The Campus Murders by Ellery Queen Page B

one reported the discovery. Would he have done that if he’d had anything to do with this?”
    â€œWho’d he report it to, tell me that? The police, like he ought to? No, he goes running to his pal Dean Gunther. If you hadn’t happened to be there we’d probably not know about it yet.”
    â€œYou’re a racist,” McCall said. “I’m not going to let you coldcock that student, Long.”
    â€œSure, Mr. McCall,” Long said with a smile. “I sure will remember. Racist, am I? Look, I know the facts of life, you’re one of those do-gooder liberals like our dear mushy gov who’s responsible for what’s going on these days. Give ’em a finger and they want everything.”
    â€œI’m not going to argue with you, lieutenant. Just remember what I said.”
    â€œHe was after her,” Long snarled. “Niggers go for white meat, any hep white man knows that. She repulsed him and he lost his head—went after her with everything he had. I’m betting we find she’s been raped.”
    â€œMaybe she was,” McCall said. “That’s a long way from proving that Graham Starret did the raping. You know what I think, lieutenant? I think that after you’ve questioned Starret and Chief Pearson gets a full report, you’re going to decide to let the kid go.” He started his engine; the ambulance was moving off. “One other thing. If I find out that so much as a finger’s been laid on Starret, you’ll wish you’d never become a cop.”
    McCall shot across the clearing after the ambulance. He heard Long call out something in a vicious tone but he could not make out the words.
    Tailing the ambulance into town, McCall considered the case of young Starret. The thought of the student’s possible guilt had crossed his mind at once. His argument to Lieutenant Long that Starret’s announcing his discovery of the girl’s body took him off the hook hardly held water. He could have panicked and abandoned her originally, expecting her to be found quickly, and when she was not found quickly, his fear that she might die could well have caused him to “find” her, with his date (who on investigation would no doubt back his story up) as a witness. But there was nothing—so far—to tie Starret in with Laura Thornton’s increasingly mysterious life. No, it was more complicated than Long wanted it to be. The lieutenant was looking for a quick and simple—racist—solution.
    The Tisquanto Memorial Hospital was an old-fashioned-looking yellow brick structure built in the Twenties, four stories high. It sprawled over a considerable area. McCall parked his car near the emergency entrance and hurried over to the drawn-up ambulance.
    They had already removed the girl. He went in. At the admitting desk he said, “Laura Thornton. The emergency case they just brought in. Where did they take her?”
    â€œI’m afraid I can’t give you that information,” the pretty girl in white said.
    McCall dug out his credentials case. The girl’s eyes widened.
    â€œThe police said not to give out any information, Mr. McCall—”
    â€œI’m working with the police.”
    â€œWell, she’s in Emergency Room C. Dr. Edgewit is attending her.”
    He found the girl under an oxygen tent, with two nurses busy over her. Dr. Edgewit, in a green surgical gown, looked absurdly young. He was examining Laura Thornton intently. Dr. Littleton stood by, watching his every move.
    McCall introduced himself.
    â€œNo time,” the young doctor said without looking up.
    â€œWill she pull through?”
    â€œShe’s in coma. Concussion, shock, you name it. She’s taken an unholy beating.”
    â€œI’ll get out of your hair, doctor. Dr. Littleton?” He took the medical examiner aside. “Is Dr. Edgewit competent?”
    â€œHe’s the chief resident. Fine