about eleven o'clock in de mo'nin' de same truck she rolls up to de do'
and de two drivuhs dey goes into de house an' purty soon dey stahts
pilin' de fu'niture out o' de house an' into de truck. Didn't take 'em
long--dey wan't much fu'niture, an' den Ah sees de boss-man come out o'
de house, say sumpin' to de drivuhs, an' walk away. De truck went away,
too. Yassuh, an' de boss-man jes' flung dat key de agent gave'm right
out deah on de stoop o' de house befo' he walked off. Yassuh."
The Inspector spoke in a low voice to Velie for a moment, then turned
back to the Negro.
"Did you see anybody go into the house during the four days?" asked the
Inspector. "Especially Tuesday afternoon--yesterday?"
"Why--yassuh, yestiddy, but not befo'. Mah old 'ooman, she sets out
yonduh gen'ally all day, an' she told me las' night dat dey was a
whole raft o' white folks comin' up to dat empty house all yestiddy
aftuhnoon. Dey was all kinda put out when dey saw de house was closed.
Oh, 'bout a dozen of 'em. Dey all went away quick."
"That'll do," said the Inspector slowly. "Give your name and address
and the name of the realty company you're working for to that man over
there, and keep your mouth tight about all this. Remember!"
The Negro stiffened, mumbled, stammered the required information to a
detective of the Narcotic Squad, and shuffled rapidly from the room.
"Well, that settles it," said Inspector Queen to Velie, Fiorelli,
Ellery and Crouther, who were grouped together. "They got wind and beat
it. Something made 'em suspicious and they had to clear out--didn't
even have time to distribute the dope to their customers. There must be
a dozen mighty sick addicts in the city to-day."
Fiorelli made a disgusted gesture. "Aw, let's fade," he growled. "They
got a jinx on me, that gang."
"Tough luck," said Crouther. "That must have been fast work."
"I'm going to trace that truck, if I can," said Velie. "Want to help,
Crouther?" He smiled sardonically.
"Hey, lay off," said Crouther good-naturedly.
"Don't quarrel, now," sighed the Inspector. "You might try, Thomas, but
I have a notion that's a privately owned truck that operates only on
the ring's jobs. And I suppose that now the gang is scared off, we'll
not pick up their trail again in a hurry. Eh, Ellery?"
"I suggest," said Ellery, speaking for the first time since the raid,
"that we go home. We've met our Waterloo for--" he smiled sadly--"to
put it mildly, the nonce."
Fiorelli and Velie mustered the squad of officers and took the police
van back to Headquarters, leaving a bluecoat on guard outside the 98th
Street shack. Crouther, poking Velie slyly in the ribs as the burly
Sergeant swung into the truck, departed early for the French store.
"They'll be sendin' out an alarm for me," he grinned. "After all, I got
a job."
He hailed a cruising taxicab which headed west and south. The Queens
followed suit in another cab.
Ellery took out his thin silver watch in the car and stared at its dial
with amused eyes. The Inspector regarded him in a puzzled way.
"I can't see why you want to go home," he grumbled. "I'm a long time
overdue at my office now. There must be a pile of work on my desk. I've
missed the morning line-up for the first time in months, and I suppose
Welles has called again, and--"
Ellery stared fixedly at his watch, a faint smile on his lips. The
Inspector subsided, muttering.
Ellery paid the cab-driver when the taxi drew up before their
brownstone on 87th Street, herded his father gently upstairs, and did
not speak until Djuna had closed the door behind them.
"Ten minutes," he announced with satisfaction, snapping the watchcase
shut and returning the watch to his vest-pocket. "That's average time,
I should say, from 98th Street and the River to 87th Street on the
other side." He grinned and threw off his light coat.
"Have you gone fay?" gasped the Inspector.
"Like a fox," said Ellery. He took up the telephone and called
a number. "French's? Connect me with Mr. Springer in the Book
Department.... Hello, Book Department? Mr. Springer, please.... What?
Who is this speaking?... Oh, I see.... No, it's quite all right. Thank
you!"
He hung up.
The Inspector was twisting his mustache in an agony of apprehension. He
glared at Ellery. "Do you mean to say that Springer's--" he began in a
thunderous voice.
Ellery seemed not perturbed. "I'm so glad," he said with sly
simplicity. "Mr. Springer, according to his young lady assistant, was
taken suddenly ill not five minutes ago and left in something of a
hurry, saying he would not return to-day."
The old man sank into his chair worriedly. "How under heaven could I
have anticipated this?" he said. "I surely thought he'd keep until
later in the day. Return, he said, did he? We'll never set eyes on him
again!"
"Oh, but you shall," said Ellery gently.
And quoth Ellery: "'Preparation is half the battle, and nothing is lost
by being on one's guard.' The good Spanish don uttered a homely truth
there, padre!"
31
ALIBIS: MARION-ZORN
Muttering imprecations upon the elusive head of James Springer,
the Inspector departed for a flying visit to Headquarters, leaving
Ellery hunched comfortably before the open dormer-window, smoking and
thinking. Djuna, in his uncanny simian way, sat motionless on the floor
at his feet, unblinking in the soft glare of sunlight streaming into
the room.... When the Inspector returned two hours later Ellery, still
smoking, was seated at the desk reading over a batch of notes.
"Still at it?" asked Queen with quick concern, hurling his hat and coat
toward a chair. Djuna noiselessly picked them up and hung them in a
closet.
"Still at it," rejoined Ellery. But there was a deep wrinkle between
his brows. He rose, looked reflectively at his notes, then with a sigh
replaced them in the desk and shrugged his shoulders. The wrinkle
disappeared, dissolved smoothly into small fine lines of humor as he
caught sight of his father's worried mustache and high color.
"Nothing new downtown?" he asked sympathetically. He sat down at the
window again.
Queen paced nervously up and down the rug. "Little enough. Thomas has
looked up that cab-driver of Crouther's--and we've driven up another
blind alley, it seems. The man gave us a pretty clear description of
this tall blond abductor, and of course we've flashed wires through
the entire East. Particularly Massachusetts. With a description of the
car and Bernice Carmody. Now I suppose we'll have to wait...."
"Umm." Ellery flicked the ashes from his cigaret. "Waiting won't bring
Bernice Carmody back from the grave," he said in sudden earnestness.
"And there's still a chance she may be alive.... I shouldn't confine my
search to the northeast, dad. This gang is clever. They may have pulled
the old license-plate trick. They may actually have headed south,
changed cars--any one of a dozen things. In fact, if you found Bernice
Carmody, dead or alive, right here in New York City, it wouldn't
surprise me in the least. After all, the trail ended in Central
Park...."
"Thomas has his eyes open and his beaters out," said the Inspector
disconsolately. "And he's up to the tricks as well as you, my son. If
there's the faintest spoor, he'll follow it--and get not only the girl
but the man too."
"_Cherchez la femme_," said Ellery lightly.... He sat musing. The
Inspector placed his hands behind his small back and strode up and
down, eying Ellery in a puzzled manner meanwhile.
"Marion French called me at Headquarters," he stated suddenly.
Ellery's head lifted slowly. "Yes?"
The old man chuckled. "I thought that would get you!... Yes, the girl
called several times this morning while I was here, and when I finally
got to the office she seemed quite feverish with--well, not excitement
exactly, but anticipation. So, being thoughtful of you, my son--which
is more than you can say about yourself, incidentally--I asked her to
meet me here."
Ellery merely smiled.
"I suppose Weaver's been talking to her," continued the Inspector
grumpily.
"Dad!" Ellery laughed outright. "Occasionally you positively startle me
with your insight...."
The doorbell rang, and Djuna ran to answer it. Marion French, dressed
in a severe black suit and a pert little black hat, her chin set at a
charmingly defiant angle, stood outside.
Ellery sprang to his feet, his fingers straying to his tie. The
Inspector stepped forward quickly and opened wide the anteroom door.
"Come in, come in, Miss French!" He was all smiles and fatherliness.
Marion smiled bewilderingly at Djuna and greeted the Inspector in a
grave undertone as she walked into the living-room. She blushed at
Ellery's warm words of welcome. And sat down in the Inspector's own
armchair at his magnanimous command, perched on the edge of the leather
seat, hands tightly clasped, chiseled lips firm.
Ellery stood by the window. The Inspector drew up a chair and sat close
to the girl, facing her.
"Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about, my dear?" he asked in
a conversational tone.
Marion's glance flew timidly to Ellery and returned. "I--It's about--"
"About your visit to Mr. Zorn's place Monday evening, Miss French?"
inquired Ellery, smiling.
She gasped. "Why--why, you knew!"
Ellery made a deprecatory gesture. "It is hardly knowledge. Some call
it guessing."
The Inspector's eyes bored into hers. But his voice was gentle now.
"Has Mr. Zorn a hold over you--or is it a matter more directly
concerned with your father, my dear?"
She stared from one to the other as if she could not believe her ears.
"To think--" She laughed a trifle hysterically. "And I thought all
the while that it was a deep, dark secret...." A shadow seemed to
lift from her face all at once. "I suppose you want a coherent story.
You have heard, Westley tells me--" she bit her lip and crimsoned--"I
shouldn't have said that--he told me _particularly_ not to say we'd
discussed this...." Both the Inspector and Ellery laughed aloud at her
_naïveté_. "At any rate," she went on, smiling faintly, "I gather that
you've heard about--about my stepmother and Mr. Zorn.... Really, it was
more gossip than anything else!" she cried. She calmed immediately.
"But I wasn't sure. And we all tried--so hard--to keep the nasty rumors
from father. I'm afraid we weren't entirely successful." Fear suddenly
flamed in her eyes. She stopped short and looked down at the floor.
Ellery and the Inspector exchanged glances. "Go on, Miss French," said
the Inspector in the same soothing tone.
"Then"--she spoke more rapidly now--"I overheard, quite by accident,
something that confirmed part of the rumors. Nothing--it hadn't gone
far, their affair, but it was getting dangerous. Even I could see
that.... That's the way things were on Monday."
"You told your father?" asked Queen.
She shivered. "Oh, no! But I had to save daddy's health, his
reputation, his--his peace of mind. I didn't even take Westley into my
confidence. He would have forbidden me to do--what I did. I called on
Mr. Zorn--and his wife."
"Go on."
"I went to their apartment. I was frankly desperate. It was just after
dinner and I knew they'd both be at home. And I wanted Mrs. Zorn to be
there, because she knew--and she was as jealous as a witch. She'd even
threatened--"
"Threatened, Miss French?" demanded the Inspector.
"Oh, it was nothing, Inspector," said Marion hurriedly, "but it told
me that she knew what was going on. And it was as much her fault
that Mr. Zorn fell in love with--with Winifred as anything. Mrs.
Zorn is--oh, quite awful...." She smiled wanly. "You'll think me a
scandalous gossip.... But before both of them I accused Mr. Zorn,
and--and told him it must stop. Mrs. Zorn flew into a terrible rage and
began to swear. All her spite turned against Winifred. She threatened
dire things. Mr. Zorn tried to argue with me, but--I suppose the
weight of two women railing at him just sapped his strength. He left
his apartment in a huff--left me with that awful woman. She looked
almost insane...." Marion shuddered. "So I became a little frightened
and--well, I suppose it _was_ a good deal like running. I could hear
her screaming even in the corridor.... And--and that's all, Inspector
Queen, that's all," she faltered. "When I left the Zorns' apartment it
was a little after ten. I felt weak and sick. I really did walk in the
Park, as I told you yesterday at the store. I walked and walked until
I thought I'd drop from exhaustion, and then I went home. It was just
about midnight."
There was a little silence. Ellery, watching the girl impassively,
turned his head away. The Inspector cleared his throat.
"You went directly to bed, Miss French?" he asked.
The girl stared at him. "Why, what do you mean?... I--" Fright gleamed
again in her eyes. But she said courageously, "Yes, Inspector, I did."
"Did any one see you come into the house?"
"No--no."
"You saw no one, spoke to no one?"
"No."
The Inspector frowned. "Well! At any rate, Miss French, you did the
right thing--the only thing--in telling us about it."
"I didn't want to," she said in a small voice. "But Westley, when I
told him to-day, said I must. And so--"
"Why didn't you want to?" asked Ellery. It was the first time he had
spoken since Marion had begun her story.
The girl did not speak for a long moment. Finally, with a determined
expression, she said: "I'd rather not answer that, Mr. Queen," and rose.
The Inspector was on his feet instantly. He escorted her to the door in
an animate silence.
When he returned, Ellery was chuckling. "As transparent as any angel,"
he said. "Don't frown so, dad. Have you checked up on our good friend
Cyrus French?"
"Oh, that!" The Inspector looked unhappy. "Yes, I had Johnson working
on it last night. Got his report this morning. He was at Whitney's
in Great Neck, all right. I understand he had a slight attack of
indigestion about nine o'clock Monday night. Retired immediately."
"Coincidence?" Ellery grinned.
"Eh?" Queen scowled. "At any rate, that accounts for him."
"Oh, yes?" Ellery sat down and crossed his long legs. "Purely as an
intellectual exercise," he said mischievously, "it does nothing of the
kind. You see, old Cyrus retires at nine. Let us assume that he wishes
to return to New York without the knowledge of his host. Suddenly. That
night. He slips out of the house and goes trudging down the road....
Hold! Did any one see him leave so early in the morning in Whitney's
car?"
The Inspector stared. "The chauffeur, of course--man who drove him into
the city. Johnson told me French left long before any one else was up.
But the chauffeur!"
Ellery chuckled. "Better and better," he said. "Chauffeurs can be
hushed. It has been done.... Our worthy anti-vicious magnate, then,
slips out of the house; perhaps his accomplice, the chauffeur, even
drives him down to the station secretly. There's a train about that
hour. I know, because I took one three weeks ago Monday night when
I returned from Boomer's. And it's only a half-hour or so into Penn
Station. In time to slip through the freight-door...."
"But he'd have to stay all night!" groaned the Inspector.
"Granted. But then there's a sagacious chauffeur to alibi one.... You
see how simple it is?"
"Oh, tosh!" exploded the Inspector.
"I didn't say it wasn't," said Ellery, eyes twinkling. "But it's
something to bear in mind."
"Fairy-tales!" growled the Inspector, and then they laughed together.
"I've arranged to get those alibis, by the way. I called Zorn from the
office and told him to come down here. I want to see how his story
checks up with Marion French's. And what he did after ten last night."
Ellery lost his bantering air. He looked dissatisfied, rubbed his
forehead wearily. "It might be wise," he said, "to get all those alibis
clear, at that. Mightn't be a bad idea to get Mrs. Zorn down here, too.
And I'll emulate the Stoics meanwhile."
The Inspector made a number of telephone calls, while Djuna went
rapidly through telephone directories, and Ellery slumped into an
easy-chair and closed his eyes....
A half-hour later Mr. and Mrs. Zorn sat in the Queen living-room side
by side, facing Inspector Queen. Ellery was far off in a corner, almost
hidden by a jutting bookcase.
Mrs. Zorn was a large-boned woman, well fleshed and rosy. Her
too-golden hair was cut in a severe, startling bob. She had cold green
eyes and a large mouth. She looked, at first glance, under thirty; on
closer observation, faint crinkles around her chin and eyes added ten
years to her appearance. She was dressed in the height of fashion and
carried herself with an air of arrogance.
Despite Marion's story, Mr. and Mrs. Zorn seemed on the most amicable
of terms. Mrs. Zorn acknowledged her husband's introduction of the
Inspector with regal graciousness; she punctuated each remark to Zorn
with a sweet "My dear...."
The Inspector examined her shrewdly with his eyes, and decided not to
mince words.
He turned first to Zorn. "I have called you, as a logical step in this
inquiry, to explain your movements on the night of Monday past, Mr.
Zorn."
The director's hand strayed to his bald pate. "Monday night? The
night--of the murder, Inspector?"
"Exactly."
"Are you insinuating--" Rage leaped into his eyes behind their heavy
gold-rimmed spectacles. Mrs. Zorn made the least gesture with a finger.
Zorn calmed magically. "I had dinner," he said, as if nothing had
happened, "at our apartment with Mrs. Zorn. We stayed in all evening.
At ten o'clock or so I left the apartment and went directly to the
Penny Club on Fifth Avenue and 32nd Street. I met Gray there and
we discussed the Whitney merger for a half-hour or so. I developed
a headache and told Gray I thought I'd try to walk it off. We said
good-night and I left the Club. I did take a long walk up the Avenue
and, in fact, walked all the way home to 74th Street."
"And what time was that, Mr. Zorn?" asked the Inspector.
"I should say about a quarter to twelve."
"Was Mrs. Zorn up--did she see you?"
The large rosy woman chose to reply for her husband. "No, Inspector,
no indeed! I had dismissed the servants for the night a little after
Mr. Zorn left the apartment, and I'd gone to bed myself. I fell
asleep almost immediately, and didn't hear him come in." She smiled,
exhibiting huge white teeth.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand how--" began the Inspector
courteously.
"Mr. Zorn and I have separate sleeping apartments, Inspector Queen,"
she said, dimpling.
"Umm." The Inspector turned once more to Zorn, who had sat perfectly
still during this colloquy. "Did you meet any one you knew during your
walk, Mr. Zorn?"
"Why--no."
"When you entered your apartment house, did any of the house personnel
see you?"
Zorn fumbled with his massive red mustache. "I'm afraid not. There's
only a night-man at the switchboard after eleven, and when I came in he
was absent from his post."
"The elevator, I suppose, is of the self-service type?" asked Queen
dryly.
"Yes--that's correct."
The Inspector turned to Mrs. Zorn. "At what time did you see your
husband in the morning--Tuesday morning?"
She raised her blond brows archly. "Tuesday morning--let me see.... Oh,
yes! It was ten o'clock."
"Fully dressed, Mrs. Zorn?"
"Yes. He was reading his morning paper when I came into our
living-room."
The Inspector smiled, quite wearily, and rose to take a short turn
about the room. Finally he stopped before Zorn and fixed him with a
stern eye. "Why haven't you told me about Miss French's visit to your
apartment Monday evening?"
Zorn grew very still. The effect of Marion's name on Mrs. Zorn was
startling. The color drained from her face and her pupils dilated
tigerishly. It was she who spoke.
"That----!" she said in a low passionate voice. But her body was tense
with anger. The mask of politeness fell from her face and revealed an
older woman--shrewish, cruel.
The Inspector seemed not to hear. "Mr. Zorn?" he said.
Zorn moistened his lips with a nervous tongue. "That's true--true
enough. I didn't see that it had anything to do.... Yes, Miss French
visited us. She left about ten o'clock."
The Inspector made an impatient movement. "You talked about your
relations with Mrs. French, Mr. Zorn?" he asked.
"Yes, yes. That's it." The words tumbled out, gratefully.
"Mrs. Zorn flew into a rage?"
The woman's eyes darted cold green fire. Zorn mumbled, "Yes."
"Mrs. Zorn." The eyes became veiled. "You went to bed shortly after
ten Monday night and did not leave your chamber until ten o'clock the
following morning?"
"Right, Inspector Queen."
"In that case," concluded the Inspector, "there is nothing more to be
said--now."
When the Zorns had departed, the Inspector saw that Ellery was sitting
in his forgotten corner laughing silently to himself.
"I fail to see the joke," said the old man ruefully.
"Oh, dad--the mess and mire of it!" cried Ellery. "_La vie c'est
confusée!_ How beautifully events belie each other.... What do you make
of your late interview?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," growled the Inspector, "but
I know one thing. _Any one_ who can't be accounted for by the visual
evidence of witnesses between eleven-thirty o'clock Monday night and a
little after nine on Tuesday morning might have done this job. Let's
take a hypothetical case. Suppose X is a possibility as the murderer. X
is not seen after eleven-thirty Monday night. He says he went home and
went to sleep. There is no witness. Suppose he didn't go home. Suppose
he slipped into the French store through that freight-entrance. And got
out the next morning at nine. Returned home, sneaked into his apartment
without any one seeing him, and then reappeared about ten-thirty or
so, letting lots of people see him. The presumption is that he slept
home all night and therefore couldn't have committed the crime. Yet
physically it was possible...."
"Too true, too true," murmured Ellery. "Well, evoke the next victim."
"He should be here any moment now," said the Inspector, and went into
the bathroom to bathe his perspiring face.
32
ALIBIS: MARCHBANKS
Marchbanks glowered. He bore himself with the sullenness of a man who
nurses a grudge. He snapped at the Inspector and ignored Ellery. He
deposited his stick and hat on the table with a bang, rudely refusing
to allow Djuna to take them from him. He sat down uninvited and drummed
nastily on the arm of the chair.
"Well, sir," thought the Inspector, "we'll have at _you_." He took
a pinch of snuff with deliberation, regarding Marchbanks curiously.
"Marchbanks," he said in curt tones, "where were you Monday evening and
night?"
The dead woman's brother scowled. "What's this--a third degree?"
"If you choose to make it so," retorted the Inspector, in his most
unpleasant voice. "I repeat--where were you Monday night?"
"If you must know," said Marchbanks bitingly, "I was out on Long
Island."
"Oh, Long _Island_!" The Inspector seemed duly impressed. "When did you
go, where did you go, and how long did you stay?"
"You people always insist on a 'story,'" wheezed Marchbanks, setting
his feet solidly on the rug. "Very well. I left town at about seven
o'clock Monday evening. In my car...."
"You drove yourself?"
"Yes. I--"
"Anybody with you?"
"NO!" shouted Marchbanks. "Do you want my story or don't you? I--"
"Continue," said the Inspector judicially.
Marchbanks glared. "As I began to say--I left town Monday evening at
seven in my car. I was bound for Little Neck--"
"Little Neck, eh?" interpolated the Inspector exasperatingly.
"Yes, Little Neck," stormed Marchbanks. "What's wrong in that? I had
been invited to a small party at the house of a friend of mine there--"
"His name?"
"Patrick Malone," replied Marchbanks resignedly. "When I got there, I
found no one at home except Malone's man. He explained that at the last
moment Malone had been called away on business and had had to call off
the party...."
"Did you know that such an eventuality might occur?"
"If you mean did I know that Malone was going to be called away--yes,
in a way. He'd mentioned the possibility of it over the 'phone to me
earlier in the day. At any rate, I saw no use in staying, so I left
at once and proceeded off the main road to my own shack, a few miles
farther on. I keep it for occasional jaunts into the Island. I--"
"Have you any servants there?"
"No. It's a small place and I prefer solitude when I'm out that way. So
I slept there overnight and returned to the City in the morning by car."
The Inspector smiled sardonically. "I suppose you met no one all night
or in the morning who might verify your statements?"
"I don't know what you mean. What are you driving at--?"
"Yes or no?"
"... No."