"I must ask you what may prove an awkward question, Miss French," he
said.
"I--we seem to be completely in your hands, Inspector Queen," said the
girl, smiling faintly.
The Inspector stroked his mustache. "Just what has been the
relationship between yourself, let us say, and your stepmother and
stepsister? Amicable? Strained? Openly antagonistic?"
Marion did not answer at once. Weaver shuffled his feet and turned
away. Then the girl's magnificent eyes met the old man's honestly.
"I think 'strained' expresses it exactly," she said in her clear
sweet voice. "There has never been much love lost on any side of the
triangle. Winifred has always preferred Bernice above me--which is of
course natural--and as for Bernice, we didn't agree from the beginning.
And as time went on, and--and things began to happen, the rift simply
widened...."
"'Things'?" prompted the Inspector suggestively.
Marion bit her lip, flushed. "Well--just little things, you know," she
said evasively. She hurried on. "All of us tried very hard to conceal
our dislike for each other--for dad's sake. I'm afraid we weren't
always successful. Dad is keener than people think."
"I see." The Inspector tchk-ed with concern. He straightened with
a peculiarly swift movement of his body. "Miss French, do you know
anything that might give us a hint to the murderer of your stepmother?"
Weaver gasped, whitened. He seemed about to voice a bitter protest. But
Ellery laid a restraining hand on his arm. The girl grew still, but she
did not flinch. She passed her fingers wearily across her forehead.
"I--no." It was a bare whisper.
The Inspector made a deprecating little gesture.
"Oh, please don't ask me anything more about--about _her_," she cried
suddenly in an agonized voice. "I can't go on this way, talking about
her, trying to tell the truth, because ..." she spoke more quietly,
"... because it would be in the poorest taste to calumniate that
poor--dead--thing." She shuddered. Weaver boldly put his arm about her
shoulders. She turned to him with a little sigh of relief and buried
her face against his breast.
"Miss French." Ellery's tone was gentleness itself. "You can help us on
one point.... Your stepsister--what brand of cigaret does she smoke?"
Marion's astonishment at the seemingly irrelevant question brought her
head up with a start.
"Why--_La Duchesse_."
"Exactly. And she smoked _La Duchesse_ exclusively?"
"Yes. At least, for as long as I know her."
"Has she"--Ellery was casual--"has she any peculiarity in her method of
smoking, Miss French? Any perhaps slightly unusual habit?"
The pretty brows drew closer together in a little frown. "If you mean
by habit"--she hesitated--"a distinct nervousness--yes."
"Does this nervousness manifest itself in a noticeable way?"
"She smokes incessantly, Mr. Queen. And she never takes more than five
or six puffs at a cigaret. She doesn't seem by nature able to smoke
calmly. A few puffs, and she grinds out the long stump of tobacco still
remaining almost with--viciousness. The cigarets she leaves are always
bent and twisted out of shape."
"Thank you so much." Ellery's firm lips lifted in a smile of
satisfaction.
"Miss French--" the Inspector took up the attack--"you left this house
last night after dinner. You did not return until midnight. _Where were
you during those four hours?_"
Silence. A frightened silence so suddenly fraught with hidden
complications of emotion that it seemed almost of physical substance.
It was a tableau created for a single moment's duration: the slight
Inspector, alert, controlled, leaning forward; the straight body of
Ellery, muscles completely inanimate; the vague bulk of Velie, drawn
and powerful; a petrified agony on Weaver's mobile features--and the
utter misery of Marion French's slender, stricken figure.
It passed in the drawing of a breath. Marion sighed, and the four men
relaxed stealthily.
"I was ... walking in ... the Park," she said.
"Oh!" The Inspector smiled, bowed, smoothed his mustache. "Then there
is nothing more to be said, Miss French. Good afternoon."
It was simply said, and the Inspector, Ellery and Velie passed from the
room, into the reception hall, out of the house without another word
spoken.
But it left Marion and Weaver in a dejection and apprehension so
profound that they stood in their places, exactly as they had been,
eyes turned away from each other, long after the outer door had snicked
cleanly shut.
24
THE QUEENS TAKE STOCK
Dusk was descending on the city when Velie took leave of the Queens
outside the French mansion to manipulate the official machinery already
operating on the shadowy trail of the vanished Bernice Carmody.
After Velie had gone, the Inspector looked at the quiet River, looked
at the darkening sky, looked at his son, who was energetically
polishing his pince-nez and staring down at the pavement.
The Inspector sighed. "The air will do both of us a lot of good," he
said tiredly. "I need something to clear my addled brain, anyway....
Ellery, let's walk home."
Ellery nodded, and side by side they sauntered down the Drive toward
the corner. At the corner they turned east and settled down to a slow,
thoughtful pace. They walked another block before the silence was
broken.
"This is really the first chance," remarked Ellery at last, grasping
his father's arm encouragingly at the elbow, "that I've had to mull
over the multitude of factors that have arisen so far. Significant
factors. Telling factors, dad! There are so many they give me _mal à la
tête_."
"Really?" The Inspector was depressed, morose. His shoulders sagged.
Ellery regarded him keenly. He tightened his grip on the old man's arm.
"Come, dad! Buck up. I know you're at sea, but it's because of the
trouble and worry you've had on your mind recently. My brain has been
more than usually free from occupation lately. It's been clear enough
to grasp the amazing fundamentals this case has spewed up to-day. Let
me think aloud."
"Go ahead, son."
"One of the two most valuable clues this affair has given us is the
fact that the corpse was found in the Fifth Avenue exhibition-window."
The Inspector snorted. "I suppose you'll tell me now that you already
know who did the job."
"Yes."
The Inspector was so taken aback that he stopped in his tracks and
stared at Ellery with an expression of complete dismay and unbelief.
"Ellery! You're joking. How _could_ you?" he finally managed to
splutter.
Ellery smiled gravely. "Don't misunderstand me. I say I know who
murdered Mrs. French. I should qualify that by saying that certain
indications point with incredible consistency at one individual. I have
no proof. I don't grasp one-tenth of the implications. I am entirely
ignorant of the motive, the undoubtedly sordid story behind the
crime.... Consequently, I shall not tell you whom I have in mind."
"You wouldn't," growled the Inspector, as they walked on.
"Now, dad!" Ellery laughed a little. He tightened his hold on the small
package of books from French's library table, which he had carried
stubbornly from the moment they had left the department store. "I have
a good reason. In the first place, it's quite conceivable that I'm
being misled by a series of coincidences. In that case, I should merely
be making an ass of myself if I accused some one and then had to eat
crow.... When I have _proof_--you'll know, dad, the very first one....
There are so many unexplained, seemingly inexplicable things. These
books, for example.... Well!"
He said no more for a few moments as they strode through the streets.
"I began," he said at last, "with the suspicious fact that Mrs.
French's body was found in the exhibition-window. And it _was_
suspicious, to say the least. For all the reasons that we went
over before--the lack of blood, the missing key, the lipstick
and the half-painted lips, the lack of illumination, the general
preposterousness of the window as the scene of the crime.
"It was quite plain that Mrs. French had not been murdered in that
window. Where had she been murdered, then? The watchman's report
that she had signified the apartment as her destination; the missing
apartment key _which she had_ when O'Flaherty saw her go toward the
elevator--these suggested that the apartment should be examined at
once. Which I immediately proceeded to do."
"Go on--I know all that," said Queen grumpily.
"Patience, Diogenes!" chuckled Ellery. "The apartment told the story
quite graphically. Mrs. French's presence seemed indubitable. The
cards, the book-ends and the story they told...."
"I don't know what story they told," grunted the Inspector. "You mean
that powder?"
"Not in this instance. Very well, let's forget the book-ends for
the moment and go to--the lipstick which I found on the bedroom
dressing-table. That belonged to Mrs. French. Its color matched the
color on her half-painted lips. Women don't stop fixing their lips
unless something of a tremendously serious nature intervenes. The
murder? Possibly. Certainly the events leading to the murder.... So,
for this reason and that, all of which you will know in greater detail
to-morrow, I hope, I came to the conclusion that Mrs. French had been
murdered in that apartment."
"I shan't argue with you, because it's probably true, although your
reasons are ludicrous right now. But go ahead--get down to more
concrete things," said the Inspector.
"You must grant me some premises," laughed Ellery. "I'll prove that
apartment business, never fear. At this time, grant me that the
apartment is the scene of the crime."
"It's granted--for the time."
"Very well. If the apartment was the scene of the crime, and the window
was not, then very simply the body was removed from the apartment to
the window and crammed into that wall-bed."
"In that case, yes."
"But why? I asked myself. _Why_ was the body removed to the window? Why
wasn't it left in the apartment?"
"To make it appear that the apartment wasn't the scene of the murder?
But that doesn't make sense, because--"
"Yes, because no pains were taken to remove traces of Mrs. French's
presence, like the game of banque, the lipstick--although I'm inclined
to think that leaving the lipstick was an oversight. It is evident,
then, that the reason the body was removed was _not_ to make it appear
that the apartment was not the scene of the crime, _but to delay the
discovery of the body_."
"I see what you mean," muttered the Inspector.
"The time-element, of course," said Ellery. "The murderer must have
known that at 12 o'clock sharp, every day, that window was exhibited,
_and that the window was locked and unused before 12 o'clock_. I was
looking for a reason to explain the removal of the body. The fact that
it would not be discovered until after the noon hour gave the answer in
a flash. For some reason the murderer wanted to delay the discovery of
the crime."
"I can't see why...."
"Not definitely, of course, but we can make a generalization that will
serve the immediate purpose. If the murderer arranged it so that the
body would not be found before noon, it meant that he had something
to do during the morning which the discovery of the body _would have
prevented him from doing_. Is that clear?"
"It follows," conceded the Inspector.
"_Allons--continuer!_" said Ellery. "At first glance, that business
about having to do something which the discovery of the crime would
make impossible of accomplishment, is something of a poser. However,
we know certain facts. For example, no matter how the murderer entered
the store, _he must have stayed all night_. There were two ways of
getting in unnoticed but no way of getting out unnoticed after the
murder. He could have remained hidden somewhere in the store until
after closing-hours, and then stolen up to the apartment; or he
could have slipped through that open freight-door on 39th Street. He
certainly couldn't get out through the Employees' Entrance, because
O'Flaherty was there all night, in a perfect position to see somebody
leave that way. And O'Flaherty saw no one. He couldn't have got out
through the freight-door, because that door was locked for the night at
eleven-thirty, and Mrs. French didn't arrive until eleven-forty-five.
If he had slipped out via the freight-door, he couldn't have committed
the murder. Obviously! The freight-door was closed to him at least a
half-hour before the woman was killed at all. So--he must have had to
remain in the store all night.
"Now, that being the case, he could not escape until at least nine
o'clock the next morning, when the doors were opened to the public and
any one could walk out as if he were an early customer."
"Well then, why all that rigmarole about stowing the body in the window
in order to prevent its discovery before noon? What for?" demanded the
Inspector. "If he could get out at nine o'clock and he had something
to do, why couldn't he have done it then? In that case he wouldn't
care when the body was found, because he could do what was necessary
immediately after nine."
"Precisely." Ellery's voice sharpened with a certain zest. "_If he were
free to walk out at nine and stay out_, he would have no reason for
delaying the discovery of the body."
"But, Ellery," objected the Inspector, "he _did_ delay the discovery of
the body! Unless--" A light dawned on his face.
"That's it exactly," Ellery said soberly. "If our murderer was in
some way connected with the store, his absence would be noted or at
least would be in danger of notice after a murder was discovered. By
secreting the body in a place where he knew it would not be found until
noon, he had all morning to watch for an opportunity to slip away and
do what he had to do....
"Of course, there's something else. It's an open question whether
the murderer planned in advance to secrete the body in the window
after killing Mrs. French in the apartment. I rather think the switch
of locale was not planned on much before the crime. For this reason.
Ordinarily the apartment is not entered until about ten o'clock in the
morning. Weaver has his own office, and French doesn't get down until
that hour. So that the murderer must have figured, in his original
plan, on committing the crime in the apartment and leaving the body
there. He would have ample time to get out of the building after nine
and return before ten, let us say. So long as the body was found
_after_ he attended to his nefarious morning business, he was safe.
"But when he entered that apartment, or perhaps after he committed the
crime, he saw something which made it absolutely essential for him to
remove the body to the window." Ellery paused. "On the desk was a blue
official memorandum. It was there all afternoon on Monday, and Weaver
swears he left it there on the desk when he quit Monday evening. And it
was in exactly the same position on Tuesday morning. So it was there
for the murderer to see. And it said that Weaver would be there at nine
o'clock! It was an innocent little memo calling a board meeting, but it
must have put the murderer into something of a panic. If somebody was
coming to the apartment at nine, he wouldn't have a chance to do what
evidently was of desperate necessity, although we still don't know what
it is. Therefore the removal of the body to the window and the rest of
it. Follow?"
"Seems holeproof," grunted the Inspector, but there was a light of
absorbing interest in his eye.
"There's one vital thing to be done almost immediately," added Ellery
thoughtfully. "Unquestionably whoever committed the crime did not hide
in the store yesterday afternoon and wait for closing hour. I'll tell
you why. The complete time-sheet is a check-up on everybody connected
with this investigation. The time-sheet gives the checking-out time
of everybody. _All_ the people we're interested in are reported as
having left the building at five-thirty or before, with the exception
of Weaver and this man Springer, the head of the book department. And
since they were definitely seen leaving, they couldn't obviously have
_stayed_ for the crime. You remember the names? Although people like
Zorn, Marchbanks, Lavery and the rest do not check out, their name and
time are noted when they leave the building, as was the case yesterday.
Since everybody did leave, then the murderer must have got into the
building by the only way left--the freight-door on 39th Street. It
would be the more logical thing for the murderer to do anyway, because
he could establish an alibi for the evening, and still have time to
get into the store through that freight-entrance between eleven and
eleven-thirty."
"We'll have to double-check everybody's movements last night," said the
Inspector dolefully. "More work."
"And probably unproductive. But I agree that it's necessary. We should
do that as soon as possible."
"Now." Ellery's lips twisted into a rueful smile. "There are so many
ramifications to this case," he said apologetically, interrupting his
line of thought. "For example--why did Winifred come to the store
at all? There's a question for you! And was she lying when she told
O'Flaherty that she was going to the apartment upstairs? Of course, the
watchman did see her take the elevator, and it is a fair assumption
that she went to the sixth floor rooms, especially since we have
definite evidence of her presence there. Besides, where else could she
go? The window? Preposterous! No, I think we may assume that she went
directly to the private apartment."
"Perhaps Marion French's scarf was already in the window and for
some obscure reason Mrs. French wished to retrieve it," suggested the
Inspector, grinning wryly.
"Yes, you _don't_ think," retorted Ellery. "That business of Marion's
scarf has a perfectly simple explanation, I'm positive, whatever
else may be mysterious about the girl.... But here's a point. Did
Winifred French have an appointment with a particular person, in
the store, in the apartment? Granted the whole affair is cloaked in
mystery--a clandestine meeting in a deserted department store and all
that--yet the hypothesis that the murdered woman came for a definite
purpose to meet a definite person seems too inevitable to discard. In
that case, then, did she know about the strange manner in which her
fellow-conspirator, and as it turned out her murderer, entered the
store? Or did she expect him to walk in as she did, through the regular
night-entrance? Evidently not, because she made no mention of another
person to O'Flaherty, which she might have done had she nothing to
conceal, but gave him the distinct impression that she had dropped in
for something. Then she _was_ involved in some shady business, _did_
know that her companion would take mysterious precautions against
discovery--openly and submissively.
"Was that companion Bernice or Marion? We have reason to believe, from
the mere look of things, that it might have been Bernice. The banque
game, Bernice's cigarets, Bernice's hat and shoes--very significant and
alarming, those last two items. On the other hand, let us examine some
sidelights on the question of Bernice.
"We are fairly agreed that the murderer of Mrs. French took away Mrs.
French's apartment key. This might point to Bernice on first thought,
because we know she did not have her own key that afternoon--in fact,
she couldn't have had her own key, since we actually found it in her
closet at home to-day. Yes, it appears that if Bernice had been in
that store last night, she would have taken her mother's key away. _But
was she in the store?_
"The time has come, I do believe," said Ellery quizzically, "to lay
that particular ghost. Bernice was _not_ in the French department store
last night. Perhaps I had better say at this point that Bernice is not
a matricide. In the first place, despite the presence of the game of
banque, which is known by many people to be a passion of both women,
the presence of the cigarets betrays the frame-up. Bernice, who is a
drug addict, has been indicated beyond a doubt as _always_ smoking only
one-quarter of the length of her _La Duchesse_ cigarets, and crushing
out the long stub. Yet the stubs we found were _without exception_
smoked carefully down almost to the tip. This is so unnatural as to
be conclusive. One or two cigarets might conceivably be found so
consumed; but to find a dozen! It's no go, dad. Bernice did not smoke
those cigarets we found on the card-table. And, of course, if she did
not, then some once else prepared them with the obvious intention of
throwing suspicion on the missing girl. Then there's the matter of the
'phone call to Hortense Underhill, presumably from Bernice. Fishy,
dad--exceedingly piscine! No, Bernice didn't forget about her key so
foolishly. _Somebody wanted her key badly enough to risk a call and a
messenger._"
"The shoes--the hat," murmured the Inspector suddenly, looking up at
Ellery in a startled way.
"Exactly," said Ellery somberly, "very significant and alarming, as I
said before. If Bernice was framed, and we find on the scene of the
crime the shoes and hat she wore the day of the murder--then it simply
means that Bernice has met with violence herself! She must be a victim,
dad. Whether she is already dead or not I don't know. It depends
on the masked story behind the crime. But certainly this deduction
links the disappearance of Bernice and the murder of her mother very
closely. Now why should the girl be done away with also? Perhaps,
dad, if she were left at large, she might be a dangerous source of
information--dangerous as far as the criminal is concerned."
"Ellery!" exclaimed the Inspector. He was trembling with excitement.
"Mrs. French's murder--Bernice's kidnapping--_and she was a drug
fiend_...."
"I'm not particularly surprised, dad," said Ellery warmly. "You have
always been quick on the scent.... Yes, it looks that way to me,
too. Remember that Bernice walked out of her stepfather's house not
only willingly, but eagerly. Is it too much to suppose that she was
going--_to replenish a waning supply of drugs?_
"If that is so, and it seems a good sound possibility, then this
whole case is shrouded and complicated by the manipulations--of drug
distributors. I'm very much afraid we've fallen into just such a
prosaic business as that."
"Prosaic your left eyebrow!" cried Inspector Queen. "Ellery, it gets
clearer and clearer. And with all this rumpus about the increase in
drug distribution--if we should uncover the ring that's been operating
so hugely--if we should actually _nab_ the ringleaders--Ellery, it will
be a remarkable achievement! How I'd like to see Fiorelli's face, when
I tell him what's behind this!"
"Well, don't be over-sanguine, dad," said Ellery pessimistically. "It
may be a _tour de force_. At any rate it's sheer conjecture at this
stage of the game, and we shouldn't be too uplifted by hope.
"We have another angle that helps us localize the geography of the
crime even more precisely."
"The book-ends?" Inspector Queen's voice was uncertain.
"Of course. This too is based on pure reasoning, but I'll wager any
one anything that in the end we find it's true. Conclusions that
fit a series of circumstances so snugly have an overwhelmingly high
percentage of probability in their favor....
"Westley Weaver avers positively that the onyx book-ends have neither
been repaired nor removed from the apartment library since they were
presented to French by John Gray. In examining the book-ends we find a
noticeable difference in the color of the green felt, or baize, pasted
on the bases, the under surfaces. Weaver offers the suggestion that
something is wrong. Why? Because this is the first time he has noticed
the differing shades of green. He has seen those book-ends for months.
He is certain that when the book-ends were new the felts were alike in
color, that they must have been alike all along.