"Right," Delaney said, nodding.
"I've been thinking about that. I don't want to get too heavy, but here's how I figure it.
We know Diane was Ellerbee's student. He sees this absolutely beautiful girl who doesn't want to be anything but beautiful… a princess. So he decides to convince her to use her brain. She follows his advice and goes on to make a great career. Sergeant, remember Samuelson talking about the Pygmalion-Galatea syndrome? That's what it was. Now, years later, Ellerbee meets Joan Yesell. He sees something there, too, and tries to bring it out. You know what his problem was?
He had to improve his women. There are guys like that. They can't love a woman for what she is. They have to remake her to conform to some vision of their own. Does any of that make sense?"
"I've got a brother-in-law like that," Jason said.
"Always nudging my sister to do this, do that, wear this, wear that. He just won't let her be. I give them another year or two. Then they'll split."
"That's it exactly," Delaney said gratefully.
"And I think that was part of the attraction Ellerbee felt for Joan Yesell. He wanted to create her. Another thing-everyone kept telling Ellerbee how lucky he was. Remember?
Man, are you ever lucky being married to a real goddess with all those bucks!
Now I ask you: How long could you take that? Wouldn't it begin to wear after a while? Isn't it possible you'd prefer a plain little shadow who thinks you're God Almighty? Or maybe Ellerbee was just bored. Or Yesell was the greatest lay since Cleopatra-or at least better than Diane. In any case there are enough reasons to account for Ellerbee's infidelity.
The poor guy," Delaney added, shaking his head.
"He needed professional help."
They all worked as fast as they could, but it was no good. By the evening of December 27th, Delaney had learned little more.
Helen Venable said she'd swear on a stack of Bibles yea high that Joan Yesell was not pregnant and never had been but she couldn't prove it one way or the other. Jason had no luck with Yesell's physician. The doctor wouldn't talk and ordered the cop out of his office. Boone's men got nothing from St. Vincent's or the other emergency room that had handled Yesell's suicide attempts.
The canvassing of hardware stores yielded no better results. No one remembered selling a ball peen hammer to anyone resembling Joan Yesell.
The super at her brownstone was questioned, but he didn't even know what a ball peen was, let alone own one. So that was that.
"All right," Delaney said, sighing, "let's go talk to the lady. The funny thing is, about a week ago, I suggested to Deputy Thorsen that maybe Mama Yesell had lied to cover up her daughter's affair with a boyfriend. That was on the mark, but who the hell could have guessed the boyfriend was the victim?"
They drove downtown in Jason's car and met Venable in front of Joan's brownstone.
"You going to take her in?" Helen demanded.
"Let's wait and see," Delaney said.
"We've got no warant, and right now we can't show probable cause. If she confesses -that's something else again.
She's home?"
"She and Blanche both."
"Fine. You buzz her on the intercom and talk. Then we'll all go up."
When they marched into that overstuffed apartment, die two plump cats looked up at them sleepily but didn't bother rising. Blanche Yesell's reaction was more electric.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she said sharply, her beehive hairdo bobbing with fury.
"Haven't we suffered enough? This is harassment, pure and simple, and I assure you the police department will be hearing from my lawyer."
Delaney decided to set the tone of the interrogation right then and there.
"Madam," he thundered, "you lied to us. Do you wish to be arrested for obstruction of justice? If not, just sit down and keep your mouth shut!"
It stunned her into silence. Mother and daughter sat down abruptly on the ornate settee. After a few seconds they clasped hands and looked fearfully up at the four cops.
"You," Delaney said harshly, addressing Mrs. Blanche Yesell.
"You said you were here with your daughter on the night Doctor Ellerbee was killed. A deliberate falsehood. Do you wish to revise your statement now, madam?"
"Well, uh…" she said, "I might have stepped out for a few minutes."
"A few minutes," he repeated scornfully, then turned to the three officers.
"Did you hear that? A few minutes! Isn't that beautiful?" He turned back to the mother.
"More like three hours and probably four. And we have the statements of your bridge club members to prove it. Three respectable women testifying to your peury. Do you dare deny it?"
He had her intimidated, but she wasn't willing to give up yet.
"My Joan is innocent!" she cried in an anguished voice.
"Is she?" Delaney said contemptuously.
"Is she really? And that's why you found it necessary to lie to us, was it?" He moved to confront the daughter, whose face had become ashen.
"And now you, Miss Yesell. Were you aware that in his will Doctor Ellerbee canceled his patients' outstanding bills?"
The unexpected question startled her. She shook her head dumbly.
"How much did you owe him?" he said sternly.
"I don't remember," she faltered, "exactly."
"Sergeant Boone," Delaney said, "how much did Joan Yesell owe Doctor Ellerbee?"
"About ten thousand dollars," Boone said promptly.
"Ten thousand dollars," Delaney repeated, glaring at the young woman.
"Much, much more than any other patient.
And Doctor Ellerbee was making no effort to collect this debt.
Why do you suppose that was, Miss Yesell?"
"He was a very kind man," her mother said in a low voice.
"And we didn't have -- 2' "You had enough," Delaney interrupted roughly.
"Your daughter had a good-paying job. You had enough to pay him if you had wanted to or he had dunned you for it. Boone, how do you see it?"
"I figure their affair started about a year ago," the Sergeant said glibly.
"Then, around April, it got really serious. That was when he stopped noting her late Friday night visits in his appointment book."
"Friday nights," Delaney said, nodding.
"Every Friday night he could make it. His wife would take off for Brewster, and you," he said, staring at the mother, "you would take off for your bridge game. A sweet setup. Did he promise to divorce his wife and marry you?" he shouted at Joan Yesell.
She began weeping, burying her face in her palms. Detective Venable took one step toward her, then stopped. She knew better than to interfere.
"We know, Joan," Delaney said, suddenly gentle.
"We know all about your affair with Doctor Simon. Did he tell you he loved you?"
Her bowed head moved up and down.
"Sure he did," Delaney said in a soft voice.
"Said he was going to divorce his wife and marry you. But he kept stalling, didn't he? So you… Jason, where do you suppose she got the hammer?"
"That's easy," the officer said.
"Buy one in any hardware store in town. Then throw it in a trash can when you're finished with it."
"No, no, no!" Joan Yesell screamed, raising a tearstreaked face.
"It wasn't like that at all."
"You stop this!" Mrs. Blanche Yesell said indignantly.
"You stop it this instant. You're upsetting my Joan."
"No, madam, I will not stop," Delaney said stonily.
"Your Joan was having an affair with a married man who was found murdered. We're going to get the truth if it takes all night." He whirled on the daughter. "You were there, weren't you? The night he was killed?"