The Case of the Poisoned Eclairs: A Masao Masuto Mystery by Howard Fast

words, today Arthur is a millionaire because the lady you are looking at is a damn fool. Murder me? He ought to erect a monument to me.”
    Masuto nodded and waited.
    â€œThat’s it.”
    â€œDo you have any children, Mrs. Crombie?”
    â€œNo!” hard and short.
    Nancy Legett was staring at her. Masuto watched her, then looked at Laura.
    Beckman came back into the kitchen. Masuto guessed that he had searched every corner of the house. Beckman would do it that way. He looked at Beckman, and Beckman said softly, “Okay.”
    Masuto waited. Finally, she said, “Yes. I told you. But what difference does it make? How does it come into this?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t know how anything comes into this. I’m trying to find out.”
    â€œI had a daughter,” Laura said bleakly. “She’s dead. I told you that this morning.”
    â€œPlease tell me more about it.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I’m trying to save lives.”
    â€œShe’s dead. It has nothing to do with this.”
    â€œI don’t want to go elsewhere and pick up shreds of gossip. I want you to tell me.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to tell. My daughter was killed in an automobile accident. Have you ever lost a child, Sergeant Masuto? Would you find it amusing to discuss?” With that, she leaped to her feet and strode out of the room.
    â€œShe can’t talk about it,” Nancy Legett said to him. “It was over three years ago, and it doesn’t get any better. Kelly was a beautiful, wonderful child.”
    â€œKelly?”
    â€œThey called her Kelly. Her real name was Catherine. Laura lived for the child—especially after Laura’s first husband died. We don’t all make rotten marriages. Laura’s first marriage was a good one,” Nancy said.
    â€œDo you know whether Arthur Crombie was in the army?”
    â€œYes, he was a pilot in Korea. He still flies. He has his own plane now.”
    â€œAnd did you know Arthur Crombie?” Masuto asked Mitzie.
    â€œYes—not too well. About a week ago, he called me and then came to my house.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou know what’s going on in the real estate market here in California. It’s even worse in Beverly Hills. The moment word gets around that you might want to sell your house, they descend on you like scavengers. Crombie heard that I wanted to sell my house, and he came by to look at it.”
    â€œAnd do you want to sell it?”
    â€œI think so. It’s a huge barn of a place on Palm Drive, and it makes no sense for me to go on living there. My life with Fuller was quick and merry. We were married only six months. Things still aren’t settled. As soon as they are, I’ll sell the house.”
    â€œAnd when he was there, did anything out of the way happen? Anything he might have asked you?”
    â€œAbout my house?”
    â€œAbout anything.”
    She shook her head. “No. Nothing unusual. Just the general questions—you know, how is the plumbing and does the roof leak and that sort of thing. It’s an old house, a big Spanish Colonial, so it’s far from perfect.”
    â€œAnd that’s the only time you saw Arthur Crombie?”
    Did she hesitate? Was there something in her large blue eyes? If it was there, it was gone instantly. She was an amazingly self-controlled young woman, Masuto decided.
    â€œYes. The only time.”
    Laura Crombie returned to the room. “I’m sorry,” she said to Masuto. “I behaved like an emotional fool. But this has been a terrible day, Sergeant.”
    â€œI know that.”
    â€œThere are pains that go away. The loss of a child is not one of them,” she said.
    â€œI know that too.”
    â€œHow long are you going to keep us here in this house?”
    â€œI’m not keeping you here. I have no authority to keep you here. I suggest very strongly that the