Cop Out by Ellery Queen

upstairs bathroom. She finally got Bibby back to sleep. Malone was holding an icebag to his swollen jaw, and with the bandage on his bloody head that Ellen had applied he looked like a refugee from a defeated army.
    Ellen said with a shiver, “Hold me, Loney.”
    He held her.
    â€œI’m scared.”
    â€œWe’re still alive,” Malone said.
    The Irish in her stirred, and she showed the faintest dimple. “You call this living?”
    He lowered the icebag to kiss her. “That’s my girl.”
    â€œLoney, are we going to get out of this?”
    â€œI think we’re all right for the time being.”
    â€œAnd how long is that?”
    He was silent.
    â€œCouldn’t you make a rope out of the bedclothes and climb out the window while they’re tearing up the house?” She’s back at the movies again. “You could make a call to Chief Secco from the Cunninghams’ or the Rochelles’ …”
    â€œHow long do you think you and Bibby would last if they found me gone? You’ve got to face it, Ellen. We’re in this alone.”
    She was silent.
    I’m in this alone.
    A glass crashed downstairs and they heard Hinch laughing. He’s found the bottle of Scotch Don James gave me for finally catching that white kid who kept heaving trashcans through their front windows. He tried not to think of Hinch drunk and tightened his grip on Ellen.
    After a while Malone said, “Our best chance is if we can get the money back or at least figure out who took it. I could maybe make a deal with Furia, the money for him letting us go.”
    â€œI thought you thought Furia stole it.”
    â€œI thought he did. Now I’m not sure. A punk like him could put on an act, I suppose, but I think I’d see through it, I can usually tell when they’re lying. He sounded pretty convincing to me.”
    â€œBut if it wasn’t Furia who could it have been? Maybe it was Hinch after all, Loney. He could have been like in a crouch—”
    â€œCan’t you remember anything else about the man who hit you?”
    She set her head back against the patchwork quilt. “I told you all I saw.”
    â€œSometimes things can come back. We’ve got to try, baby. Ellen?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI know you’re fagged out, but don’t go to sleep on me now. Think! His suit. What color was it?”
    Ellen’s head rolled a negative.
    â€œWas it a suit? Or could it have been a sports outfit? Did the pants and jacket match?”
    â€œI don’t know. I didn’t notice.”
    â€œOr maybe a leather jacket?”
    She shook her head again.
    â€œCould he have been wearing a topcoat?”
    â€œI just didn’t see, Loney.”
    â€œA hat?”
    â€œNo,” Ellen said this time. “No hat, or I’d remember. The stocking was drawn over his whole head.”
    â€œYou can see something of the face through one of those sheer stockings. Do you remember anything about his face?”
    â€œJust a mashed nose.”
    â€œMashed? Like Hindi’s?”
    â€œA stocking would mash … anybody’s … nose …”
    â€œEllen, you’re falling asleep again.” He shook her, and she opened her eyes.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œHair? Ears? Tie? Hands? Feet?”
    She kept shaking her head. But then her eyes got big and she pushed away from the bed. “His feet, Loney! He was wearing galoshes. Or overshoes.”
    â€œOvershoes.” Malone stared at her. “Today? It’s been dry all day, not a cloud in the sky. You sure, Ellen?”
    She nodded.
    â€œThat’s a hot one. Overshoes … What’s the matter?”
    â€œI just remembered something else.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHis hands. He was wearing gloves. I saw the hand coming down after I was hit. I didn’t see flesh. It was a man’s glove. Black leather.”
    â€œGloves,” Malone