Philo Vance Omnibus Vol 2

by S. S. Van Dine

  In the study Vance went directly to the point.

  "Doctor, the time has come when we must be perfectly frank with each other. The usual conventional considerations of your profession must be temporarily put aside. A matter far more urgent is involved now, and it requires more serious consideration than the accepted relationship between doctor and patient. Therefore, I shall be altogether candid with you and trust that you can see your way to being equally candid with me."

  Siefert, who had taken a chair near the door, looked at Vance a trifle uneasily.

  "I regret that I do not understand what you mean," he said in his suavest manner.

  "I merely mean," replied Vance coolly, "that I am fully aware that it was you who sent me the anonymous telephone message Friday night."

  Siefert raised his eyebrows slightly.

  "Indeed! That's very interesting."

  "Not only interestin'," drawled Vance, "but true. How I know it was you need not concern us at the moment. I only beg of you to admit that it is so, and to act accordingly. The fact has a direct bearing on this tragic case, and unless you will assist us with a frank statement, a grave injustice may be done—an injustice that could not be squared with any existing code of medical ethics."

  Siefert hesitated for several moments. He withdrew his eyes hastily from Vance and looked thoughtfully out of the window toward the west.

  "Assuming, for the sake of argument," he said with deliberation, like a man carefully choosing his words, "that it was I who phoned you Friday night, what then?"

  Vance watched the man with a faint smile.

  "It might be, don't y' know," he said, "that you were cognizant of the situation here, and that you had a suspicion—or let us say, a fear— that something tragic was impending." Vance took out his cigarette case and lighted a cigarette. "I fully understood the import of that message, doctor—as you intended. That is why I happened to be here yesterday afternoon. The significance of your reference to the Aeneid and the inclusion of the word `equanimity' did not escape me. I must say, however, that your advice to investigate radioactive sodium was not entirely clear—although I think I now have a fairly lucid idea as to the implication. However, there were some deeper implications in your message, and this is the time, d' ye see, when we should face this thing together with complete honesty."

  Siefert brought his eyes back to Vance in a long appraising glance, and then shifted them to the window again. After a minute or two he stood up, clasped his hands behind him, and strode across the room. He looked out over the Hudson with troubled concern. Then he turned and, nodding as if in answer to some question he had put to himself, said:

  "Yes, I did send you that message. Perhaps I was not entirely loyal to my principles when I did so, for I had little doubt that you would guess who sent it and would understand what I was trying to convey to you. But I realize that nothing can be gained now by not being frank with you...The situation in this household has bothered me for a long time, and lately I've had a sense of imminent disaster, All of the factors of late have been ripening for this final outburst. And I felt so strongly about them that I could not resist sending an anonymous message to you, in the hope that the vague eventualities I anticipated might be averted."

  "How long have you felt this vague premonition?" asked Vance.

  "For the past three months, I should say. Although I have acted as the Gardens' physician for many years, it was not until last fall that Mrs. Garden's changing condition came to my notice. I thought little of it at first, but, as it grew worse and I found myself unable to diagnose it satisfactorily, a curious suspicion forced itself on me that the change was not entirely natural. I began coming here much more frequently than had been my custom, and during the last couple of months I had felt many subtle undercurrents in the various relationships of the household, which I had never sensed before. Of course, I knew that Floyd and Swift never got along particularly well— that there was some deep animosity and jealousy between them. I also knew the conditions of Mrs. Garden's will. Furthermore, I knew of the gambling on the horses that had become part of the daily routine here. Neither Floyd nor Woode kept anything from me—you see, I have always been their confidant as well as their physician—and their reactions toward their personal affairs—which, unfortunately, included horse-racing—were well known to me."

  Siefert paused with a frown.

  "As I say, it has been only recently that I have felt something deeper and more significant in all this interplay of temperaments; and this feeling grew to such proportions that I actually feared a violent climax of some kind—especially as Floyd told me only a few days ago that his cousin intended to stake his entire remaining funds on Equanimity in the big race yesterday. So overpowering was my feeling in regard to the whole situation here that I decided to do something about it, if I could manage it without divulging any professional confidences. But you saw through my subterfuge, and, to be wholly candid with you, I'm rather glad you did."

  Vance nodded. "I appreciate your scruples in the matter, doctor. I only regret that I was unable to forestall these tragedies. That, as it happened, was beyond human power." Vance looked up quickly. "By the by, doctor, did you have any definite suspicions when you phoned me Friday night?"

  Siefert shook his head with emphasis. "No. Frankly, I was baffled. I merely felt that some sort of explosion was imminent. But I hadn't the slightest idea in what quarter that explosion would occur."

  "Can you say from what quarter the causes for your apprehension arose?"

  "No. Nor can I say whether my feeling had to do with Mrs. Garden's state of health alone, or whether I was influenced also by the subtle antagonism between Floyd and Woode Swift. I asked myself the question many times, without finding a satisfactory answer. At times, however, I could not resist the impression that the two factors were in some way closely related. Hence my phone message, in which, by inference, I called your attention to both Mrs. Garden's peculiar illness and the tense atmosphere that had developed round the daily betting on the races."

  Vance smoked a while in silence. "And now, doctor, will you be so good as to give us the full details about this morning?"

  Siefert drew himself up in his chair.

  "There's practically nothing to add to the information I gave you over the phone. Miss Beeton called me a little after eight o'clock and informed me that Mrs. Garden had died some time during the night. She asked for instructions, and I told her that I would come at once. I was here half an hour or so later. I could find no determinable cause for Mrs. Garden's death, and assumed it might have been her heart until Miss Beeton called my attention to the fact that the bottle of medicine sent by the druggist was empty..."

  "By the by, doctor, what was the prescription you made out for your patient last night?"

  "A simple barbital solution."

  "Why did you not prescribe one of the ordin'ry barbiturate compounds?"

  "Why should I?" Siefert asked with obvious annoyance. "I always prefer to know exactly what my patient is getting. I'm old-fashioned enough to take little stock in proprietary mixtures."

  "And I believe you told me on the telephone that there was sufficient barbital in the prescription to have caused death."

  "Yes." The doctor nodded. "If taken at one time."

  "And Mrs. Garden's death was consistent with barbital poisoning?"

  "There was nothing to contradict such a conclusion," Siefert answered. "And there was nothing to indicate any other cause."

  "When did the nurse discover the empty bottle?"

  "Not until after she had phoned me, I believe."

  "Could the taste of the solution be detected if it were given to a person without his knowledge?"

  "Yes—and no," the doctor replied judicially. "The taste is a bit acrid; but it is a colorless solution, like water, and if it were drunk fast the taste might go unnoticed."

  Vance nodded. "Therefore, if the solution had been poured into a glass and water had been added, Mrs. Garde
n might conceivably have drunk it all without complaining about the bitter taste?"

  "That's wholly possible," the doctor told him. "And I cannot help feeling that something of that kind took place last night. It was because of this conclusion that I called you immediately."

  Vance, smoking lazily, was watching Siefert from under speculative eyelids. Moving slightly in his chair and crushing out his cigarette in a small jade ash tray at his side, he said:

  "Tell me something of Mrs. Garden's illness, doctor, and why radioactive sodium should have suggested itself to you."

  Siefert brought his eyes sharply back to Vance.

  "I was afraid you would ask me that. But this is no time for squeamishness. I must trust wholly to your discretion." He paused, as if determining how he might best approach a matter which was obviously distasteful to him. "As I've already said, I don't know the exact nature of Mrs. Garden's ailment. The symptoms have been very much like those accompanying radium poisoning. But I have never prescribed any of the radium preparations for her—I am, in fact, profoundly skeptical of their efficacy. As you may know, we have had many untoward results from the haphazard, unscientific administration of these radium preparations."[26]

  He cleared his throat before continuing.

  "One evening while reading the reports of the researches made in California on radioactive sodium, or what might be called artificial radium, which has been heralded as a possible medium of cure for cancer, I suddenly realized that Professor Garden himself was actively interested in this particular line of research and had done some very creditable work in the field. The realization was purely a matter of association, and I gave it little thought at first. But the idea persisted, and before long some very unpleasant possibilities began to force themselves upon me."

  Again the doctor paused, a troubled look on his face.

  "About two months ago I suggested to Doctor Garden that, if it were at all feasible, he put Miss Beeton on his wife's case. I had already come to the conclusion that Mrs. Garden required more constant attention and supervision than I could afford her, and Miss Beeton, who is a registered nurse, had, for the past year or so, been working with Doctor Garden in his laboratory—in fact, it was I who had sent her to him when he mentioned his need of a laboratory assistant. I was particularly anxious to have her take Mrs. Garden's case, rather than some other nurse, for I felt that from her observations some helpful suggestions might result. The girl had been on several difficult cases of mine, and I was wholly familiar with her competency and discretion."

  "And have Miss Beeton's subsequent observations been helpful to you, doctor?" asked Vance.

  "No, I can't say that they have," Siefert admitted, "despite the fact that Doctor Garden still availed himself of her services occasionally in the laboratory, thereby giving her an added opportunity of keeping an eye on the entire situation. But, on the other hand, neither have they tended to dissipate my suspicions."

  "I say, doctor," Vance asked after a moment, "could this new radioactive sodium be administered to a person without his knowing it?"

  "Oh, quite easily," Siefert assured him. "It could, for instance, be substituted in a shaker for ordinary salt and there would be nothing to arouse the slightest suspicion."

  "And in quantities sufficient to produce the effects of radium poisoning?"

  "Undoubtedly."

  "And how long would it be before the effects of such administrations proved fatal?"

  "That's impossible to say."

  Vance was studying the tip of his cigarette. Presently he asked: "Has the nurse's presence in the house resulted in any information regarding the general situation here?"

  "Nothing that I had not already known. In fact, her observations have merely substantiated my own conclusions. It's quite possible, too, that she herself may unwittingly have augmented the animosity between young Garden and Swift, for she has intimated to me once or twice that Swift had annoyed her occasionally with his attentions; and I have a very strong suspicion that she is personally interested in Floyd Garden."

  Vance looked up with augmented interest.

  "What, specifically, has given you that impression, doctor?"

  "Nothing specific," Siefert told him. "I have, however, observed them together on several occasions, and my impression was that some sentiment existed there. Nothing that I can put my finger on, though. But one night when I was walking up Riverside Drive I happened to see them together in the park—undoubtedly a stroll together."

  "By the by, doctor, have young Garden and the nurse been acquainted only since she came here to take care of his mother?"

  "Oh, no," said Siefert. "But their previous acquaintance was, I imagine, more or less casual. You see, during the time Miss Beeton was Doctor Garden's laboratory assistant she had frequent occasion to come to the apartment here, to work with the professor in his study— stenographic notes and transcription, records, and the like. And she naturally became acquainted with Floyd and Woode Swift and Mrs. Garden herself..."

  The nurse appeared at the door at that moment to announce the arrival of the Medical Examiner, and Vance asked her to bring Doctor Doremus up to the study.

  "I might suggest," said Siefert quickly, "that, with your consent, it would be possible to have the Medical Examiner accept my verdict of death due to an accidental overdose of barbital and avoid the additional unpleasantness of an autopsy."

  "Oh, quite." Vance nodded. "That was my intention." He turned to the District Attorney. "All things considered, Markham," he said, "I think that might be best. There's nothing to be gained from an autopsy. We have enough facts, I think, to proceed without it. Undoubtedly Mrs. Garden's death was caused by the barbital solution. The radioactive sodium is a separate and distinct issue."

  Markham nodded in reluctant acquiescence as Doremus was led into the room by Miss Beeton. The Medical Examiner was in vile humor and complained bitterly about having been summoned personally on a Sunday morning. Vance placated him somewhat and introduced him to Doctor Siefert. After a brief interchange of explanations and comments Doremus readily agreed to Markham's suggestion that the case be regarded as resulting from an overdose of barbital solution.

  Doctor Siefert rose and looked hesitantly at Vance. "You will not need me further, I trust."

  "Not at the moment, doctor." Vance rose also and bowed formally. "We may, however, communicate with you later. Again our thanks for your help and your candor...Sergeant, will you accompany Doctor Siefert and Doctor Doremus below and take care of any necess'ry details...And, Miss Beeton, please sit down for a moment. There are a few questions I want to ask you."

  The girl came forward and seated herself in the nearest chair, as the three men went down the passageway.

  15. THREE VISITORS

  (Sunday, April 15; 10:45 a.m.)

  "I don't mean to trouble you unduly, Miss Beeton," said Vance; "but we should like to have a firsthand account of the circumstances surrounding the death of Mrs. Garden."

  "I wish there was something definite I could tell you," the nurse replied readily in a business-like manner, "but all I know is that when I arose this morning, a little after seven, Mrs. Garden seemed to be sleeping quietly. After dressing I went to the dining-room and had my breakfast; and then I took a tray in to Mrs. Garden. She always had tea and toast at eight o'clock, no matter how late she may have retired the night before. It wasn't until I had drawn up the shades and closed the windows, that I realized something was wrong. I spoke to her and she didn't answer me; and when I tried to rouse her I got no response. I saw then that she was dead. I called Doctor Siefert at once, and he came over as quickly as he could."

  "You sleep, I believe, in Mrs. Garden's room?"

  The nurse inclined her head. "Yes. You see, Mrs. Garden frequently needed some small service in the night."

  "Had she required your attention at any time during the night?"

  "No. The injection Doctor Siefert gave her before he left her seemed to have quieted her and she was
sleeping peacefully when I went out—"

  "You went out last night?...What time did you leave the house?" asked Vance.

  "About nine o'clock. Mr. Floyd Garden suggested it, assuring me that he would be here and that he thought I needed a little rest. I was very glad of the opportunity, for I was really fatigued and unnerved."

  "Had you no professional qualms about leaving a sick patient at such a time?"

  "Ordinarily I might have had," the girl returned resentfully; "but Mrs. Garden had never shown me any consideration. She was the most selfish person I ever knew. Anyway, I explained to Mr. Floyd Garden about giving his mother a teaspoonful of the medicine if she should wake up and show any signs of restlessness. And then I went out into the park."

  "At what time did you return, Miss Beeton?"

  "It must have been about eleven," she told him. "I hadn't intended to stay out so long, but the air was invigorating, and I walked along the river almost to Grant's tomb. When I got back I went immediately to bed."

  "Mrs. Garden was asleep when you came in?" The girl turned her eyes to Vance before answering.

  "I—I thought—she was asleep," she said hesitantly. "Her color was all right. But perhaps—even then—"

  "Yes, yes. I know," Vance put in quickly. "However..." He inspected his cigarette for a moment. "By the by, did you notice anything changed—anything, let us say, out of place—in the room, on your return?"

  The nurse shook her head slowly.

  "No. Everything seemed the same to me. The windows and shades were just as I had left them, and—Wait, there was something. The glass I had left on the night-table with drinking water was empty. I refilled it before going to bed."

  Vance looked up quickly. "And the bottle of medicine?"

  "I didn't particularly notice that; but it must have been just as I had left it, for I remember a fleeting sense of relief because Mrs. Garden hadn't needed a dose of the medicine."