Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 5, No. 19, November 1944

“When you drive Mrs. McRae to the A. & P. store to buy provisions that is sensual driving. When you take her to the dentist in Millbrook that is O. K. likewise. When you are sent to Lakeville to get a perscription filled that is simily O.K. But when you go out on a petting party with one of your girl friends that is not sensual driving and it is out for the duration. Is that perfectly clear?”

“I can’t drive to Torrington any more?”

“Not unless it is sensual.”

“I guess you wouldn’t hardly call it that, Mr. McRae.”

“Certainly not. Keep on studying how to become a detective but do it here in Surrey. Peter, I know I can depend on you.”

I said, “Yes, sir,” and that is that.

Rosie, the maid, has quit us to run a steam-hammer at Pratt & Whitney’s where they make airplane motors for airplanes, and that is how we got that new redhead named Annabell. She showed up yesterday from the employment agency which they have in Poughkeepsie but she is just as sassy as if she had been with us for years. Mrs. McRae sent me to the A. & P. to bring home some vegetables she ordered over the phone and I took Annabell along and we parked near the post-office.

I saw lots of horny handed sons of toil but I did not say there were ditch diggers because these days they are all master mechanics getting $1.10 an hour running machines they don’t know anything about.

I did not see any salty mariners who sailed the seven seas because the only sailing here is canoes up at the lake at Lakeville and it is not salty.

I did not see any cloistered professors who gave a lifetime to teaching mathematics but that is because they are busy teaching at Hotchkiss and they get their letters at the Lakeville post-office.

By and by Tom Saunders, the tinsmith, came for his mail.

I said, “Annabell, the trained detective can deduct that man is a tinsmith.”

“How can you deduct that?” she says.

“By the Impress of his Occupation. Also I can deduct Mr. Heasey, the fishman, is a fishman. Here he comes now.”

She says, “Pete, did anybody ever tell you are wonderful?”

I says, “Now that you ask me the answer is yes.” Then I saw Butch Krieger, the stone-mason. “Annabell, I can deduct that man is a stonemason.”

“How can you deduct that?”

“By his large hands, his muddy shoes, and especially the spot of morter on his coat lapel.”

“That ain’t morter. That is egg, and I can deduct he has been quarreling with his wife or she wouldn’t let him go out looking such a terrible mess.”

Well, I figured I had her there, because Butch has been single since his wife died long ago, and when he comes up to the car to pass the time of day I says, “Butch, you’re a stonemason, aren’t you?” but he says, “Why, Pete, I give up that job more than a year ago. Ain’t you heard? I been making cartridges at the American Brass Co. for quite a while now.”

I says, “No, I didn’t hear that,” because I hadn’t heard it, and then that redhead Annabell cuts in, “Hey, mister, how are you getting along with your wife these days?”

Butch gives a sad look like he was going to bust out crying and then he says, “Not so good. She threw a plate of eggs at me this morning.”

That was a body blow if you know what I mean. I says, “Butch, I thought your wife was dead.”

“Only the first one, Pete. I got married again.”

“Oh. Congratulations.”

“You can keep the change. Pete, I’ll give you some good advice: don’t never marry one of them dizzy blonds.”

Then Butch goes off, shaking his head and swearing to himself, and Annabell, the redhead, just sits there and grins because she is not a blond but I deduct maybe she used to be a blond before she decided to go redheaded.

She gives me a push. “Don’t take it to heart, Pete. Just keep on deducting and you will be right some time. Look, what do you make out of this fellow?”

Well, I took a good look at the guy who was a total stranger hoping he was John Doe, the pastry-cook, but I could see he wasn’t. “Annabell,” I says, “with a single glance the trained detective can tell that man is a slaughterhouse employee who does his own sewing and plays the violin on the side.”

She kind of gives a gasp and says, “Pete, say it again slow.”

Well, I did, and she says, “My God, Pete, how could you deduct that?”

“It is easy for the trained detective who will let ninety-nine men pass but will snap his handcuffs on the one hundredth. It says in the long quotation from Dr. Wm. E. Presbrey who combed Europe and America for facts regarding the influence of occupations on the body that slaughterhouse employees have bad teeth due to contact with animal hides which carry foot and mouth disease, and tailor’s lips are thick and swollen, their right forefingers thick and calloused from snapping off the thread, and the violinist has a red groove on the underside of his jaw.”

“Can you see all that from where you are sitting?”

“At a single glance. Am I right?”

“I don’t know. I never saw the guy before.”