The Case of the Poisoned Eclairs: A Masao Masuto Mystery Read Free

Your wife died of a kind of food poisoning called botulism. That’s what makes it a police matter. You see, we must try to find out where the éclairs came from. I don’t know whether there is any reason why you must stay here now. Could you leave and return?”
    He nodded.
    â€œWe would be very grateful to you if you could come to the Beverly Hills police headquarters and give us a statement. I only mean to let a stenographer take down what you have just told me. Then you could sign it, and we have it for the records.”
    â€œMust I? Ana is here. I arranged for the hearse to come here for her body.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œAt three o’clock.”
    â€œThen you have plenty of time. This won’t take more than an hour, with the driving. I’ll be happy to drive you both ways.”
    He thought about it for awhile, then nodded. “I’ll take my own car.”
    â€œThe police station is on Rexford, just south of Santa Monica. Do you know where that is?”

    â€œI know. Yes.”
    After Fortez had made his statement, and after it was typed up and Wainwright had read it, the captain said to Masuto, “Did you tell him about Doc Baxter’s theory?”
    â€œNo. What for? He has enough grief.”
    â€œStill, if there’s anything to it, he could have fed her the stuff in a mug of coffee.”
    â€œCome on,” Masuto said. “A Mexican murder is an act of violence, an act of rage. If this is what Baxter says it is, it’s a thousand years removed from those poor kids. It’s diabolical.”
    â€œIf it’s what Baxter says it is. I still don’t buy it.”
    Beckman walked in as Masuto entered his office, and stood in silence for a long moment, watching Masuto.
    â€œWhat is it, Sy? What did you learn?”
    â€œYou give me a creepy feeling at times.”
    â€œThat’s because I’m a wily Oriental. What did Omi have to say?”
    â€œHe says you can’t get botulism from an éclair. He also says you can’t get botulism from Lubie’s chocolates, which in case you never heard of Lubie’s chocolates are maybe the most expensive candy in the world, and they’re sold on North Cañon Drive over here in Beverly Hills for eight and a half dollars a pound.”
    â€œI know the place where they sell Lubie’s chocolate.”
    â€œOn your pay?”
    â€œI don’t buy them. I just know where they’re sold. So maybe you’ll be good enough to tell me what the devil you’re talking about.”
    â€œAll right. All right.” Beckman spread his hands. “Other cops, they got muggers and rapists. We got the cutes, only not so cute. I go downtown and ask all the questions. Absolutely quiet on the food poisoning front, not even a troop of boy scouts who let their sandwiches sit in the sun too long, not even a restaurant closed down for a dirty kitchen, except—”
    â€œExcept what?”
    â€œThis cousin Omi Saiku of yours, strange duck, knows more about poison than an encyclopedia, shows me some sweet pea seeds—deadly. You ever know that? You can die from eating sweet pea seeds or morning glory seeds or potato leaves—”
    â€œWill you please get to the point? What about Lubie’s chocolates?”
    â€œI’m getting there. I’m just saying I’m glad he’s on our side. So he says to me, ‘Masao’s found a botulin in an éclair.’ Then he grins, like it’s some special earth-shaking discovery in the poison field. ‘Then tell Masao we found a botulin in a chocolate bonbon. He will enjoy that. I am sure that police work in Beverly Hills is very dull.’ Then he tells me that this dame—” He took out his notebook to consult it. “Name of Alice Greene, lives over here on Roxbury Drive. Well, he tells me that she feeds a couple of pieces of this Lubie candy to her dog, a Pekinese, and the dog freaks out. She