callsâone for an emergency ambulance, the other to his father; and then he tore through the apartment to the service door and began leaping down the eleven flights like a mountain goat.
If she dies, he was thinking, those parked cars around here ought to be tagged as accessories. The ten minutes he had lost looking for a parking space might have saved what was left of Modesta Ryanâs life.
He plunged out under the canopy, followed by the astonished doorman. Nothing had changed. The cloudburst continued to swab down the streets. The same three cars were lined up between the Atheniaâs entrance and the adjoining building, his own foremost; the same doctorâs car was still double-parked beside the middle car of the three, boxing it in.
Of course the man in the trench coat was gone.
âThen this is the way it went, Wladeczki?â Inspector Queen said to the doorman in the light of the police torches. âYou were on duty since four P . M ., due to go off at midnight, but you stayed on because the storm held up your relief man. You didnât leave this lobby at any time. Nobody could have sneaked past you. All right.
âMiss Ryan came home from rehearsal in a taxi about seven P . M . She was alone. About eight her maid left for the night. Between eight and a few minutes past eleven only five people entered or left the building. They are all longtime tenants. At eleven-thirty Mr. Trench Coat walks into the lobby. Five minutes later an M.D. on emergency call to an old lady tenantâwhoâs very sick in 4-Gâdrives up and complains to you he canât find space for his car. You let the doctor double-parkââ
âAnd heâs still up in 4-G,â said Sergeant Velie. âThe other five, the tenants, alibi okay, too.â
âNow about Mr. Trench Coat. He didnât come by cab, you say. You donât get a real good look at him by your flash, the way he has his hat pulled down and his collar turned up. He talks in a croaky whisper, as if he has a bad cold. He says he has an appointment with Miss Modesta Ryan, you tell him heâll have to walk up to the penthouse, he goes up the stairway, and thatâs the last you see of him till a few minutes past midnight when he ducks out the stairway door under your noseâand the nose,â added the Inspector gently, âof the eminent Mr. Queen here.â
Ellery gave his father a wan look. âDid you notice,â he asked the doorman, âhow wet his trench coat and hat were when he first came into the lobby?â
âNo wetter than yours was, Mr. Queen,â said the doorman. âGot my name spelled right, Sergeant?â
âTime will tell,â said the Sergeant. âHey, Goldie. Well?â
Detective Goldberg came in, shaking himself like a dog. He had found Modesta Ryanâs maid asleep in her Harlem flat, he reported; the maid knew nothing except that on Miss Ryanâs arrival home she had made three phone callsâone to Kid Catt, one to Mr. Shanville, and the last to Mr. Van Olde. But the maid hadnât listened to the conversations, so she couldnât say which ones Miss Ryan had given the heave and which one sheâd made the happy man.
âAny report from the hospital yet?â muttered the Inspector.
âSheâs this way that way,â said Sergeant Velie.
âBut did she talk?â
âSheâs got all she can do to keep on breathing, Inspector. Sheâs still unconscious.â
âThen we do it the hard way,â said the old man gloomily. âItâs a cinch Trench Coat was one of Modestaâs two rejects. He didnât waste any time, did he? As soon as those three are brought in, have âem taken up to the penthouse. Coming, Ellery?â
His son sighed. âIf I could have found a place to park as soon as I got here â¦â
Hollow laughter followed him to the stairway door.
At twenty minutes after two the Inspector
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