I sat. “I’m going to be asking around about some things…inquire about burglaries in your neighborhood and such.”
She nodded, twice, very business-like. “I’m certain the thief was after narcotics. In fact, some narcotics were taken, but I keep precious few in my surgery.”
“Yes. I see. What about the gun?”
“It was my husband’s. We’ve had it for years. I’ve never fired it in my life.”
I took out my small spiral notebook. “I know you’re weary of telling it, but I need to hear your story. Before I go poking around the edges of this case, I need to understand the center of it.”
She nodded and smiled. “What would you like to know, exactly?”
“When did you last see your daughter-in-law?”
“About three p.m. that Tuesday. She said she was going for a walk with Mrs. Donovan…”
“Who?”
“A neighbor of ours who was a good friend to the child. Verna Donovan. She’s a divorcee; they were quite close.”
I wrote the name down. “Go on.”
“Anyway, Rheta said something about going for a walk with Mrs. Donovan. She also said she might go downtown and get some sheet music. I urged her to go out in the air, as it was a fine day, and gave her money for the music. After she left, I went for a walk myself, through the neighborhood. It was an usually beautiful day for November, pleasantly warm.”
“How long were you gone?”
“I returned at about four forty-five p.m. I came in the front door. Miss Shaunesey arrived from school about six o’clock. I wasn’t worried then about Rheta’s absence, because I expected her along at any minute. I prepared dinner for the three of us-Miss Shaunesey, Rheta and melf-and set the table. Finally, Miss Shaunesey and I sat down to eat…both wondering where Rheta was, but again, not terribly worried.”
“It wasn’t unusual for her to stay out without calling to say she’d miss supper?”
“Not in the least. She was quiet, but rather…self-absorbed. If she walked by a motion-picture marquee that caught her eye, she might just wander on in, without a thought about anyone who might be waiting for her.”
“She sounds inconsiderate.”
Alice Wynekoop smiled tightly, revealing a strained patience. “She was a strange, quiet girl. Rather moody, I’m afraid. She had definite feelings of inferiority, particularly in regards to my daughter, Catherine, who is after all a physician. But I digress. At about a quarter to seven, I telephoned Mrs. Donovan and asked her if she had been with Rheta. She said she hadn’t seen her since three o’clock, but urged me not to worry.”
“Were you worried?”
“Not terribly. At any rate, at about seven o’clock I asked Miss Shaunesey to go and get a prescription filled for me. She left the house and I remained there. She returned about an hour later and was surprised that Rheta had not yet returned. At this point, I admit I was getting worried about the girl.”
“Tell me about finding the body.”
She nodded, her eyes fixed. “Miss Shaunesey and I sat and talked in the library. Then about eight thirty she asked me to get her some medicine for an upset stomach. I went downstairs to the examination room to get the medicine from the cabinet.” She placed a finger against one cheek, thoughtfully. “I recall now that I thought it odd to find the door of the examination room closed, as it was usually kept open. I turned the knob and slipped my hand inside to find the electric switch.”
“And you found her.”
She shuddered, but it seemed a gesture, not an involuntary response. “It is impossible for me to describe my feelings when I saw Rheta lying there under that flood of light! I felt as if I were somewhere else. I cannot find words to express my feelings.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, I knew something had to be done at once, and I called my daughter, Catherine, at the county hospital. I told her Rheta was dead. She was terribly shocked, of course. I…I thought I had asked Catherine to notify the coroner and to hurry right over. It seemed ages till she got there. When she did arrive, I had her call Dr. Berger and Mr. Ahearn. It wasn’t until some time after they arrived that I realized Catherine had not called the coroner as I thought I’d instructed her. Mr. Ahearn then called the authorities.”
I nodded. “All right. You’re doing fine, doctor. Now tell me about your son and his wife.”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t a happy union, was it.”
Her smile was a sad crease in her wrinkled face. “At one time it was. Earle went with me to a medical convention in Indianapolis in…must have been ’29. Rheta played the violin as part of the entertainment, there. They began to correspond. A yr later they were wed.”
“And came to live with you.”
“Earle didn’t have a job-you know, he’s taken up photography of late, and has had several assignments, I’m really very proud-and, well…anyway. The girl was barely nineteen, when they married. I redecorated and refurnished a suite of rooms on the second floor for my newlyweds. She was a lovely child, beautiful red hair, and of course, Earle…he’s as handsome a boy as ever walked this earth.”
“But Rheta was moody…?”
“Very much so. And obsessed with her health. Perhaps that’s why she married into the Wynekoop family. She was fearful of tuberculosis, but there were no indications of it at all. In the last month of her life, she was rather melancholy, of a somewhat morbid disposition. I discussed with her about going out into the open and taking exercise. We discussed that often.”
“You did not kill your daughter-in-law.”
“No! Mr. Heller, I’m a doctor. My profession, my life, is devoted to healing.”
I rose. Slipped the notebook in my pocket. “Well, thank you, Dr. Wynekoop. I may have a few more questions at a later date.”
She smiled again, a warm, friendly smile, coming from so controlled a woman. “I’d be pleased to have your company. And I appreciate your help. I’m very worried about the effect this is having on Earle.”
“Dr. Wynekoop, with all due respect…my major concern is the effect this going to have on you, if I can’t find the real killer.”
Her smile disappeared and she nodded sagely. She extended her hand for a final handshake, and I left her there.
I used a pay phone in the visitor’s area to call Sergeant Lou Sapperstein at Central Headquarters in the Loop. Lou had been my boss on the pickpocket detail. I asked him to check for me to see what officer in the Fillmore district had caught the call the night of the Wynekoop homicide.
“That’s Stege’s case,” Lou said. Sapperstein was a hardnosed, fair-minded balding cop of about forty-five seasoned years. “You shouldn’t mess in Stege’s business. He doesn’t like you.”
“God you’re a great detective, picking up on a detail like that. Can you get me the name?”
“Five minutes. Stay where you are.”
I gave him the pay phone number and he called back in a little over three minutes.
“Officer Raymond March, detailed with squad fifteen,” he said.
I checked my watch; it was after four.
“He’s on duty now,” I said. “Do me another favor.”
“Why don’t you get a goddamn secretary?”
“You’re a public servant, aren’t you? So serve, already.”
“So tell me what you want, already.”
“Get somebody you trust at Fillmore to tell Officer March to meet me at the drug store on the corner of Madison and Kedzie. Between six and seven.”
“What’s in it for Officer March?”
“Supper and a fin.”
“Why not,” Lou said, a shrug in his voice.
He called me back in five or six minutes and said the message would be passed.
I hit the streetcars again and was back on Monroe Street by a quarter to five. It was getting dark already, and colder.
Mrs. Verna Donovan lived in the second-floor two-flat of a graystone three doors down from the Wynekoop mansion. The smell of corned beef and cabbage cooking seeped from under the door.