The Fourth Deadly Sin by Lawrence Sanders Read Free Book Online

my remembrance.”
    “When you went up the stairs,” Delaney persisted, “and into the receptionist’s office, did you smell anything?”
    “Smell? Well, that was a damned wet night. The inside of that house smelled damp. Almost moldy.”
    “But nothing unusual? Perfume, incense, cooking odors something like that?”
    The big black frowned. “Can’t recall anything unusual.
    Just the wet.”
    “That art gallery on the first floor-the door was locked?”
    “Yes, sir. And so was the door to Dr. Diane Ellerbee’s office on the second floor. And so was that private apartment on-the fourth. The victim’s office was the only one open.”
    “He was lying on his back?”
    “Yes, sir. Not a pretty sight.”
    “Sergeant,” Delaney said, swinging his swivel chair to face Boone, “how do you figure those two hammer blows to the eyes? After the poor guy was dead.”
    “That seems plain enough. Symbolic stuff. The killer wanted to blind him.”
    “Sure,” Delaney agreed. “But after he was dead? That’s heavy.”
    “Well, Ellerbee was a psychiatrist dealing with a lot of crazies. It could have been a patient who thought the doctor was seeing too much.”
    Delaney stared at him. “That’s interesting-and plausible.
    Listen, there are three sandwiches left, and I’ve got more beer and soda. Why don’t we finish eating and work at the same time?”
    They were done a little after 3:00 P.m and stuffed every thing back in the cartons. Then they all sat back and stared at each other.
    “Well?” Delaney demanded. “What do you think of the investigation so far?”
    Boone drew a deep breath. “I don’t like to put the knock on anyone,” he said hesitantly, “but it appears to me that Chief Suarez hasn’t been riding herd on his guys. For instance, in her statement Dr. Diane Ellerbee says she called Dr. Julius Samuelson about one-fifteen in the morning. The guy who’s supposed to check it out goes to Samuelson and asks, “Did Dr. Diane call you at one-fifteent And Samuelson says, “Yes, she did.” Now what kind of garbage is that? Maybe the two of them were in it together and protecting each other’s ass. She says she called from their Brewster home.
    That’s a toll call to Manhattan. So why didn’t someone check phone company records to make sure the call was actually made?”
    “Right!” Jason T. Jason said loudly. “Ditto her call to the Ellerbees’ garage. The night attendant says, “Yeah, she called,’ but no one checked to make sure the call was made from Brewster. Sloppy, sloppy work.”
    “I concur,” Delaney said approvingly. “And Samuelson said he was at a concert in Carnegie Hall when Ellerbee was offed. But I didn’t see a damned thing in those four cartons that shows anyone checked that out. Was he at the concert with someone or was he alone? And if he was alone, did anyone see him there? Does he have a ticket stub? Can the Carnegie Hall people place him there that night? Chief Suarez said he had more or less eliminated the widow and Samuelson as suspects. Bullshit! We’ve got a way to go before I’ll clear them. Don’t blame Suarez; he’s got a zillion other things on his mind besides this Ellerbee kill. But I agree; so far it’s been a half-ass investigation.”
    “So?” Boone said. “Where do we go from here?”
    “Jason,” Delaney said, pointing a thick forefinger at him, “you take the widow. Check out those two calls she says she made from Brewster. And while you’re at it, talk to the Brewster cop she says she phoned to ask if there was a highway accident. Make sure she did call, and ask the cop how she sounded. Was she hysterical, cool, angry-whatever. Boone, you take Samuelson and his alibi. See if you can find out if anyone can actually place him at Carnegie Hall at the time Ellerbee was killed.”
    “You think the widow and Samuelson might be lying?” Jason said.
    “Oh, Jesus,” Delaney said. “I lie, you lie, Boone lies, everyone lies. It’s part of the