QED by Ellery Queen Page A

finished with the last of the three interrogations. He found Ellery in Modesta Ryan’s living room staring reproachfully at her phone.
    â€œAny luck?”
    â€œI’ve called every columnist in town, all her close friends. She just didn’t tell anybody.”
    The old man grunted. He stuck his head into the hall. “Get those cuties in here.”
    Shanville made his entrance with a rather set smile. The disheveled blond hair was all dagger points, and with the slight upcurve of his lips he looked Satanic.
    â€œWhat now?” he asked. “The rack?”
    About Kid Catt there was a look of astounded suffering, as if he had just been knocked down. His powerful frame sagged into a chair and his black eyes stared dully at the chalkmarks on the tiles near the piano.
    â€œWho did it?” the fighter mumbled. “Just tell me which one of these two did it.”
    â€œUnderplay, Kid,” said the actor pleasantly. “This is a professional audience.”
    The black eyes looked at him. “Lay off, actor,” the Kid said.
    â€œOr else?” smiled Shanville.
    â€œI’m leaving,” said Richard Van Olde II abruptly.
    The tycoon was very angry. His naturally pale skin was almost green, the lashless eyes murderous.
    â€œJust another few minutes, Mr. Van Olde,” said Inspector Queen.
    â€œA very few, please. Then I either walk out of here unmolested or I telephone my attorneys and the Commissioner.”
    â€œYes, sir . Now, gentlemen, each of you wanted to marry Miss Ryan—bad. And each of you got a phone call from her tonight. One she told she’d finally decided to marry. Two—the other two—she brushed. One of those two promptly came here tonight and shot her.
    â€œYou think you’ve got us stymied,” the Inspector went on, showing his dentures. “Each man was found home in bed. And while we have the bullet—probably from a .38—search of your respective premises has failed to turn up the gun. Or the trench coat or Stetson. On top of that, each claims he was the man Modesta told over the phone she was accepting! Two of those claims are lies, of course, to take the heat off.
    â€œGentlemen, I have news for you,” said Inspector Queen softly. “Thrown-away guns, coats, and hats have a way of turning up. And you’ve got no alibis for the time of the shooting. You were home in bed, say all of you, but none of you can prove it, not even you, Shanville, because you occupy a separate bedroom and weren’t even heard coming home—”
    â€œDad.”
    The Inspector looked around, surprised. Ellery was on his feet, the picture of wry hopelessness.
    â€œI don’t see any point to going any further with this now, do you? Let’s call it a night. These gentlemen won’t run away, and we can all use some sleep.”
    The old man blinked.
    â€œAll right,” he said.
    But when the three had gone, he growled to his son, “And what’s the big plot, Master Mind?”
    â€œIt’s simple enough,” Ellery said as they crouched near the glass outer doors of the lobby. It was after three, the rain had stopped, and the chrome on the dark cars outside winked damply in the street lights. “We’re waiting for our friend to come back.”
    â€œCome back? ” said Sergeant Velie. “What is he, goofed?”
    â€œCase of necessity, Velie,” murmured Ellery. “Consider. How did Trench Coat get to the Athenia—?”
    â€œ Get here?”
    â€œYes. By cab? No, says the doorman. On foot? No, because if he’d walked or even run from as close by as the corner of Madison he’d have been soaked in that downpour, whereas the doorman said his trench coat and hat were no wetter than mine when I got here—and I had to make only two jumps from my car to get under the canopy. Conclusion? Trench Coat came in a car, and he parked almost as close to the canopy as I did