A Fine and Private Place

only one who benefits, is Virginia Whyte Importuna. To the tune of half a billion smackers, for God’s sake. That’s a powerful lot of smackers. I guess when there’s that much moola on the line,” the Inspector philosophized, “it kind of dazzles you. Puts spots before your eyes. Anyway, as a rider to what I just said, not only did her husband’s murder put half a billion smackers in Mrs. Importuna’s pocket, but it’s a fact that he was knocked off just after she became his sole heir. The ink on his new will was hardly dry. Right?”

“Right,” Ellery said, “but-”

“No buts. That takes care of motive. How about opportunity, like you always put it?”

“As I always put it,” Ellery said mechanically.

“Like, as, what’s the difference? All right, how about opportunity? Nothing to it. Virginia could have marched into hubby’s room bigger than life any time she wanted that night. Who could have got in there easier or more naturally? Who had a better right? Okay?”

“Okay,” Ellery said, “but that’s no argument at all. I still want to make the point-”

“Third, the weapon. And what is it? A hunk of cast-iron sculpture that belongs to her.”

“Which the killer went out of his way-I beg your pardon, her way-to lay hands on for the purpose subsequently displayed, the killing of Importuna. Why didn’t she leave a signed confession pinned to his pajamas? That would have been even more brilliant.”

“Maybe the gender of your pronoun is still right,” Inspector Queen said, his forefinger alongside his nose.

“What’s that mean?”

“The secretary.”

“Peter Ennis? That’s always possible, of course, especially if the D.A. can produce proof that they’ve been having an affair. On the other hand, there’s well-established testimony that he left 99 East right after their threesome dinner the night of the murder to go back to his own apartment. Is there any counterevidence connecting Ennis even indirectly with the actual crime?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ve been holding out on me!”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this at all. Suppose I told you,” the Inspector said, “that we have a witness who saw Ennis drive away from in front of his brownstone shortly before 9 o’clock that night, and another witness who saw him come home around 3:30 in the morning?”

“Has Ennis been questioned about that?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He denied having left his place at any time after he got home that evening from the Importunas’ dinner. He said he watched television for a while and then went to bed. Everybody in on the interrogation agreed he was lying in his teeth. He’s not a very convincing liar.”

“How reliable are your witnesses?”

“The D.A. thinks so much of them he’s ready to go for a grand jury indictment. Murder One.”

Ellery was silent. Finally he said, “Conspiracy?”

“Yes.”

“Not much of a case.”

“In how many Murder Ones do you get an eyewitness?” The Inspector shrugged. “There’ve been all sorts of howls to lay this case to rest, Ellery. From the mountaintops. At that, it may turn out to be a better case than it looks. Those two were two-timing Importuna for a fact, so they’ve got to have guilty consciences to start with. The D.A. thinks one of them may break.”

“What about all those 9s?” Ellery murmured.

“They’re the work of a nut. Or they’re just red herrings. Either way they don’t mean anything.”

“What did you say?”

“What did I say about what?”

“Red herrings…?”

“That’s right. What’s the matter with you?”

“Red herrings.” Ellery’s echo sounded fevered. His father stared at him. “You know, dad, you may have put your finger on the crux of this thing? That could be exactly what they are! Nothing more or less than red herrings.”

“That’s what I just said-”

“But could they all be red herrings?” Ellery muttered. “So many of them? Every one of them?” He sailed out of the cracked black leather chair that had been his by right of occupancy over years of similar consultations, and he began to semaphore with his long arms. “Did I ever quote you that 17th century nonsense rhyme written by everybody’s favorite author, Anon.?

A man in the wilderness asked me, How many strawberries grow in the sea? I answered him, as I thought good, As many as red herrings grow in the wood.

“Red herrings in the wood. The forest. Daddy, I do believe I’ve got something!”

“I’ll tell you what you’ve got,” his father grunted. “You’ve got sunstroke.”

“No, listen-”

But at this juncture Sergeant Thomas Velie plunged through the Inspector’s doorway holding aloft by its sharp edges a familiar-looking envelope.

“Would you believe it?” the sergeant shouted. “Another letter from Friend Nutsy. Special delivery this time.”

“Impossible,” Ellery said. “Impossible!”

But it was true. The message read: who was with virginia lunch december nine nineteen sixty-six?

“It’s from the same crackpot,” the Inspector said in disgust. “Same hand-printed capitals, same ball-point ink, same post-office stamped envelope-”

“And the same 9 words. Well, hardly the same,” Ellery said rapidly. “You know, dad, this could be an interesting development. If your correspondent is a crackpot, he certainly seems to be a crackpot with inside information.”

“You mean like Nino was a semipro ballplayer, and had a golf course, and all those other interesting developments that developed to be opium dreams?”

“Just the same, I wonder whom Virginia did lunch with on December 9, 1966. Any information on that in the file?”

“I can’t tell you where I was on December 9, 1966,” his father said, exasperated. “How should I know where she was?”

“Then I suggest you find out.”

“You find out. This bird’s wasted enough of the city’s money.”

“Then it’s all right if I go on a fishing trip vis-a-viH

Virginia Importuna? While you mosey on over to the D.A.’s office and get him to hold off a bit on his great big prosecutional plans? Thanks, dad!”

Ellery dashed.

* * *

“What’s on your mind this time, Mr. Queen?” Then Virginia smiled a little. “I mean, I know what’s on your mind-it’s always the same thing, isn’t it?-but there must be some new angle you’re working on.”

“It’s not what I’m working on that should be concerning you, Mrs. Importuna,” Ellery said in his most Delphic tones. “It’s what the district attorney and Centre Street are working on.”

The stunning eyes grew huge. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to tell you something that could get me into a great deal of trouble if it became known downtown that I’d tipped you off, Mrs. Importuna. The D.A. is preparing at this moment to haul you before a grand jury with the hope of getting an indictment against you on a murder-conspiracy charge.”

“Conspiracy… “

“You see, they know what’s been going on behind your husband’s back, Mrs. Importuna, between Peter Ennis and you.”