
We know Diane was Ellerbee’s student. He sees this absolutely beautiful girl who doesn’t want to be anything but beautiful … a princess. So he decides to convince her to use her brain. She follows his advice and goes on to make a great career. Sergeant, remember Samuelson talking about the Pygmalion-Galatea syndrome? That’s what it was. Now, years later, Ellerbee meets Joan Yesell. He sees something there, too, and tries to bring it out. You know what his problem was?
He had to improve his women. There are guys like that. They can’t love a woman for what she is. They have to remake her to conform to some vision of their own. Does any of that make sense?”
“I’ve got a brother-in-law like that,” Jason said.
“Always nudging my sister to do this, do that, wear this, wear that. He just won’t let her be. I give them another year or two. Then they’ll split.”
“That’s it exactly,” Delaney said gratefully.
“And I think that was part of the attraction Ellerbee felt for Joan Yesell. He wanted to create her. Another thing-everyone kept telling Ellerbee how lucky he was. Remember?
Man, are you ever lucky being married to a real goddess with all those bucks!
Now I ask you: How long could you take that? Wouldn’t it begin to wear after a while? Isn’t it possible you’d prefer a plain little shadow who thinks you’re God Almighty? Or maybe Ellerbee was just bored. Or Yesell was the greatest lay since Cleopatra-or at least better than Diane. In any case there are enough reasons to account for Ellerbee’s infidelity.
The poor guy,” Delaney added, shaking his head.
“He needed professional help.”
They all worked as fast as they could, but it was no good. By the evening of December 27th, Delaney had learned little more.
Helen Venable said she’d swear on a stack of Bibles yea high that Joan Yesell was not pregnant and never had been but she couldn’t prove it one way or the other. Jason had no luck with Yesell’s physician. The doctor wouldn’t talk and ordered the cop out of his office. Boone’s men got nothing from St. Vincent’s or the other emergency room that had handled Yesell’s suicide attempts.
The canvassing of hardware stores yielded no better results. No one remembered selling a ball peen hammer to anyone resembling Joan Yesell. The super at her brownstone was questioned, but he didn’t even know what a ball peen was, let alone own one. So that was that.
“All right,” Delaney said, sighing, “let’s go talk to the lady. The funny thing is, about a week ago, I suggested to Deputy Thorsen that maybe Mama Yesell had lied to cover up her daughter’s affair with a boyfriend. That was on the mark, but who the hell could have guessed the boyfriend was the victim?”
They drove downtown in Jason’s car and met Venable in front of Joan’s brownstone.
“You going to take her in?” Helen demanded.
“Let’s wait and see,” Delaney said.
“We’ve got no warant, and right now we can’t show probable cause. If she confesses -that’s something else again.
She’s home?”
“She and Blanche both.”
“Fine. You buzz her on the intercom and talk. Then we’ll all go up.”
When they marched into that overstuffed apartment, die two plump cats looked up at them sleepily but didn’t bother rising. Blanche Yesell’s reaction was more electric.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” she said sharply, her beehive hairdo bobbing with fury.
“Haven’t we suffered enough? This is harassment, pure and simple, and I assure you the police department will be hearing from my lawyer.”
Delaney decided to set the tone of the interrogation right then and there.
“Madam,” he thundered, “you lied to us. Do you wish to be arrested for obstruction of justice? If not, just sit down and keep your mouth shut!”
It stunned her into silence. Mother and daughter sat down abruptly on the ornate settee. After a few seconds they clasped hands and looked fearfully up at the four cops.
“You,” Delaney said harshly, addressing Mrs. Blanche Yesell.
“You said you were here with your daughter on the night Doctor Ellerbee was killed. A deliberate falsehood. Do you wish to revise your statement now, madam?”
“Well, uh …” she said, “I might have stepped out for a few minutes.”
“A few minutes,” he repeated scornfully, then turned to the three officers.
“Did you hear that? A few minutes! Isn’t that beautiful?” He turned back to the mother.
“More like three hours and probably four. And we have the statements of your bridge club members to prove it. Three respectable women testifying to your peury. Do you dare deny it?”
He had her intimidated, but she wasn’t willing to give up yet.
“My Joan is innocent!” she cried in an anguished voice.
“Is she?” Delaney said contemptuously.
“Is she really? And that’s why you found it necessary to lie to us, was it?” He moved to confront the daughter, whose face had become ashen.
“And now you, Miss Yesell. Were you aware that in his will Doctor Ellerbee canceled his patients’ outstanding bills?”
The unexpected question startled her. She shook her head dumbly.
“How much did you owe him?” he said sternly.
“I don’t remember,” she faltered, “exactly.”
“Sergeant Boone,” Delaney said, “how much did Joan Yesell owe Doctor Ellerbee?”
“About ten thousand dollars,” Boone said promptly.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Delaney repeated, glaring at the young woman. “Much, much more than any other patient.
And Doctor Ellerbee was making no effort to collect this debt.
Why do you suppose that was, Miss Yesell?”
“He was a very kind man,” her mother said in a low voice.
“And we didn’t have – 2’ “You had enough,” Delaney interrupted roughly.
“Your daughter had a good-paying job. You had enough to pay him if you had wanted to or he had dunned you for it. Boone, how do you see it?”
“I figure their affair started about a year ago,” the Sergeant said glibly.
“Then, around April, it got really serious. That was when he stopped noting her late Friday night visits in his appointment book.”
“Friday nights,” Delaney said, nodding.
“Every Friday night he could make it. His wife would take off for Brewster, and you,” he said, staring at the mother, “you would take off for your bridge game. A sweet setup. Did he promise to divorce his wife and marry you?” he shouted at Joan Yesell.
She began weeping, burying her face in her palms. Detective Venable took one step toward her, then stopped. She knew better than to interfere.
“We know, Joan,” Delaney said, suddenly gentle.
“We know all about your affair with Doctor Simon. Did he tell you he loved you?”
Her bowed head moved up and down.
“Sure he did,” Delaney said in a soft voice.
“Said he was going to divorce his wife and marry you. But he kept stalling, didn’t he? So you … Jason, where do you suppose she got the hammer?”
“That’s easy,” the officer said.