The Door Between (28 page)

“Yes?” said the doctor blankly.

“The original, of course, is in dad’s hands. Let me assure you at once – there’s nothing wrong with the authorship of that letter. The handwriting has been checked and established as Esther’s beyond any question.

“Now, of course,” continued Ellery in a faraway voice, “we’ve got to make certain readjustments of interpretation regarding this letter, in the light of Karen Leith’s suicide. We assumed that Esther’s reference to herself as a murderess applied to Karen Leith – that is, that she was confessing to Karen Leith’s murder. Well, obviously, if Karen committed suicide Esther couldn’t have murdered her. She couldn’t have murdered her even if Karen hadn’t committed suicide, since Karen was alive when Esther was dead. Nor could Esther have been deliberately taking the blame for Karen’s death, since Karen wasn’t dead when Esther wrote the note.”

“Of course she was referring to my brother’s death, not Karen’s,” nodded the doctor. “Apparently until she took her own life Esther considered herself Floyd’s murderess.”

“Yes. That’s undoubtedly so. Her old phobia. Now that’s significant, because it fully implies the answer to one of the most puzzling phases of the entire case – exactly what hold it was that Karen had on Esther which made Esther submit to a life of fantastic exploitation by her own sister … to the extent of even agreeing to seem dead.”

The doctor knit his brow. “I don’t see –”

“It’s all a matter of the most cunning and morbid and vicious psychology,” said Ellery. “You said yourself you were astounded at the depths of Esther’s obsession seventeen years ago – how she insisted on thinking that she had murdered your brother against all the plain facts. But can you understand her obsession if I visualize for you a clever, unscrupulous woman who undid every step in Esther’s cure – who kept whispering to Esther that she
had
killed your brother intentionally, who so worked on the poor, harassed, tortured soul that eventually Esther was
sure
she had murdered her husband?”

The doctor was gaping at him.

“It explains everything,” said Ellery gloomily. “It explains Esther’s eagerness to send her child away – for how could her gentle nature stand the thought that some day her daughter would learn she was the daughter of a murderess? You told me yourself how Esther pressed the point that you adopt Eva and take her to the States, to bring her up in ignorance of her parentage.”

“That’s true,” muttered the doctor. “And Karen backed her up.”

“Of course; the idea was probably planted by Karen! Now Karen was a twisted being. There’s no doubt about that. To have done what she did, to have planned the foul thing she planned, she must have been off-center morally, a conscienceless, scheming woman. She knew Esther’s talent, a talent she herself did not possess. And Karen was a woman of tremendous ambition. So she fostered Esther’s belief that she had murdered your brother Floyd; and in Esther’s unbalanced emotional state she easily became a prey to Karen’s ambition and lay down under Karen’s thumb … Why did she do it? It wasn’t only ambition. It must have been thwarted passion, too. I think Karen Leith loved your brother Floyd. I think she wanted to make Esther suffer for having won the man she herself wanted.”

The doctor shook his head in a dazed way.

Ellery glanced at the sheet. “‘ Your mother,’ she wrote to Eva – this is Esther speaking in her suicide note – ‘is a monster; thank God the monster kept her secret from you.’”

“What can that mean except that everything Esther submitted to was for Eva’s sake? Eva, then, was Karen’s strongest weapon – she convinced Esther that if Eva should ever learn that her mother had murdered her father, Eva’s whole life, her outlook on life, would be ruined. And Esther agreed. She saw that. She saw that Eva must never know.

“Is it so hard to visualize Karen coldly and fantastically planning Esther’s ‘death’ by ‘suicide’ in Japan, with Esther’s consent and cooperation, just because she – Karen – felt her ambition would be consummated by removing to the States and reaping the full harvest in her native country of Esther’s genius? Is it so hard to see that Karen would take delight in this notion of getting close to Eva, so that Esther would suffer agonies in proximity with her daughter, knowing that she could never reveal herself? For that would be part of Karen’s revenge, too … And always Karen had one weapon to insure Esther’s silence. To threaten Esther that she would tell Eva who her mother was and what she had done!”

Dr. MacClure clenched his hairy hands. “The devil,” he said in a dry, remote rumble.

“Or at least,” nodded Ellery, ‘the devil’s mate. But I haven’t got to the most interesting part of all. Listen.” He read again from the copy of Esther’s suicide note. “‘For you are the only one in the world who might have saved my sister’s life.’” Ellery cried: “‘Who might have saved my sister’s life!’
How did Esther know
that Karen was doomed to die? How could Esther have known that Karen would be dead, when Esther herself died
forty-eight hours before
Karen!”

He got out of the chair and began to pace restlessly.

“Esther could only have known if she knew Karen meant to commit suicide. But how could Esther have known in advance that Karen planned suicide? Only if Karen had told her. ‘I have seen it coming,’ she writes, ‘and I have been powerless against it.’ Then Esther took a desperate step. She didn’t want Karen to die and herself to be found alive in that house – she didn’t want herself found even dead in that house, for in either event Eva would have found out after Karen’s death that her ‘monster’ of a mother was alive. So, in panic, Esther fled, to commit suicide herself in another city under a false name. That’s what she was referring to when she wrote: ‘And so I have done what in my monstrous helplessness I must do.’”

“It’s very clear,” said the doctor tiredly.

“Is it, Doctor? Why did Karen commit suicide?” Ellery leaned across the little table. “Why? She had everything to live for – fame, wealth, approaching marriage.
Why
did she commit suicide?”

The doctor looked startled. “You said yourself it must have been remorse, conscience.”

“Do you think so? Does a woman like Karen Leith really experience remorse? Then why didn’t she confess to the world before she committed suicide? Remorse means an awakening, a rebirth of human conscience – and it brings with it an effort to repay, to atone, to give back. Did Karen Leith die telling the world she had been a fraud for years? Did she change her will to restore to Esther what was rightfully hers? Did she do any of the things a conscience-stricken woman would have done under the peculiar circumstances? No. She died as she had lived – hiding a secret. No, Doctor, not remorse!

“And what,” cried Ellery, “is the tone of Esther’s letter? Is it the letter of a woman who has just been told by her sister the truth about that sister’s real crime against her? What did Esther mean by ‘our lightning destiny,’ ‘our insensate fate’? Isn’t there even a note of sympathy in the way she wrote about Karen? And, even if she had been an angel, could Esther have written sympathetically about Karen if she had just learned that Karen had lied to her about that seventeen-year-old murder, that Karen had wilfully and criminally used her, with a lie and a threat as weapons? No, Doctor, Karen committed suicide not out of remorse for what she had done to Esther; Karen committed suicide without having told Esther the truth about what she had done to Esther. Karen committed suicide for another reason altogether – a reason having nothing to do with Esther, a reason she could confide to Esther, a reason that could make Esther write sympathetically about her and pray God’s mercy on both their souls!”

“You confuse me,” said the doctor, passing his hand over his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

“Then perhaps I can make you understand.” Ellery picked up the transcript again. “‘If only,’“ he read, “‘you had not gone away’ – referring to you, Doctor. ‘If only you had taken her with you. For you are the only one in the world who might have saved my sister’s life.’ Does that make it clearer?”

“Esther meant,” sighed the doctor, ‘that if I hadn’t left for that European vacation, or if I had taken Karen with me, Karen probably wouldn’t have committed suicide.”

“But why,” asked Ellery in a soft voice, “did she write that you’re
the only one in the world
who might have saved Karen?”

“Well,” frowned the doctor, “a
fiancé
’s influence – I was the only one Karen really cared for –”

“Why did she write that with your leaving went Karen’s
last protection
,
her last hope
?”

The doctor stared at him with his light blue eyes, painfully focussed.

“I’ll tell you, Doctor,” said Ellery slowly. “This room is a tomb, and I can tell you. I can say it aloud in this room – I can voice this fancy of mine, this little thing, this monstrous and persistent thing, this conviction that has tortured me all evening.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dr. MacClure, gripping the arms of his chair.

“I mean, Doctor, that you murdered Karen Leith.”

Dr. MacClure got out of the chair after a moment and went to the window, to clasp his hairy hands behind him in the loose and powerful way to which Ellery had become accustomed. The big man turned around then, and to Ellery’s astonishment there was an expression of quiet amusement on his face.

“Of course, Queen,” said the doctor, chuckling, “you’re joking.”

“I assure you I’m not,” said Ellery a little stiffly.

“But, man – you’re so inconsistent! First you say Karen committed suicide – and what’s more, prove it! – and now out of a clear sky you accuse me of murdering her. You’ll understand my natural bewilderment.”

Ellery scraped his lean jaw for an instant. “I can’t decide whether you’re amusing yourself at my expense or being very forbearing. Doctor, I’ve just accused you of the worst crime on the human calendar. Would you like me to defend my accusation?”

“By all means,” said the doctor instantly. “I’m curious to learn how you go about logically proving that a man can kill a fellow-creature in a house in New York while he’s lying in a deckchair on a ship in mid-ocean, a day and a half from port.”

Ellery flushed. “You’re insulting my intelligence. In the first place, I didn’t say I could prove it by strict logic. In the second place, I didn’t say you committed the murder of Karen Leith with your hands.”

“You interest me even more. How did I do it – with my astral body? Come, come, Queen, confess you’re having a little joke with me, and let’s stop this discussion. Come on over to the Medical Club and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I haven’t the slightest objection to drinking with you, Doctor, but I think we had better clear the air first.”

“Then you
are
serious.” The doctor surveyed Ellery thoughtfully, and Ellery felt a little uncomfortable under the direct scrutiny of those penetrating eyes. “Well, go ahead,” said the doctor at last. “I’m listening, Queen.”

“Smoke?”

“No, thank you.”

Ellery lit another cigaret. “I must repeat, in quoting again from Esther’s letter – why were you the only one in the world who might have saved Karen? Why were you her last hope?”

“And I must repeat – although I can’t pretend to know beyond question what was in poor Esther’s mind – that it seems to me a simple matter. My physical presence, Karen’s attachment to me, would have prevented her from taking her own life.”

“Yet Esther didn’t seem too sure, did she?” murmured Ellery. “She didn’t say you
could
have saved Karen’s life; she only said you
might
have.”

“You’re quibbling about pretty distinctions,” said Dr. MacClure. “Certainly I might have; even had I been here Karen might still have committed suicide.”

“On the other hand,” said Ellery mildly, ‘the suspicion struck me that if there was any uncertainty in Esther’s mind about your inability to prevent Karen from committing suicide, the reason may have had nothing at all to do with you as Karen’s lover, you see.”

“I’m dense tonight,” smiled the doctor. “I confess I don’t grasp what you’re driving at.”

“Doctor,” said Ellery abruptly, “what is it that you can do better than anyone else in the world?”

“I’ve never been conscious of any overwhelming superiority. But I’m flattered, naturally.”

“You’re too modest. You are famous for – you have just received international recognition for – you have devoted your life, your renowned skill, your fortune to – the study and treatment of human cancer.”

“Oh, that!” said the doctor, waving his hand.

“Everyone knows that you are top cancer man in your profession. Even Esther must have known that – she was shut in physically, but her books show how closely through reading she kept in touch with the world. Now isn’t it strange that Esther, knowing you to be the greatest authority on cancer, should write that you are the only one in the world who might have saved Karen’s life?”

Dr. MacClure came back to his chair and sprawled in it, folding his hands on his chest and half-closing his eyes.

“This is fantastic,” he said.

“Not really,” drawled Ellery. “For we still must find a reason why a woman who has everything to live for should suddenly take it upon herself to commit suicide. We have no motive, you see. Unless we say: She felt the hand of death upon her. She was suffering from an incurable disease. Unless we say: She knew death to be a matter of only a short time.

“Then her suicide in the face of her impending personal happiness, her fresh and supreme literary honors, her comfortable circumstances, her inheritance of a large fortune only a month away – then, I say, her suicide in the face of these things becomes comprehensible. And only then.”

The doctor shrugged in a queer way. “You’re suggesting, I believe, that Karen had cancer?”

“I believe that that was what Esther had in mind when she wrote that you were the only one in the world who might have saved her sister’s life.”

“But you know as well as I that in the autopsy report of your own Dr. Prouty there was no mention of cancer! – not a breath of it. Don’t you think if Karen’d had an advanced cancer he would have found it in autopsy?”