The Chinese Orange Mystery

“Shrewd,” said Ellery with an admiring grin.

“We’ll find out who this bird is ourselves, or else he’ll be identified by some anxious relative. We let the boys snap their cameras all over the place last night after you left, and his smiling pan is in the papers and on the street this morning. Wouldn’t be surprised if somebody ‘phoned in about him any minute. When that happens, we’re on Easy Street.”

“Headed, I suppose you mean, for the last round-up. A conclusion and a confidence,” drawled Ellery, “in neither of which I can concur.” He put his head between his hands and stared at the ceiling. “All that backwards rigmarole . . . remarkable, dad, simply remarkable. I don’t think you realize just how remarkable it is.”

“I realize how cock-eyed it is,” growled the Inspector. “Well, I suppose you’re all set to spring the big surprise. Who did it? I don’t take any stock in your ‘puzzled’ cracks.”

“No, no, I meant that, dad. I haven’t the faintest notion who did it, or for what reason. Not the faintest even in the general sense. Any one of three classes of persons may have turned everything topsy-turvy. The murderer, his possible accomplice, or some cautious blunderer onto the scene of the crime. Of course, the victim’s out?he died instantly. I could make out a case against any of the three having done all that hocus-pocus. Yet one of them must have.”

“Say,” said the Inspector suddenly, sitting erect. “How the devil do we know the fat little bird didn’t turn everything topsy-turvy himself? He could have done it before he was murdered!”

“And what,” said Ellery, rising and going to the window, “became of his necktie?”

“Might have thrown it out the window, or else the killer did . . . . But no, that’s wrong,” muttered the Inspector. “We searched the setback below the windows and didn’t find anything. Couldn’t have burned it, either. Fireplace is phony, for one thing; and for another there were no ashes.”

“Burning,” said Ellery without turning, “is conceivable, for the ashes might have been carried off. But you’re wrong on a different count. He was struck on~ the back of the head. When he was found his coat was on backwards. His topcoat and scarf were off?lying on a chair. There are bloodstains on the collar of the topcoat. That means that when he was struck he was wearing the topcoat. Unless you assume the preposterous theory that his clothes under the topcoat were on backwards at the time he walked into the Chancellor, then you must concede that his murderer turned the clothes around on his body after he was struck and after the stains splashed the collar of his topcoat. If it was the murderer who turned the clothes backwards, then surely it was the murderer who turned all the other things backwards, too.”

“So what?”

“Pshaw, nothing at all. I’m in deepest muck. And what do you say to those iron spears stuck up his clothing, eh?”

“Oh, that,” said the Inspector vaguely. “That’s simply another proof that it’s all nutty, the whole business. Couldn’t be a sensible reason for that.”

Ellery scowled out the window without replying.

“Well, you worry about those things. We’ll work along the orthodox lines. I tell you this other tripe doesn’t mean a damn.”

“Everything means something,” cried Ellery, wheeling. “I’ll wager you a good dinner to a thimbleful of bootleg that when we’ve solved this case we’ll find that the backwards business is at its root.” The Inspector looked skeptical. “One thing is certain. Everything was turned backwards to indicate something backwards about something or somebody connected with the dead man. Therefore I’m going to devote my feeble energies to discovering, if I can, everything which possesses a possible backwards interpretation, no matter how trivial or far- fetched it may appear on the surface.”

“Good luck to you,” grunted the Inspector. “I think you’re batty even to bother.”

“And as a matter of fact,” said Ellery, flushing a little, “there are already several items connected with possible backwards interpretations. What d’ye know about that?”

The old gentleman’s fingers paused in the act of raising the lid of his snuff-box. “There are?”

“There are. But you,” said Ellery with a grim smile, “do your job and I’ll do mine. And I do wonder who’ll get there first!”

* * *

Sergeant Velie barged through the Inspector’s door, his derby pushed far back on his leonine head. There was unusual excitement in his hard eyes.

“Inspector! Mornin’, Mr. Queen . . . . Inspector, I got a hot lead!”

“Well, well, Thomas,” said the Inspector quietly. “Found out who the stiff is, I’ll bet.”

Velie’s face fell. “Nah. No such luck. It’s about Kirk.”

“Kirk! Which one?”

“The young ‘un. Know what? He was spotted in the Chancellor at half-past four yesterday afternoon!”

“Seen? Where?”

“In one of the elevators. I dug up an elevator-boy who remembers takin’ Kirk up around that time.”

“To what floor, Velie?” asked Ellery slowly.

“He didn’t remember that. But he was sure it wasn’t the regular floor?the twenty-second. He’d ‘a’ remembered that, he said.”

“Curious logic,” remarked Ellery in a dry tone. “Walking along Broadway and Fifth Avenue, eh? That’s all, Sergeant?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Well, stick to him, Thomas,” said the Inspector with an abstracted look. “We’ll keep that under our hats. Don’t want to scare him. But you check that bird’s pedigree from the day he was weaned. Got the stamp and jewelry leads covered?”

“The boys are still out.”

“Right.”

* * *

When the door had shivered at Sergeant Velie’s parting slam Ellery said with a frown: “And that reminds me. I’d quite forgotten . . . . Have a peep at this.” He pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket and tossed it to the Inspector.

The Inspector looked at him narrowly. Then he picked up the envelope and smoothed it flat. He slipped his thin fingers inside and extracted a sheet of paper. “Where’d you get this?”

“I stole it.”

“Stole it!”

“Therein hangs a tale.” Ellery shrugged. “I’m rapidly sliding downhill, pater, as far as my morals are concerned. Simply deplorable . . . . When Kirk and I arrived at the office at a quarter of seven Osborne gave Kirk a note which Macgowan had left only minutes before. I thought Kirk looked queer when he read it. He stuffed it into his pocket and then we discovered the dead man.”

“So, so?”

“Later, before dinner, I asked Kirk for the note and he refused to show it to me. Said it was something personal between him and Macgowan, who’s his best friend as well as his intended brother-in-law. Well, sir, in the height of the excitement attending my eviction by the wrathy Dr. Kirk, I managed to spill some excellent Oporto over young Mr. Kirk’s clothes and with ludicrous ease snaggled the envelope from his pocket. What d’ye make of it?”

The note said:

I know now. You’re dealing with a dangerous character. Go easy until I can talk to you aside. Don, watch your step.

Mac.

It was a hurried pencil-scrawl.

The Inspector smiled wolfishly. “The plot, as they say in the movies, thickens. Cripe! I wish he’d been a little more explicit. Have to have those two lads on the carpet after all.”

“Nothing of the kind,” said Ellery quickly. “I tell you that will spoil everything. Here!” He grabbed a