18 Ax by Ed McBain

Author:Ed McBain
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Series, Hard-Boiled, Thriller & Suspense, United States, Police Procedurals, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9781612181561
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2012-02-28T05:00:00+00:00

Dr. Ferdinand Matthewson was an old man with a leonine mane of white hair, a long nose, and a gentle voice that issued sibilantly from between pursed lips. He wore a dark black suit and he kept his hands, brown with liver spots, tented in front of his face as he sat in a big brown leather chair and watched Hawes intently and suspiciously.

“How long has Mrs. Lasser been ill?” Hawes asked.

“Since 1939,” Matthewson said.

“When in 1939?”

“September.”

“How would you describe her present condition?”

“Paranoid schizophrenia.”

“Do you feel Mrs. Lasser should be institutionalized, sir?”

“Definitely not,” Matthewson said.

“Even though she has been schizophrenic since 1939?”

“She is dangerous neither to herself nor society. There is no reason for her to be institutionalized.”

“Has she ever been institutionalized?”

Matthewson hesitated.

“Doctor?”

“Yes, I heard you.”

“Has she ever been institutionalized?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“In 1939.”

“For how long?”

Again Matthewson hesitated.

“For how long, sir?”

“Three years.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re her family physician, aren’t you?” “I am.”

“Then where was she institutionalized? Can you tell me that?”

“I want no part of this, sir,” Matthewson said suddenly. “I want no part of what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m trying to investigate a murder,” Hawes said.

“No, sir. You are trying to send an old woman back into an institution, and I will not help you to do that. No, sir. There has been too much misery in the lives of the Lassers. I will not help you to add to it. No, sir.”

“Dr. Matthewson, I assure you I am—”

“Why must you do this?” Matthewson asked. “Why won’t you let a sick old woman live out her days in peace, cared for and protected by someone who loves her?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Matthewson. I’d like to let everybody live out his days in peace. But somebody just wouldn’t allow George Lasser to do that.”

“Estelle Lasser didn’t kill her husband, if that’s what you think.”

“No one said she did.”

“Then why do you want to know about her condition? She’s been hopelessly out of her mind since September 1939 when Tony left for—” Matthewson clamped his mouth shut. “Never mind,” he said. “I wish you’d get out of here, sir. I wish you would leave me alone.”

Hawes continued to sit calmly on the other side of Matthewson’s desk. Calmly he said, “Dr. Matthewson, we are investigating a murder.”

“I don’t care what you—”

“We can bring charges against you for impeding the progress of an investigation, but I would prefer not to do that, sir. I’ll tell you simply that it is entirely within the realm of possibility for Mrs. Lasser to have killed her own husband. It is also within the realm of possibility for Anthony Lasser to have—”

“Both of those suppositions are entirely absurd,” Matthewson said.

“If they’re so damn absurd, sir, maybe you’d like to tell me just why.”

“Because Estelle hasn’t been able to recognize her husband or anyone else since that September in 1939. And Tony Lasser hasn’t stepped out of that house on Westerfield Street since he returned home from Virginia in June 1942. That’s why. You are dealing with a delicately constructed symbiosis here, Mr.

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