Old Dr. Sam Hawthorne was awaiting his visitor, glass in hand. "You're a bit late today. Here, sit down while I pour you a slight libation. I want to tell you about the first month Mary Best was my new nurse, and what happened at Pilgrim Memorial Hospital. It was May of 'thirty-five, halfway through a mild Northmont spring . . ."

This was my first opportunity to take Mary on an extended tour of the hospital (Dr. Sam continued). My office was in a converted wing of the building—converted when the hospital board finally agreed that its original eighty-bed space was too much for a town of Northmont's size and potential. It was handy for me, since I could visit my hospital patients between occasional office calls. A good bit of my practice was still devoted to house calls, and would be for another decade. That meant almost daily trips in my red Mercedes to one or another of the surrounding farms or homesteads. On this day, a Tuesday, there were no house calls scheduled, and we had an hour's break before the next office appointment. It seemed the perfect time to take Mary on the tour of Pilgrim Memorial.

My long-time nurse April had married and moved to Maine the previous month. After a brief interlude with a replacement who didn't work out, I'd hired Mary. She was a young woman in her late twenties with bobbed blonde hair and a bright, smiling face. She'd been driving through Northmont on her way to a nursing position in Springfield when she found herself in the middle of a bank robbery. After she helped me solve a particularly vexing mystery connected with it, I'd asked her to stay on as my nurse. She'd declined at first but then reconsidered, and so far neither of us had regretted it.

"This is very well equipped for such a small hospital," Mary observed as she followed me into one of the two operating rooms.

"The place was built for eighty beds, and at the time they figured they'd need two operating rooms and all this equipment. But Northmont just didn't grow as fast as people expected."

"Who's in charge?"

"There's a regular board of directors, but the chief physician is Dr. Endlewise. He's a newcomer to Pilgrim—he's only been here a year. I'll introduce you."

We found Endlewise in his office. He was a short, slight man with a perpetual frown who seemed to me to be in the wrong line of work. I didn't much care for him, but I tried not to let my feelings show as I introduced him to Mary. "I'm taking her on a tour of the hospital," I explained.

Endlewise greeted her in a perfunctory manner and turned his attention to me. "Sam, if you have a few minutes, I'd like you to look at a patient who came in during the night. We need a second opinion. You can charge your regular consultant's fee."

"Glad to assist," I said. "Come along, Mary. You'll get a first-hand view of how Pilgrim Memorial operates."

As Dr. Endlewise led the way down a corridor, he filled us in on the case. "The patient's name is Hugh Streeter. He's up from New York looking into the possibility of restoring some of the abandoned farmhouses around here." Northmont hadn't been hit by the Depression as badly as some areas of the Midwest, with their added drought problems, but there were individual cases where farm families had abandoned their land to the banks and gone off to start a new life in the city.

"What's the diagnosis?" I asked.

"Based on the major symptom of painful constrictions below the sternum, typical of angina pectoris, I'd say the man is suffering from a coronary artery disease, probably arteriosclerosis. But there are some unusual aspects. He's relatively young and seems in good physical shape. What's more, some of the pain seems to be lower down, in the stomach area."

"Have you taken X-rays?"

"Of course, but they're inconclusive. You can see them if you like." He turned into a private room, where a dark-haired man in his thirties was resting in bed. He opened his eyes when he heard us enter and tried to sit up. "Just relax," Endlewise told him. "This is Dr. Hawthorne and his nurse, Miss Best. I wanted him to have a look at you."

Streeter extended his hand carefully, as if fearful the pain would return. He was almost handsome, though the smallness of his deep-set eyes gave an odd, calculating expression to his face. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor. Have you any idea what's wrong with me?"

"That's what we're here to find out," I told him.

I gave him a quick but thorough examination. Endlewise handed me the electrocardiogram they'd taken earlier. It was slightly irregular but not abnormally so. "Are you still having chest pains?"

"Not right now."

"What did you have to eat last night, Mr. Streeter, before your attack?"

"The seafood plate at the Magnolia Restaurant. I'm from New York and I was looking for a good place to eat."

The Magnolia sounded better than it was. I'd known people to get a bad meal there as often as a good one, and their seafood was questionable at best. I finished the examination and gave him a reassuring pat. "You seem in pretty good shape to me." I poured him a fresh glass of water from the

pitcher by his right hand. "Have a good rest tonight."

Outside in the hall, Dr. Endlewise asked, "Well?"

"It looks to me like an upset stomach, possibly a touch of food-poisoning. I don't believe his heart's involved at all."

"Just what I suspected. I'm going to suggest he be kept one more night for observation and then released."

"Whose patient is he?"

"He came in on his own. Jim Hayett saw him and had him admitted. You don't send anyone with chest pains home without a thorough examination."

I knew there was no love lost between Endlewise and young Hayett, and I hoped not to be involved in any dispute that might develop. Mary, who'd remained silent during my examination, spoke up as soon as Dr. Endlewise left us. "He seems more of a businessman than a physician," she commented.

"He's as much one as the other," I agreed. "Unfortunately, I may have given him fuel for his latest controversy with Dr. Hayett."

"Have I met him?"

I smiled at her. "You'd remember if you had. The nurses are all crazy about him."

"Oh?"

"If he worked last night, he's off duty now. You'll have to meet him later." I took her around to the nurses' station and introduced Anna Fitzgerald and Kathleen Rogers, the two nurses starting the four-o'clock shift. Anna was middle-aged and just a bit cynical. Kathleen was still in her early twenties, fresh out of nursing school, with all the idealism one would expect.

"They seem very nice," Mary remarked later. "Kathleen is so young."

I nodded. "I know I'm getting old when there are nurses who can't remember the World War."

"Well, I just barely remember it."

"You, too?" I groaned in mock despair. But my mind was still on Hugh Streeter. "Say, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

She studied me with her pretty blue eyes. "I didn't think you were one to mix business with pleasure."

"This may be all business and very little pleasure," I told her. "I want to check on the source of that possible food poisoning."

The Magnolia Restaurant was located just outside of Northmont, on the road to Shinn Corners. It could best be described as a road-house, one of several that had sprung up along country roads following the repeal of Prohibition. Though it offered a modicum of entertainment, no one would have dignified the place by calling it a nightclub. When we arrived shortly after seven, the parking lot was about half full. I recognized Sheriff Lens's car and remembered that he often took his wife Vera out to dinner on Tuesday nights.

On the way to our table, we stopped off to greet them. "Still like the job,

Mary," the sheriff asked with a grin, "or have you had enough of this fella?"

"I still like it," she assured him. "I think Northmont's going to be a lot more exciting than Springfield."

Vera paused over her salad, remarking, "I don't remember you taking April out to dinner, Sam."

"This is business," I assured her, then decided not to ruin their dinner by going further.

"What a friendly woman," Mary said when we were seated at our table.

"Vera's great," I said. "She used to be Northmont's postmistress but she's retired now."

We were halfway through our meal when the evening's entertainment began. A passable male singer was followed by a brisk young comedian, who produced a large-headed ventriloquist's dummy from a suitcase. He was billed as Larry Law and Lucy, and indeed the dummy was female. The falsetto voice he used for Lucy was both funny and convincing. But there was one thing about the dummy that troubled me. Our table was close enough to the constricted, elevated stage and I could see a dab of red beneath the dummy's right ear. Whatever it was—paint or lipstick, most likely—it gave the dummy the appearance of someone I knew. Someone back at the hospital, I thought.

It was a foolish observation and I didn't bother mentioning it to Mary. Instead, I concentrated on the reason for our visit. If there was any possibility of food poisoning at the Magnolia, I wanted to know about it. Mary had ordered fish and I'd chosen steak. Neither would win any prizes, but there seemed to be no hint of contamination. If Streeter had been felled by something he ate, it was probably a chance happening.

"There's the comedian," Mary said over dessert, gesturing toward Larry Law at the bar. She was the outgoing sort, as April had been, and when he walked past our table she said, "We enjoyed your act, Mr. Law."

"Thank you." He was around thirty, probably not too long in the business, and that was all the encouragement he needed to stop and chat. "Do you folks come here often?"

"It's my first time," Mary admitted. "But I'm new in Northmont."

"It seems like a nice town." He smiled at us. He had curly black hair and wore a bow tie that was purposely too big for his small face. "I've been here almost a month. I'll be moving on soon, unless they extend me. My agent in New York is working on a radio spot for me. Can you imagine, a ventriloquist on the radio? What's the point? But he says a fellow named Edgar Bergen has been on a few times and is getting popular."

"That's an interesting dummy you use," I said. "Did you make it yourself?"

"I designed it. A friend did the actual carving. I've always been good at female voices and I decided to give it a try."

"Are you staying in town?"

"The singer and I room together. The only trouble with the country is the same thing that's wrong with the city—I hate rats. Do you have many rats around here?"

"Not that I know of," I said. "What's the dab of paint on Lucy's neck for?"

Law chuckled. "A birthmark. It's a long story. Excuse me, will you? I have to get ready for the second show at ten."

The sheriff and Vera finished their dinner and departed with a wave to us. I was waiting for our check when the manager appeared at the microphone to announce that Larry Law and Lucy would not be performing at the second show.

"What do you think the trouble is?" Mary asked.

I got to my feet. "I'd better find out." I left money for the check and arranged to meet her at the car.

I had to walk through the kitchen to reach the small storeroom that doubled as a dressing room for the entertainers. Larry Law was sitting next to an open suitcase that held his brown-haired dummy, Lucy. "What

happened?" I asked. "Why can't you go on?"

"I came back and found her in the suitcase like this. I'm calling the police. Who'd want to do this to a dummy?"

A hammer lay on the floor nearby. Someone had used it to batter in the side of Lucy's wooden head.

In the morning, Mary was at her desk when I arrived. "Dr. Endlewise wants to see you as soon as possible," she informed me.

"He's starting to treat me like one of the staff," I said with a sigh.

"Have you had any more thoughts about what happened last night?"

"I don't know. I suppose someone in the audience took offense at one of the jokes, though they seemed harmless enough to me. You never know what's going to set people off."

Mary glanced at my appointment schedule. "You told Mrs. Fredericks you'd come by to see her son this morning."

I nodded. "Sounds like a routine case of chicken pox, but I'll drive over as soon as I finish with Endlewise."

The hospital director was in his office, looking harried. "Have you heard what happened last night, Sam?"

"I don't believe so."

"We're trying to keep it quiet. Someone got into Hugh Streeter's room around ten o'clock and tried to kill him."

"What?"

Dr. Endlewise nodded. "I couldn't believe it, either. He was asleep when it happened. Someone held a pillow over his face in an attempt to smother him."

I slumped into a chair. "You'd better tell me the whole story."

"Streeter was very restless in the evening. Kathleen Rogers was on duty and she obtained Dr. Hayett's permission to give the patient a mild sleeping powder. He dozed off almost immediately and she returned to the nurses' station. This all happened around nine o'clock. Kathleen says she was busy with other patients for the next hour, putting them to bed, administering medication, and so forth."

"Wasn't Anna Fitzgerald on duty, too? I saw them both earlier in the day, at the start of the shift."

"Anna was in and out. One of the patients needed an X-ray and there was no one else to wheel him down to Radiology." "Go on," I urged.

"About ten o'clock, when Kathleen was back at her station, she heard a crash from Streeter's room. A pitcher had been upset and fallen to the floor. She ran in and found a pillow pressed down over his face. There were still hand marks on it. But there was no one else in the room."

"Perhaps he turned over in his sleep and got his head under the pillow accidentally."

Dr. Endlewise shook his head. "This was a second pillow he asked Kathleen to take away. She left it on a chair across the room. As I said, there were marks of its having been pressed down over his face."

"Did Streeter remember anything?"

"Only the sensation of smothering. It woke him from his drugged sleep and he remembers flailing out with his arms and hitting the water pitcher. The sound of it breaking saved his life."

"But how could the would-be killer get out of the room without being seen by Kathleen?"

"We haven't figured that out." Endlewise hesitated and added, "I know you've had experience in these matters, Sam."

"Have you notified Sheriff Lens?"

"We'd rather not. Streeter seems all right this morning, and he's inclined to think it was just a bad dream he was having."

"I'll want to speak with both nurses."

"Certainly. Both of them are working the four-to-midnight shift again today, but I asked Kathleen to come in early to help with the investigation.

She should be here right after lunch."

"I can't promise to discover anything you don't know already," I told him.

At one o'clock, I found Kathleen Rogers finishing lunch in the hospital cafeteria. I got myself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. "How are you today, Dr. Sam?" she greeted me.

"Doing well, Kathleen. Dr. Endlewise asked me to look into what happened with one of your patients last night."

"Hugh Streeter?"

"Yes. You say someone tried to kill him."

"I'm sure of it."

"How could anyone have entered his room without your being aware of it?"

She was a large-boned, handsome young woman with the sort of commitment that was necessary in a good nurse. She spoke in a precise manner that begged for belief. "You know the layout, Doctor. The patient's room is down the hall from the nursing station. I can't see the door from my desk. Visitors have to pass by me, but often I'm away from the station or otherwise occupied and don't see where they go. And there's a fire exit at the end of the corridor that must be kept unlocked at all times. Anyone could have entered or left that way."

"But you heard the glass break and you started down the hall at once?"

"Yes. Mr. Streeter was alone. The bathroom door was open. I saw no one leave the room. As I've said, anyone might have entered or left through the fire exit, but I saw no one."

"How do you explain that?"

She shrugged. "I can't. All I know is there were handprints on the pillow where it had been pressed over Mr. Streeter's face."

"What about Anna Fitzgerald? Did she see anything?"

"No, I—" She hesitated, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

"I haven't seen her since it happened."

"Haven't seen her at all?"

"Dr. Sam, she's my superior. I don't want to get her in trouble." "You'd better tell me what you know," I told her gently.

"Well, for the last few weeks she's been leaving early some nights before her shift ends. If things are quiet, she leaves around ten-thirty or eleven and

I cover for her. I think she's meeting someone."

"She did this last night?"

"I didn't see her after ten o'clock, after the trouble with Mr. Streeter."

"Did she tell you she was leaving early?"

"No, and that was odd."

"I'll have to tell Dr. Endlewise about this." She looked unhappy, but didn't argue.

"One other thing, Kathleen. Tell me about the pillow. I understand it wasn't on the bed."

"Mr. Streeter had me remove it when I brought him his sleeping powder around nine o'clock. He said he'd sleep better with just one pillow, so I put it on the chair by the window."

"Anna's disappearance after the attack on Streeter would seem very suspicious. Can you think of any reason she might have tried to smother him?"

"No! She's a nurse, Dr. Sam."

I could see I was upsetting her and I finished my coffee and left.

As I was heading back toward my office wing, I spotted Jim Hayett standing by the locked door of operating room #2, peering tensely through the oval window. "Sam!" he called to me. "Could that be a body in there?"

I glanced through the window in the adjoining door. Though the room had no real windows, enough daylight came through the glass brick sections in the far wall to reveal a sheet-covered figure on a gurney next to the operating table. I looked at the locked deadbolt holding the two swinging doors closed. "I'll get the key," I told him.

Most times, Pilgrim Memorial had little use for two operating rooms, and the second one was kept locked. Endlewise carried the one key with him on his ring. I found him in his office and told him what we'd seen.

"Impossible," he said. "That room hasn't been used in nearly a month." But he got quickly to his feet and followed me out of the office. When we reached the operating-room doors, he frowned as he peered through the portholes, then used his key to unlock the bolt. Hayett and I entered the room on either side of him, pushing open both swinging doors.

It was Endlewise who lifted the sheet and exposed the body of the missing nurse, Anna Fitzgerald.

At my side, Hayett gasped, but somehow I wasn't surprised. I'd almost expected it since the moment he'd pointed out the gurney and its odd cargo.

Anna had been dead since the previous night, and I'd never bought the suggestion that she'd left duty two hours early without telling Kathleen. "Look at those bruises on her throat," Endlewise said, his voice barely a whisper. "She's been strangled."

I was looking at something else. Her long brown hair had fallen away from her neck and I could see the small birthmark beneath her right ear, in the same position as the dab of paint under the ear of Larry Law's dummy. I remembered noticing it before at some time and half remembering it at the Magnolia last night.

"We'd better phone Sheriff Lens," Jim Hayett was saying. I glanced around at the four walls, broken only by the glass bricks and a small storage closet, which we quickly examined. We'd just used the room's only entrance, and the key to it had been on Endlewise's ring. Either Endlewise himself had strangled her, which seemed highly unlikely, or the killer had left the room the same way he left Hugh Streeter's hospital room, without being seen by Kathleen.

I was in my office later when Sheriff Lens stopped by. He'd examined the body and talked with the others. Now it was my turn.

"You know anything about this Fitzgerald killing, Doc?"

"Some background, but nothing much that will help you," I told him and ran through the events of the previous evening at Pilgrim Memorial.

The sheriff thought for a moment. "Sounds as if Anna Fitzgerald surprised someone trying to smother Hugh Streeter and got herself killed for it." Then he added, "Funny thing. You know that ventriloquist we saw at the Magnolia last night?"

"Larry Law and Lucy?"

"That's the one. He called in with a complaint. Someone broke into his dressing room between shows and battered the dummy's head with a hammer. What do you think of that?"

"Mary and I were still there when it happened," I told him, adding what little I knew.

After the sheriff left, I went out and filled Mary in on the latest developments. "You know, Larry Law never did explain about that dab of paint on the dummy's neck," she said. "It's a slow afternoon here. Why

don't I drive out to the Magnolia and ask him about it?" "Would he be there this early?"

"I'll track him down," she assured me.

I'd been thinking about Law myself, but the one I really wanted to question was Hugh Streeter. "Go to it," I told her. "But be careful. If he acts in the least bit odd, get away from there quickly."

"Do you think he's a suspect? It was nearly ten o'clock when we were with him in his dressing room. Wasn't that the same time Streeter was attacked and Anna Fitzgerald disappeared?"

"I know. I'm not happy about any of it. Everyone seems to have an alibi of some sort. Dr. Endlewise has the only key to the operating room and Sheriff Lens just told me he's confirmed that Endlewise was home with his family all evening. If you learn anything helpful from Larry Law, I'll be grateful."

I closed up the office, leaving word at the hospital admissions desk as to where I could be found. Then I went down the hall to Hugh Streeter's room. He was sitting up in bed, looking pretty good. "How are you doing today?" I asked.

"Okay, I guess. I met you yesterday, didn't I?"

"Yes. Dr. Endlewise asked me in for an opinion on your case."

"I thought Dr. Hayett was caring for me."

"We're all looking after you," I assured him. "I came about what happened last night. I understand there was a pillow over your face."

"I don't know how it happened. The nurse had given me a sleeping powder and I'd dozed off. First thing I knew, there was pressure on my face and I couldn't breathe. I thrashed out and knocked a pitcher off the table. Luckily, that brought the nurse." He held up his left wrist. "I got cut from the glass."

It was a mere scratch, not enough to bandage. "Do you think someone tried to kill you?"

"At first I thought the whole thing was a dream, but now I don't know. Nurse Rogers was just in and told me someone killed the other night nurse." He avoided my eyes, but I could see the news had disturbed him. I decided on a long shot.

"Mr. Streeter, was the other night nurse, Anna Fitzgerald, somehow related to you?"

"Related to me? I never saw her before I was admitted here."

"Nevertheless, I can see a resemblance between the two of you, especially around the mouth. It makes me wonder—"

Streeter moistened his lips. "I'm not sure. She might have been my half sister."

I sat on the edge of his bed. "You'd better tell me about it."

"My mother was married before. She told me once she had a daughter by her first marriage who was a few years older than me. But I never met her."

"Did you think she might be here in Northmont?"

He sighed. "I'd better start at the beginning. My mother died last year. She told me before she died that she was leaving nearly a thousand acres of property in her will to me and my half sister Anna. The land is here in Northmont, where she lived when Anna was a baby. I came here last week to inspect the property, and by a crazy chance I ended up here in the hospital where she worked as a nurse. I wasn't sure until I noticed a

birthmark on her neck. My mother had told me about that."

"Did you tell her who you were?"

"I never had the opportunity. I never saw her after the time I noticed the birthmark."

I stood up. "One more question. Who is Larry Law?" "I don't believe I know the man," he said, looking puzzled.

"Larry Law and Lucy?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. I can't help you." "Thank you, Mr. Streeter." I started to leave.

"Is it true I can leave today, Doctor? Dr. Hayett says he can't find anything wrong with me."

"You certainly didn't have a heart attack. We suspected some sort of food poisoning, but I think that's been ruled out, too."

"As long as I can get out of here," Streeter said with a smile, "I don't care what it was . . ."

I'd hardly reopened my office when Sheriff Lens poked his head in.

"Where's that cute nurse of yours, Doc?"

"She went out to the Magnolia to talk with Larry Law."

"She's playin' detective now, huh?"

"She might come up with something we missed," I challenged him.

The sheriff sat down. "I already came up with what we missed, Sam.

I know what the Larry Law link is."

"What do you mean?"

"The birthmarks. He painted that red spot on the dummy's neck so she'd look like Anna Fitzgerald. You musta noticed that both Anna and the dummy had the same color hair."

"So she'd look like Anna." I repeated the words slowly, trying to make sense of them. "Why would he?" And then it all came together. "Of course! She was leaving her job early so she could meet Law after his second show at the Magnolia—he's the mysterious boy friend!"

"You got it, Sam. The Magnolia owner confirmed that she's been comin' around the last few weeks, ever since she met Law near the beginning of his engagement."

"But Larry Law couldn't have killed her if he was out at the restaurant."

"It wouldn't seem so," Sheriff Lens agreed. "I got a preliminary autopsy report that indicates she was strangled manually somewhere around ten o'clock last night, give or take an hour. The fingermarks show that the killer was in front of her when he did it, lookin' her right in the eyes."

"So that lets Law off the hook."

"Maybe not. Let me try this one on you, Sam. Larry Law battered his own dummy so he'd have an excuse for canceling the second show, then he drove in here and strangled Anna because of some lovers' quarrel, or because he was tired of her and she wouldn't let go. Then he tried smothering Streeter just to confuse us."

"But how did he get into the operating room?" I said. "How'd he vanish so easily from Streeter's room?"

"I gotta admit I'm stumped there. Dr. Endlewise has the only key and he was home with his family. As for the attack on Streeter, all I can think of is maybe Nurse Rogers isn't telling the truth."

But I wasn't satisfied. "Think about this a minute, Sheriff. Why should

Larry Law go to all the trouble of canceling his second show so that he could get down here and strangle Anna at the hospital when he could have waited for her to come to him, as she did most nights? The remote area

around the Magnolia is a far more private place for a murder."

Before Sheriff Lens could respond, Mary Best walked in. "Have you solved the mystery yet?"

"No," I told her. "Have you?"

"Part of it," she said. "Larry Law lied about the whole thing. He bashed in his own dummy's head. It wasn't too great a loss—he always travels with

an identical spare Lucy when he's on the road."

Sheriff Lens glowed in triumph. "What did I tell you, Sam?"

My mouth must have dropped open. "You mean he bashed the dummy as an excuse to cancel the second show?"

"Of course not," Mary responded, puzzled by my question. "He did it because two nights ago, after his show, a stranger came to his dressing room and gave him a thousand dollars in cash to do it."

"What?"

"Exactly. He was paid to smash his own dummy—and for that much money he didn't ask questions. He did it and then reported the vandalism to the police just as he'd been instructed."

I reached a quick decision. "Can you bring him here, Mary?"

She smiled. "He's waiting outside in my car."

I snatched up the telephone and called Dr. Endlewise's office. His secretary informed me he'd gone with Dr. Hayett for a final look at Hugh Streeter before releasing him.

I hung up. "Come on!" I told the sheriff. "There isn't a minute to lose! Mary, bring Larry Law and meet me in Streeter's room!"

It had all come together for me at last, the locked operating room, the broken glass, the strangled nurse. When we reached Streeter's room, we found Endlewise and Hayett chatting with him while he dressed. All three looked up as we entered with Larry Law.

The ventriloquist didn't hesitate. He held out his hand and said, "It's good to see you again. I did just what you said with the dummy. I earned my thousand dollars."

Hugh Streeter tried to run, but his pants were only partway on and tripped him up at the door.

"You have to look at the crime from Streeter's viewpoint," I said later back in my office with Mary, the sheriff, and Endlewise. "He'd inherited some potentially valuable land but had to share it with a half sister he'd never met. He decided he'd rather kill her and have it all for himself. His mother had told him more than he admitted, and he knew Anna Fitzgerald was a nurse at this hospital, and that she had a birthmark. But if he simply came up here and killed her, he'd be among the leading suspects because of the inheritance. So what should he do?"

"This better be good," Sheriff Lens muttered. "There's an awful lot unexplained in this case."

I ignored the interruption. "He'd already planned to fake a heart attack and get himself admitted here. By luck, two nights ago he was dining alone at the Magnolia Restaurant when he spotted the dummy with a dab of paint like a birthmark. Somehow, probably from one of the waitresses, he learned that the birthmark was supposed to make the dummy look like the ventriloquist's current flame, a local nurse. So he offered Law a thousand dollars to bash the dummy's head with a hammer the following night between shows. It wasn't a big thing for Law because he had a spare dummy—he didn't realize he was being set up as a murder suspect."

"I'm not surprised about faking the heart attack," Endlewise said. "I was suspicious about that from the start. But how could he kill Anna? He never left his room."

"That was the key to his whole plan. He knew he'd be kept in the hospital for observation, and when Kathleen brought him the sleeping powder last evening he simply emptied the glass into his water pitcher, first distracting her attention by asking her to move his extra pillow to a chair. When Anna came in later to check on him, he took her by surprise somehow and

managed to strangle her before she could make a sound." "But the body—" Mary protested.

"He hid it in his bathtub, behind the shower curtain. He left the door open, taking a chance Kathleen would think the bathroom was empty and wouldn't check it further. Then he returned to bed, pushing the second pillow down over his face, and upsetting the water pitcher to summon help —also cleverly disposing of the remains of the sleeping powder."

"All right," Endlewise said. "How did he get her from the bathtub into a locked operating room at the other end of the building?"

"He waited until after midnight and carried her down the hall to the unlocked fire exit, then around the building and in one of the exits near the operating rooms. Room #2 was never really locked, you see. The bolt was engaged but those are swinging doors. One door must be anchored with bolts into the floor and top of the door frame before swinging doors can be truly locked—otherwise, if both doors are pushed inward together the bolt disengages and the doors open. Try it yourself if you don't believe me. After leaving the body on the gurney inside, he carefully closed the swinging doors together until the bolt in one door engaged the slot in the opposite door once again. When I thought about it, I knew that was what happened. We never tried simply pushing the doors open, but after you unlocked the bolt, Dr. Endlewise, Hayett and I each pushed open a swinging door, proving neither one was anchored to the floor by another bolt."

Sheriff Lens snorted. "You're telling me Streeter was lucky enough that no one found her body in the shower, no one saw him carry her out the fire exit, and he found the operating room unlocked. That's a lot of luck!"

"All murderers take chances, Sheriff. Maybe he noticed those swinging doors earlier, on the way to his room. Maybe he had some other hiding place in mind. But he wasn't so lucky. We caught him in less than twentyfour hours, didn't we?"

"How'd you know?" Mary asked.

"Streeter showed me a scratch on his left wrist and said he got it when he knocked over the water pitcher. But he was on his back at the time of the supposed pillow attack, and when I examined him yesterday I remember the pitcher being by his right hand, not his left. I think Anna scratched him as he strangled her and he tried to cover it with that lie. And the pitcher didn't break until it hit the floor, so knocking it with his wrist wouldn't have scratched him, anyway.

"Then there was the matter of Larry Law. In trying to confuse us with the dummy business and call the sheriff's attention to Larry as a suspect, Streeter was being too clever for his own good. When I mentioned Larry's name, he denied he ever heard of him. Yet he told us he ate at the Magnolia the previous night, the same night a stranger offered Larry money to batter his dummy."

When both the sheriff and Dr. Endlewise departed, it was my turn to ask

Mary Best a question. "How'd you get the truth out of Larry Law so fast?" I wanted to know.

She grinned at me. "Remember his fear of rats? I told him the county jail was full of them."

"It was one of my most complicated cases," Dr. Sam concluded, "but the solution came quicker than I'd expected. That wasn't true of my next case, which involved me personally and threatened my very right to practice medicine. But that's for next time."