A Fine and Private Place

“Virginia, this is Inspector Queen of police headquarters, and this is Inspector Queen’s son, Ellery Queen. Mr. Queen is an amateur criminologist who’s interested himself in our troubles. Oh, by the way, my dear, there’s been no opportunity to notify you. Marco just committed suicide.”

“Marco…?” Faintly. But that was all she said. She bounced back from her husband’s savage announcement with the speed of a rebound. Her only concession to shock was to sink into the nearest so-called chair, in the new pneumatic mode, a billowing transparent bladderlike creation inflated with air.

Importuna seemed proud of her fortitude. He moved toward her with a fond, bitter look.

“And now it seems,” he went on, “Mr. Queen’s nose is sniffing in my direction. He just asked me, Virginia, where I was last night between 9:30 and 10:30. Will you tell him?”

Virginia Importuna said immediately, “My husband and I, with four guests, were at the opera.” Her very feminine voice was deadly in its control, a musical enigma. Ellery was enthralled. He had heard of Importuna’s devotion to his wife; he was beginning to understand why. She was the fitting lady to his lordship.

“In our season box, Mr. Queen,” Importuna said. “Parsifal,. This will shock you, no doubt, but I find Parsifal an interminable bore. Hard for an Italian peasant who enjoys Puccini and Rossini to sit through. But then Wagner has never been one of my enthusiasms, even ideologically, in spite of Mussolini’s love for the Germans. Although Virginia adores Wagner-don’t you, my dear?-naturally, being all woman. Nevertheless, I deserve a hero’s medal-I endured the entire performance. Didn’t I, my dear?”

“Yes, Nino.”

“So that at 10 o’clock, since that’s the hour you’re interested in, Mr. Queen, at 10 o’clock, give or take not a half hour but more like two hours, Mrs. Importuna and I were in the company of four other people. Constantly. None of us left the box except at intermissions, and then we left as a group. Isn’t that so, Virginia?”

“Yes, Nino.”

“You’ll want to know their names, of course. Senator and Mrs. Henry L. Factor-that’s United States Senator Factor, Mr. Queen. Oh, and Bishop Tumelty of the New York diocese and Rabbi Winkleman of the Park Avenue Reformed Temple. I think the rabbi enjoyed the Parsifal as much as the bishop! Didn’t you think so, too, my dear? Your father can, and I’m sure will, Mr. Queen, check up on our alibi with the senator and the two clergymen. Have I answered your question?”

“You’ve answered my question,” Ellery said.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

“A great many things, Mr. Importuna, but I have the feeling I’d be wasting your time and mine.”

The squat man shrugged. “You, Inspector Queen?”

“No, sir.”

But Importuna persisted in a brittle, courteous way. “Perhaps you have a few questions for my wife, Inspector, now that she’s here.”

“No,” the old man said. “No more questions tonight.”

“Benone! Allora rivederla.” He clucked at his wife and Ennis as if they were small children. “Andiamo, andiamo! We still have work tonight, Peter, on that Midwest dairy combine. And I can’t keep Mr. E waiting upstairs forever.”

The Queens stood silently by as the Importunas swept archward followed at some distance with lowered eyes by Peter Ennis. The survivor of the brothers halted so unexpectedly that his wife passed entirely under the arch and out of their view, and Ennis almost ran him down.

“Oh, Mr. Queen, it occurs to me… “

“Yes?” Ellery said.

“By the way, may I call you by your Christian name?”

Ellery smiled. “You mean like, say, Peter?” He saw the neckline under Ennis’s dark blond hair redden, and he said, “No offense, Mr. Ennis. I was merely exemplifying a relationship.”

“Touche, Mr. Queen.” Importuna smiled back; his teeth were very large and disconcerting. “Are you available for profitable employment? As an executive, of course. In a confidential capacity. I can use a man of your talents and temperament.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Importuna, but no, thanks. I’m the self-employed type.”

“Ah. Well. Too bad. If you should ever change your mind, Mr. Queen, you know where I am.”

“I wonder,” Ellery said on the way home in the squad car.

“Wha’?” Inspector Queen was nodding.

“Importuna’s parting shot. About knowing where he is. I wonder if anyone, including his wife, knows where Nino Importuna is. Where he is or what he is. A tough man. Dangerous man! Talking about his wife, dad, did you notice something remarkable about Peter Ennis?”

“You hop around like hot fat,” the Inspector complained. “If we’re talking about Mrs. Importuna-quite a knockout, by the way-why should I notice anything about Ennis? He hardly glanced at her all the time she was there.”

“To borrow from the old master, that’s what’s remarkable, dad. I suppose Ennis could be gay, although I don’t think so, but if he’s a red-blooded man how could he be in the same room with that ravishing female and not keep looking at her, reacting to her in some way?”

“You figure it out,” the old man mumbled. “Far as I’m concerned the murder of Julio Importunato was solved when his brother Marco hanged himself. And, son.”

“Yes, dad?”

“Don’t tangle with Importuna. Take my advice, you’ll o* 1 come to grief. He carries too much clout for you… what? What did you say?”

“Mr. E,” Ellery muttered.

“Who?”

“Mr. E. Didn’t you hear Importuna? He mustn’t keep Mr. E waiting. I wonder who the devil Mr. E is… Dad?”

But the Inspector was asleep.

Sixth Month JUNE, 1967

The fetus takes on a leaner appearance. Eyelashes and eyebrows appear. The body grows rapidly.

They were in his den. Ennis, his long torso hunched over his notebook and the pile of papers and cables, sat at the foot of the Florentine table. To his annoyance (a chronic one) he had had to drag a chair over and make room for himself. Although Ennis had his own workroom in the apartment, Importuna had never thought to make permanent provision for him in the den during these work sessions, which had taken place regularly for years. I’m a very modest confidential secretary, Ennis thought, except for my secret life with the boss’s wife; a small desk for my personal use in his sanctum isn’t too much to ask of one of America’s richest men. It would hardly encroach on the privacy or prerogatives of His Majesty, since I’m never within these sacred walls except on his orders and sufferance. And why the hell doesn’t he have that outside wall knocked out and a picture window put in so that the den gets some decent light? As well as having a new air conditioner installed; this one literally stinks, it does such a bad job on his eternal stogy smoke.

None of this showed on Ennis’s face. He waited, a paragon among puppets.

Importuna was pacing. There was a frown on his massive face that interested Ennis. It was not the familiar frown of the padrone, before which presidents of companies and chairmen of boards quailed. This frown was directed toward something within himself.

Suddenly Ennis thought, Can it be fear?

The great Importuna afraid of something?

He was roused by Importuna’s grating voice. “What was that last, Peter?”

“A memorandum to the sales forces of the E.I.S. offices in Zurich. Noting that the rate of redemptions over sales in the mutual funds has been running around $2-million a day. This trend must be reversed at once. Quote we must avoid at all costs a loss of confidence in the funds. All personnel are to redouble their efforts to restore a positive level of sales over redemptions as quickly as possible unquote.”