CHAPTER 19
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
(Friday, September 14; 2 P.M.)
We lunched in the district attorney’s private sanctum; and at two o’clock Doctor Lindquist was announced. Heath accompanied him, and, from the expression on the sergeant’s face, it was plain he did not at all like his companion.
The doctor, at Markham’s request, seated himself facing the district attorney’s desk.
“What is the meaning of this new outrage?” he demanded coldly. “Is it your prerogative to force a citizen to leave his private affairs in order to be bullied?”
“It’s my duty to bring murderers to justice,” replied Markham, with equal coldness. “And if any citizen considers that giving aid to the authorities is an outrage, that’s his prerogative. If you have anything to fear by answering my questions, Doctor, you are entitled to have your attorney present. Would you care to phone him to come here now and give you legal protection?”
Doctor Lindquist hesitated. “I need no legal protection, sir. Will you be good enough to tell me at once why I was brought here?”
“Certainly; to explain a few points which have been discovered regarding your relationship with Miss Odell, and to elucidate—if you care to—your reasons for deceiving me, at our last conference, in regard to that relationship.”
“You have, I infer, been prying unwarrantably into my private affairs. I had heard that such practices were once common in Russia.…”
“If the prying was unwarranted, you can, Doctor Lindquist, easily convince me on that point; and whatever we may have learned concerning you will be instantly forgotten. It is true, is it not, that your interest in Miss Odell went somewhat beyond mere paternal affection?”
“Are not even a man’s sacred sentiments respected by the police of this country?” There was insolent scorn in the doctor’s tone.
“Under some conditions, yes; under others, no.” Markham controlled his fury admirably. “You need not answer me, of course; but, if you choose to be frank, you may possibly save yourself the humiliation of being questioned publicly by the people’s attorney in a court of law.”
Doctor Lindquist winced and considered the matter at some length. “And if I admit that my affection for Miss Odell was other than paternal—what then?”
Markham accepted the question as an affirmation.
“You were intensely jealous of her, were you not, Doctor?”
“Jealousy,” Doctor Lindquist remarked, with an air of ironic professionalism, “is not an unusual accompaniment to an infatuation. Authorities such as Kraft-Ebing, Moll, Freud, Ferenczi, and Adler, I believe, regard it as an intimate psychological corollary of amatory attraction.”
“Most instructive.” Markham nodded his head appreciatively. “I am to assume, then, that you were infatuated with—or, let us say, amatorily attracted by—Miss Odell, and that on occasions you exhibited the intimate psychological corollary of jealousy?”
“You may assume what you please. But I fail to understand why my emotions are any of your affair.”
“Had your emotions not led you to highly questionable and suspicious acts, I would not be interested in them. But I have it on unimpeachable authority that your emotions so reacted on your better judgment that you threatened to take Miss Odell’s life and also your own. And, in view of the fact that the young woman has since been murdered, the law naturally—and reasonably—is curious.”
The doctor’s normally pale face seemed to turn yellow, and his long splay fingers tightened over the arms of his chair; but otherwise he sat immobile and rigidly dignified, his eyes fixed intently on the district attorney.
“I trust,” added Markham, “you will not augment my suspicions by any attempt at denial.”
Vance was watching the man closely. Presently he leaned forward.
“I say, Doctor, what method of extermination did you threaten Miss Odell with?”
Doctor Lindquist jerked round, thrusting his head toward Vance. He drew in a long rasping breath, and his whole frame became tense. Blood suffused his cheeks; and there was a twitching of the muscles about his mouth and throat. For a moment I was afraid he was going to lose his self-control. But after a moment’s effort he steadied himself.
“You think perhaps I threatened to strangle her?” His words were vibrant with the intensity of his passionate anger. “And you would like to turn my threat into a noose to hang me?—Paugh!” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had become calmer. “It is quite true I once inadvisedly attempted to frighten Miss Odell with a threat to kill her and to commit suicide. But if your information is as accurate as you would have me believe, you are aware that I threatened her with a revolver. It is the weapon, I believe, that is conventionally mentioned when making empty threats. I certainly would not have threatened her with thuggee, even had I contemplated so abominable an act.”
“True,” nodded Vance. “And it’s a rather good point, don’t y’ know.”
The doctor was evidently encouraged by Vance’s attitude. He again faced Markham and elaborated his confession. “A threat, I presume you know, is rarely the forerunner of a violent deed. Even a brief study of the human mind would teach you that a threat is prima facie evidence of one’s innocence. A threat, generally, is made in anger, and acts as its own safety valve.” He shifted his eyes. “I am not a married man; my emotional life has not been stabilized, as it were; and I am constantly coming in close contact with hypersensitive and overwrought people. During a period of abnormal susceptibility I conceived an infatuation for the young woman, an infatuation which she did not reciprocate—certainly not with an ardor commensurate with my own. I suffered deeply; and she made no effort to mitigate my sufferings. Indeed, I suspected her, more than once, of deliberately and perversely torturing me with other men. At any rate, she took no pains to hide her infidelities from me. I confess that once or twice I was almost distracted. And it was in the hope of frightening her into a more amenable and considerate attitude that I threatened her. I trust that you are a sufficiently discerning judge of human nature to believe me.”
“Leaving that point for a moment,” answered Markham noncommittally, “will you give me more specific information as to your whereabouts Monday night?”
Again I noted a yellow tinge creep over the man’s features, and his body stiffened perceptibly. But when he spoke, it was with his habitual suavity.
“I considered that my note to you covered that question satisfactorily. What did I omit?”
“What was the name of the patient on whom you were calling that night?”
“Mrs. Anna Breedon. She is the widow of the late Amos H. Breedon of the Breedon National Bank of Long Branch.”
“And you were with her, I believe you stated, from eleven until one?”
“That is correct.”
“And was Mrs. Breedon the only witness to your presence at the sanitarium between those hours?”
“I am afraid that is so. You see, after ten o’clock at night I never ring the bell. I let myself in with my own key.”
“And I suppose that I may be permitted to question Mrs. Breedon?”
Doctor Lindquist was profoundly regretful. “Mrs. Breedon is a very ill woman. She suffered a tremendous shock at the time of her husband’s death last summer, and has been practically in a semiconscious condition ever since. There are times when I even fear for her reason. The slightest disturbance of excitement might produce very serious results.”
He took a newspaper cutting from a gold-edged letter case and handed it to Markham.
“You will observe that this obituary