The Player on the Other Side by Ellery Queen Page B

angel.’
    â€˜Tom!’ said Ann Drew. They no longer opened their conversations with, ‘How’s yours?’
    â€˜Sorry I’m late. I had to go pick up a girl friend.’
    â€˜Oh?’
    â€˜How’s Miss Myra?’
    â€˜About the same. Sometimes I think she doesn’t realize about Robert, even though she went to the funeral. What girl friend?’ Something said Yeep! in a high soprano. Unnoticing, Tom said, ‘I get so dog -gone sorry for her.’
    â€˜Sorry for whom?’
    Yeep!
    â€˜Miss Myra, of course. I wonder what she was like — before.’
    â€˜Tom Archer, will you answer my question? What girl friend?’
    Yeep! This time it was loud and clear. She clutched his free arm. ‘What was that?’
    â€˜What was what?’
    â€˜Didn’t you hear it?’
    â€˜I didn’t hear anything.’
    â€˜Something went … yeep,’ she said.
    â€˜Went what?’
    â€˜Yeep!’ she repeated angrily.
    â€˜Honey,’ Archer said, ‘do you feel all right?’
    Yeep! Yeep!
    â€˜There!’ she said triumphantly. Then she said, ‘Tom Archer, are you making that noise?’
    â€˜On my honor as a non-philandering philosophic philatelist, I am making no noise.’
    Yeep!
    â€˜Then who is?’
    â€˜Beelzebub, I presume.’
    â€˜ Who? ’
    â€˜Beelzebub,’ said Tom Archer, ‘meet Ann. Ann, meet Beelzebub.’ So saying, he swept back the coat rolled on his left forearm and extracted a squirming, yeeping German Shepherd puppy with unstarched ears and enormous feet.
    â€˜Oh, Tom , he’s sweet ! Oh, oh, oh!’ she cried and crooned, nuzzling the puppy. ‘Isn’t he the softest, funniest —’
    â€˜Isn’t she the softest, funniest,’ Tom corrected her.
    â€˜I thought you said his — its — her name is Beelzebub.’
    â€˜Quite so. I’m not the first sage to observe that the devil is a female.’
    â€˜ Most humorous,’ Ann sniffed, rubbing her cheek against the puppy’s silk coat and making it whimper with pleasure. ‘Beelzebub! Why did you give the poor little thing a name like that ?’
    At which Tom Archer whispered an explanation in her ear that turned it lobster-shell red.
    â€˜So some of those “gentlemen” are hopelessly loyal to Emily York?’ Ellery mused aloud. ‘Do anything for her? Anything at all?’
    â€˜That’s what Miss Sullivan said.’
    â€˜And would it be out of order to hypothesize that some of the aforesaid gentlemen might be equally loyal to Miss Sullivan?’
    The Inspector regarded his son with shock and, very nearly distaste. ‘If you’re hinting that Miss Sullivan is capable of hiring some soup moocher to pull a murder in order to increase Emily York’s share in the estate, Ellery, you have an evil mind. Why, that woman could no more do such a thing than — than I could!’
    â€˜Don’t jump salty, Dad,’ Ellery grinned. ‘What’s with this old lady? You sound as if you’ve fallen in love.’
    â€˜I’ve talked to her,’ his father mumbled. ‘You haven’t.
    â€˜Exactly. Therefore my judgment remains unimpaired. And besides,’ Ellery said, holding up a peace-making palm at the glint in his father’s eyes, ‘the kill might have been made without her knowing a thing about it. Just for the sake of argument: Let’s suppose somebody’s planning big things for that village of theirs. Let’s say further that the ladies know nothing about it — and so that we won’t be detoured, let’s not speculate just now about who’s sending the cards. Now then: What do we have?’
    â€œI don’t know what we have,’ said the Inspector irritably, ‘but I damn well know what we don’t have. We don’t have an earthly reason — assuming all this is being done to make that dream