The Door Between by Ellery Queen

cushions and Djuna’s coffee and gossip.
    Then the doorbell rang, and Djuna opened the door. Whereupon a tall brown young man with his hands in his pockets sauntered through the foyer without being asked. Eva caught her breath.
    “Hi, Queen,” said Terry Ring, scaling his hat on to the mantel. “Remember Mrs Ring’s brat Terence?”
    Even here!
    If Ellery was displeased at the interruption, he did not show it. He shook hands cordially and introduced Terry to Dr. MacClure.
    “My Dad’s told me all about your part in this deplorable business, Terry,” said Ellery. “That is – all he knows, which doesn’t seem to be much.”
    Terry smiled, eyed Dr. MacClure, who returned the stare, and sat down.
    Eva murmured, sipping her coffee. “So you know Mr. Ring?”
    “Who doesn’t? Terry and I are brothers under the skin. We’ve both pestered the department so long they hate the sight of us.”
    “Only difference,” said Terry amiably, “is I work at it and you don’t. I always say,” he continued, speaking over Eva’s head, “you can trust a guy who works for his living, but you can’t always trust a – what do you call it? – dilettante.”
    So he didn’t want her to tell Ellery Queen. As if she would! She suppressed a shiver.
    And then she sat very still. Mr. Ellery Queen was regarding her with fixity. He turned to regard Terry Ring the same way. Then he sat down with a cigaret and regarded both of them together.
    “Well, Terry,” he said at last, “and what’s the purpose of this unexpected visit?”
    “Friendly, just friendly,” grinned Terry.
    “I suppose you know you’re being watched.”
    “Huh? Oh, sure,” said Terry with a wave of his hand.
    “I’m informed that since the afternoon of Miss Leith’s death you’ve been following Miss MacClure about like a masher.”
    The brown man’s eyes contracted. “That’s my business.”
    “And mine,” said Dr. MacClure quietly.
    “It couldn’t be,” said Ellery, “that you’re afraid Miss MacClure may say something to someone which might be damaging – let’s say, to you?”
    Terry opened a fresh packet of cigarets. Ellery got up and politely held a match for him. “What put that idea in your head?”
    “Dr. MacClure and I have decided you know rather more than you’ve told my father.”
    “That makes you a couple of smart hombres. Been spending the doc’s dough on transatlantic telephone calls?”
    Ellery blew some smoke. “I think we’d better start with a fresh slate. All right, Doctor.”
    Eva said in a rush: “Daddy, can’t we – I mean, let’s have this talk with Mr. Queen some other time. Let’s go home. I’m sure Mr. Queen and Mr. Ring will excuse us.”
    “Eva,” said Dr. MacClure heavily. He placed his hairy hands on her shoulders. “I want you to tell me something.”
    Eva was so frightened she gnawed at the forefinger of her glove. She had never seen Dr. MacClure so pale, so stern. The three men just looked at her; she felt trapped.
    “Eva.” The doctor tilted her face up. “Did you kill Karen?”
    The question burst over her with such a shock she could not reply. She could only stare back into Dr. MacClure’s troubled blue eyes in a daze.
    “You’ve got to answer me, honey. I must know.”
    “And I,” said Ellery, “I must know, too. As a matter of fact, Miss MacClure, you’re doing your father a great injustice by looking at him with such horror. The question is really mine.”
    She dared not move, dared not glance at Terry Ring.
    “I’d like to have one thing understood,” said Ellery cheerfully, and Dr. MacClure made a broken gesture and sat down on the divan. “We’re four people in a room, and these walls haven’t even the vestige of ears. And my father is away.”
    “Your father,” choked Eva.
    “You must understand, Miss MacClure, that there’s no sentiment in our family where business is concerned. My father lives his life, and I live mine. Our methods, our techniques, are different.