"And you told her," Delaney said, "that I had asked if you had noticed any change in her husband's personality. And you told her what you told meright?"
"I really can't remember, but I suppose I did. Shouldn't I have?"
"Of course you should!" he said heartily.
"Thank you for your help, Carol. And I was serious about having another lunch. May I call you?"
"Anytime," she said breezily.
He hung up, smiling coldly. That was some brainy lady.
Not Carol Judd, but Diane Ellerbee. When she heard that he had asked if the victim's manner had changed, she realized he had probably asked the same question of Joan Yesell and Sylvia Mae Otherton and received similar answers.
But she, the wife, who should have been the most sensitive to her husband's moods, had said, oh, no, he hadn't changed.
So, having lied and fearing that Delaney would pick up on it, she had hiked herself to the brownstone and confessed: Oops, I made a mistake; he had become moody in the past year.
Delaney could appreciate her thinking; she had made an error and was covering up. That was okay; her ass was on the line and she had to improvise to protect it. He could understand that. But as far as he was concerned, it was another indication of her guilt. Nothing that would condemn her in a court of law, but significant.
There was another question that had to be answered. He phoned Detective Charles (Daddy Warbucks) Parnell, and the wife said he was working at a Staten Island precinct and could probably be reached there. She gave Delaney the number, but when he called, they said Parnell had already left, heading for one Police Plaza.
Delaney finally tracked him down. After an exchange of pleasantries, he asked Parnell, "Do you know the attorney who wrote Simon Ellerbee's will and put it into probate?"
"Yeah, I know the guy. Not well, but I know him. What do you need?"
"Just the date when Ellerbee made out his will. That business of canceling his patients' outstanding bills-I'd like to find out when Ellerbee decided on that."
"I don't know if he'll tell me, but I'll try. On Saturdays he's usually playing squash at his club. I'll call him there and get back to you one way or another."
"Thank you," Delaney said gratefully.
"I'll be here."
He went back to the kitchen for another Tuborg and brought it into the study, sipping thoughtfully out of the bottle.
He returned to the matter of how Simon Ellerbee had changed in the last year of his life, after he had started his affair with Joan Yesell. He wondered why Simon's mentor, Dr. Samuelson, hadn't noticed any change in his closest friend's personality.
Delaney dug out the report on Samuelson and there it was: Boone: "Did you notice any change in Simon Ellerbee in the last six months or a year?"
Samuelson: "No, no change."
Delaney stared at the written record of that exchange.
Something wasn't kosher. For a brief moment he wondered if Samuelson had been an accessory to Diane Ellerbee's crime.
He couldn't see it. Still… He phoned Dr. Samuelson.
"Edward X. Delaney here," he said.
"How are you today, sir?"
"Weary," Samuelson said.
"Patients this morning. Saturday afternoons I reserve to get caught up on my reading. Professional journals. Very dull stuff."
"I can imagine," Delaney said.
"Doctor, something important has come up concerning Simon Ellerbee's death, and I need your help. I was wondering if I could see you tomorrow morning. I know it'll be Sunday, but I hoped you'd still be willing to talk to me."
"Sure, why not?" Samuelson said.
"What time?"
"Oh, say ten o'clock. All right?"
"In my office. I'll see you then."
Satisfied, Delaney hung up and swiveled back and forth in his chair, ruminating. He thought about the relationship between Samuelson and Diane Ellerbee, and remembered the way she had treated him when they were at Brewster. He also recalled Rebecca Boone's comment on the drive home.
"I think he's in love with her," Rebecca had said.
The anklebone was connected to the kneebone which was connected to the thighbone which was connected to the hipbone. Humming, Delaney went to his file cabinet and dug out the biographies.
He found what he was looking for in Jason's report on Samuelson. Some years ago, the doctor had a breakdown and was out of action for about six months. The dates were carefully noted. God bless Jason Two.
Next, Delaney looked up the date of Diane and Simon Ellerbees' marriage.
Samuelson's crackup had occurred about two weeks later. Now that was interesting. Nothing you could take to the bank, but interesting.
Another little piece falling into place.
He was still pondering the significance of the Ellerbeesamuelson relationship when the phone rang. He picked it up, but before he had a chance to speak charles Parnell here," the detective said, laughing.
"Oh, yes. Thank you for calling back. How'd you make out?"
"Struck gold. The guy had won his squash match-against someone he's been trying to beat for years, so he was celebrating with dry martinis. Just high enough to talk more than he should have. Anyway, Ellerbee made out his will about five years ago. But the clause about his patients' outstanding bills was a codicil added three weeks before he died. Any help?"
"It's beautiful," Delaney said.
"Thank you very much, and a Happy New Year to you and yours."
"Same to you, sir."
Another little piece of the puzzle: Ellerbee canceling Joan Yesell's bills just three weeks before he was wasted-about the time, Delaney figured, the victim told his wife he wanted a divorce. Was he just being generous to his new love or did he have a premonition of his death?
Simon: "Diane, I want a divorce."
Diane: "I'll kill you!"
Delaney could believe that imagined dialogue; the lady was capable of it. The lady was also capable of lying glibly when it was required. He had asked her if she was surprised by the clause in her husband's will about his patients' bills. No, she had said, she wasn't surprised, because she was aware of what was in his will. And that, Delaney figured, was worldclass lying.
Thinking of what all this meant, he trundled into the kitchen and pulled a long white apron over his heavy, threepiece cheviot suit. The apron had KISS THE COOK printed on the front. Then he set to work preparing dinner for his family.
Since it was Saturday night, they would have hot dogs with toasted rolls, baked beans with a chunk of salt pork and an onion tossed in for flavor, and both hot and cold sauerkraut.
By nine o'clock the Delaneys' brownstone was jumping.
Peter and Jeffrey had arrived, bringing along a new board game called "Love at First Sight," in which you threw dice to move from square one (Blind Date) to the winning square (Happy Marriage).
At about the same time the boys showed up, Boone and Jason arrived and were whisked into the study, the door firmly closed against the noisy gaiety in the living room.
"Tis the season to be jolly," Delaney said ruefully.
"And they're doing it right here tonight. Before you tell me how you made out, let me fill you in on what I've been doing."
He told them why Diane had revised her statement about her husband's mood swings in the past year and the fact that Simon added the codicil to his will just three weeks before his death. He also discussed Dr.
Samuelson's curious relationship with Diane.
"I called him," he said.
"He agreed to see me tomorrow at ten. I think I'll lean on him."
"You want me to come along, sir?" Boone asked.
"No," Delaney said.
"Thanks. But I think this better be a one-on-one. Also, he knows I have no official position; I'm just a friend of the family, so to speak.
Maybe he'll be a little more open and spill. You've got to realize that everything I've told you won't make the DA lick his chops, but I think it's all evidence that we're heading in the right direction. Now let's hear what you dug up today. You both look like canary-eating cats, so I hope it's good news."