The Glass Village by Ellery Queen Page B

new straw hat, got slowly out and stood in the road. He took off his hat and wiped his half-bald head with a big blue polka-dot handkerchief. Large halfmoons of sweat darkened his jacket below the armpits. He kept glancing from the silent crowd before the church to one of the police cars.
    Finally a uniformed man joined him. He was sandy-haired, with a red hard face. He wore the insignia of a captain of state police. A gun was holstered at his hip; the flap of the holster was buttoned.
    The other police remained in the cars.
    The police captain and the stout civilian walked slowly toward the church in the bright sunshine.
    Johnny remained where he was. He leaned against the horse trough. But only for a moment. Curiosity made him move again. He crossed over the curve of path that separated the north corner from the church lawn. He stopped near the Sheares.
    The troopers had their heads out the car windows, watching in silence.
    The police officer and the civilian went up the church walk side by side, very slowly now. They stopped altogether about ten feet from the line of armed men.
    â€œMornin’, Judge Shinn. Mornin’, folks,” said the stout man. “Heard the terrible news, thought I’d stop by with Captain Frisbee to see what we could do.”
    â€œThis is Sheriff Mothless of Cudbury County,” said the Judge. “Constable Burney Hackett, Hubert Hemus, Merton Isbel, Peter Berry, Orville Pangman … Glad to see you, Captain Frisbee. Shake hands with my neighbors.”
    The policeman and the sheriff hesitated. Then they came forward and shook hands all around.
    â€œAnd this is Mr. Ferriss Adams, Fanny Adams’s grand-nephew,” said the Judge. “I think you know the sheriff, Feriss …
    The Cudbury lawyer shook the fat hand silently.
    â€œCan’t tell you what a shock it’s been, Mr. Adams,” said Sheriff Mothless, wiping his head again. “Never had the pleasure of meetin’ that grand old lady, but we’ve always been mighty proud of her in this county, mighty proud. Great credit to her town, state, and country. Famous artist, they say. Captain Frisbee and me just stopped down Comfort way at Cy Moody’s parlors and took a real good look at her. Ter’ble. Brutal. I tell you, it like to made my blood boil. Man who’d commit a murder like that don’t deserve any more mercy than a mad yellow dog. And by goshamighty, I’m goin’ to see he gets what’s comin’ to him! And damn quick! Right, Captain Frisbee?”
    â€œNo need for you folks to fret any more about him,” said the state policeman. “We’ll take him right off your hands.”
    He stopped expectantly.
    Nobody moved.
    Sheriff Mothless wiped his forehead once more. “Hear you got him locked up in the church cellar,” he said. “Fine work, neighbors! Leaves us nothin’ to do but go on down there, yank him out, and shoot him straight over to the county jail. Easiest manhunt I ever heard of. Hey, Captain?”
    â€œI sure appreciate the help,” said Captain Frisbee. “Well.” He glanced over his shoulder at the police cars, but Sheriff Mothless nudged him, and the policeman turned back.
    â€œWell, it’s gettin’ on,” the sheriff said, glancing at his wrist-watch. “I expect you folks’ll be wantin’ to get into church. So if you’ll all kindly step to one side while Captain Frisbee’s men haul that skunk up out o’ there …”
    The sheriff’s heavy voice dribbled off. Not a man or woman had stirred.
    Captain Frisbee glanced over his shoulder again, a little impatiently.
    â€œJust a moment, please!” Judge Shinn nudged Ferriss Adams forward.
    The Cudbury lawyer faced the villagers with respectful friendliness, as if they were a jury. “Neighbors,” he said, “you all know me. I’ve been coming into Shinn Corners on and off for forty years, since the days