"H. L. Gold - And Three to Get Ready" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gold H. L)

all. Or perhaps my idea of police work differs from yours."
I don't know how Schatz managed it, but he let Capt. Warren know that Dr. Merriman was getting
on in years and ought to be humored. So I went along with them to the little guy's bed, where he was just
coming out of the sedative. He was still groggy, but he saw us coming and ducked his left hand under the
blanket.
Well, that's all you have to do to get a cop suspicious, make a sudden move like running out of a
bank at high noon or ducking one hand under a blanket. Warren hauled it out, with the little guy resisting
and trying to hide his pinky in his palm. The cop straightened out the pinky. It was colored red under the
fingernail.
"Blood?" I asked, confused, and then got busy because the little guy was trying to pull away while
Capt. Warren took some scrapings.
It wasn't blood. It was lipstick, according to the lab test. "There," said Dr. Schatz, satisfied, "you
see? You've upset my patient, and for what?"
"Plenty," Warren said between his teeth, "and I'm going to upset him some more."
He had me hold the little guy downтАФI didn't want to until Dr. Merriman overrode Schatz's
objections and ordered me toтАФwhile two cops put the little guy into Sally Norton's stained uniform and
painted his mouth with lipstick.
You know, with that slender build of his and the cap on, he didn't look bad. Better than Sally, if you
want to know, but who doesn't?
"All right," Schatz said, "he could have gotten past Slattery in that dim light. Admitted. But what
makes you think he did? And why should he have done so?"
"The lipstick on the pinky," said Warren. "If you want to do a decent job, you don't just slap it
onтАФyou shape it with your little finger. Why? That depends. If the guy's psycho, he could have done
Michaels in just because. But suppose he's the guy who was with Michaels on the jobтАФMichaels was
the only one who could have identified him. But Michaels was in a coma. So this character had to get into
the hospital somehow and slit Michaels' throat to keep him from talking. Either way, it figures."
Dr. Merriman nodded. "That was my own opinion, Captain."
"You're lying! You're lying!" the little guy screamed. "I said his name three times and he died! They
always die! It's the curse I have to bear!"
"We'll see," said Dr. Merriman. "Say my name three times." The little guy cowered away. "IтАФI can't.
I have enough deaths on my conscience now."
"You heard me!" Dr. Merriman shouted, turning a dangerous red in the face. "Say my name three
times!"
The little guy looked appealingly at Dr. Schatz, who said soothingly, "Go ahead. I know you're
convinced it works, but it's completely contrary to logic. Wishes can't kill. This may prove it to you."
The little guy said Dr. Merriman's name three times, pale and shaking and looking about ready to
throw up with fear.
Warren put SlatteryтАФand another guardтАФon the psycho ward, and started a check on the little
guy's fingerprints.
When I got to work the next day, the ward was a tomb. It might as well have been. Sally Norton
was crying and Dr. Schatz was all pinch-faced and the little guy was running around the room yelling that
he shouldn't have been forced to do it.
"Do what?" I wanted to know.
"Dr. Merriman died last night," Schatz said.
I looked at the little guy in horror. "Him?"
"No, no, of course not," said Schatz, but it was in a flat voice, not the impatient way he would have
told me a day ago. "Dr. Merriman had a cardiac lesion. He could have gone at any time. There may even
have been a deep unconscious wish to escape the pain and fear, and this patient's delusion could have
given Dr. Merriman a psychological escape. It's the principle behind voodooism. The victim wills himself
to death; the hexer merely supplies the suggestion."