"You're kidding," she said.
"First I heard of it. Who would want that "The killer," Delaney said.
"Maybe. Where did you keep it?"
"In the top drawer of my desk."
"Everyone knew that? I mean patients and other people coming in and out of the office?"
"I suppose so. I didn't try to keep it hidden or anything like that. No point, was there?"
"I guess not. Carol, the last time I spoke to you, we talked about Doctor Simon's change of mood in the last year. You said he was up and down, happy one day, depressed the next."
"That's right. He became, you know, changeable."
"And also," Delaney said cheerfully, "you mentioned that he wore a flower in his buttonhole."
"Well, it really wasn't in his buttonhole because he didn't have one on his suit. But it was pinned to his lapel, yes."
"And it was the first time you had seen him wear a flower?"
"That's right. I kidded him about it, and we laughed. He was happy that day."
"Thank you," Delaney said gratefully.
"Now let's get back to that billing ledger for a minute. Were there patients who didn't pay or were slow on their payments?"
"Oh, sure. I guess every doctor has his share of slow payers and out-and-out deadbeats."
"And how did Doctor Ellerbee handle them?"
"I'd mail out second and third notices. You know-very polite reminders.
We had a forrn letter for it."
"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,"