Free Egyptian Cross Mystery by Ellery Queen Page B

identifying marks on his body, Mrs. Brad?”
    Helene looked faintly nauseated, and turned her head aside. Mrs. Brad muttered: “A strawberry birthmark on his right thigh.”
    The Inspector sighed with relief. “So that’s that. Now, folks, let’s get down to bedrock. How about enemies? Who might have wanted to do Mr. Brad in?”
    “Forget this business of the crucifixion and everything else for the moment,” added the District Attorney. “Who had a motive for murder?”
    Mother and daughter turned to regard each other; they looked away almost at once. Lincoln kept staring steadfastly at the rug—a magnificent Oriental, Ellery noted, with a beautifully woven Tree of Life design; an unhappy juxtaposition of symbol and reality, considering the fact he reflected, that its owner …
    “No,” said Mrs. Brad. “Thomas was a happy man. He had no enemies;”
    “Were you in the habit of entertaining comparative strangers?”
    “Oh, no. We lead a secluded life here, Mr. Isham.” There was something again in her tone that made them look keenly at her.
    Ellery sighed. “Do any of you recall the presence here—guest or otherwise—of a limping man?” They shook their heads instantly. “Mr. Brad knew no one with a limp?” Another concerted negative.
    Mrs. Brad said again: “Thomas had no enemies,” with dull emphasis, as if she felt it important to impress this fact upon them.
    “You’re forgetting something, Margaret,” said Jonah Lincoln slowly. “Romaine.”
    He looked at her with burning eyes. Helene flashed a glance of horrified condemnation at his clean profile; then she bit her lip and tears came to her eyes. The four men looked on with growing interest and a sense of underflowing byplay; there was something unhealthy here, a sore on the Brad body domestic.
    “Yes, Romaine,” said Mrs. Brad, licking her lips; the position of her figure had not changed for ten minutes. “I forgot. They had a quarrel.”
    “Who the devil’s Romaine?” demanded Vaughn.
    Lincoln said in a low quick voice: “Paul Romaine. Harakht, that lunatic on Oyster Island, calls him the ‘chief disciple.’”
    “Ah,” said Ellery, and looked at Professor Yardley. The ugly man raised his shoulders expressively, and smiled.
    “They’ve built up a nudist colony on the Island. Nudists!” cried Lincoln bitterly. “Harakht is a nut—he’s probably sincere; but Romaine is a faker, the worst kind of confidence man. He trades on his body, which is only the cloak of a rotten soul!”
    “And yet,” murmured Ellery, “didn’t Holmes recommend: ‘Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul’?”
    “Sure,” said Inspector Vaughn, intent on soothing this strange witness. “We understand. But about that quarrel, Mr. Lincoln?”
    Lean face worked fiercely. “Romaine’s responsible for the ‘guests’ on the Island—works up the business. He’s hooked a bunch of poor fools who either think he’s some kind of tin god, or else are so damn repressed that the very thought of running around naked …” He stopped abruptly. “Excuse me, Helene—Margaret. I shouldn’t talk. Hester … They haven’t been bothering any of the residents here, I’ll admit. But Tom and Dr. Temple feel the same way I do about it.”
    “Hmm,” said Professor Yardley. “Nobody consulted me.”
    “Dr. Temple?”
    “Our neighbor to the east. They were seen capering around Oyster Island absolutely nude, like human goats, and well—we’re a decent community.” Ah, thought Ellery; thus spake the Puritan. “Tom owns all this property fronting the Cove, and he felt that it was his duty to interfere. He had some sort of run-in with Romaine and Harakht. I think he was intending to take legal measures to oust them from the Island, and he told them so.”
    Vaughn and Isham looked at each other, and then at Ellery. The Brads, mother and daughter, were very still; and Lincoln, now that he had rid himself of his accumulated bile, looked uneasy and