Тимоти Уилльямз - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 126, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 769 & 770, September/October 2005

As he was leaving the park at about a quarter to two, a white convertible pulled up to the curb. He recognized Wayne Henneset behind the wheel, with his bag of golf clubs in the backseat. “Ellery, just the man I’m looking for!”

He put up his hand in protest. “No golf for me today.”

“No, no. I’ve already played. I want you to come home with me and talk to Marge. She’s worried about her sister and that carnival fellow.”

“I don’t know that I could help with that.”

“Just talk to her. It’ll set her mind at ease.”

“All right,” he agreed, slipping into the passenger seat next to Henneset. “How’d your game go today?”

“Broke eighty. First time all summer.”

It was only a five-minute ride to the house, out on Washington Street near the station, and they found Marge in the kitchen, frosting a cake. “It’s not for you,” she told her husband. “They’re having an auction of baked goods at the carnival tonight.”

“Guess I’ll have to bid on it,” he told her with a grin.

“It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Ellery,” she said. “What brings you here today?”

“Wayne said you were concerned about your sister. I can tell you her ex-husband was at the carnival last night and told Nation to stay away from her.”

“Really? I’m surprised he—”

“Our cell phone’s vibrating,” Henneset said, reaching into his pocket. He flipped it open, pressed a button, said hello, and listened. “Hold on,” he said into the phone. “It’s your sister,” he told Marge. “She sounds upset.”

He held it close to her ear and Ellery could also hear the woman’s voice on the other end. “What is this? What are you doing with that?” Behind her voice was the sound of her mantel clock striking two. Then she screamed and they heard a thump.

“Janice!” her sister yelled into the phone. “Are you all right?” But the line went dead.

“My God!” Henneset said. “We’ve got to get over there.”

“What we’ve got to do is call Chief Newby,” Ellery decided instantly. “Dial nine-one-one.”

Henneset was fast with the phone, dialing Emergency and giving Janice Collins’s street address. Then they hurried out to his car. Marge sat in front with her husband while Ellery slipped into the backseat with the golf clubs, admiring the spotless irons and the sock-covered woods. Wayne Henneset drove fast, but as they pulled into Janice’s block they saw that the chief’s car was already in the driveway. Anselm Newby was at the door with a deputy, trying to get in.

“No one answers the door,” he told them.

“I’ve got a key,” Marge Henneset said, edging him aside as she fitted it into the lock.

They found her sister’s body on the living room floor, bleeding from a terrible blow to her left temple. There was no doubt that Janice Collins had been murdered.

While Marge sobbed uncontrollably, Wayne Henneset filled in Chief Newby on Sam Nation’s presence at the carnival. Newby nodded and called in the information to his office, telling them to send the coroner and the undertaker. His deputy was already taking photos of the crime scene.

“No weapon,” Newby noted after looking around.

“Nation had a hammer last night at the carnival,” Ellery said.

“We’ll pull him in for questioning. That’s all we can do. Maybe one of the neighbors saw a car or something. And we’ll check for prints, of course.”

Ellery sat with Marge Henneset in the kitchen, trying to comfort her, while her husband badgered the police chief. Two more officers arrived on the scene to help question neighbors, but no one had noticed any visitor at the Collins house. Ellery wandered out the back door of the house, surveying the yard and its access to the next street. He felt sure that was how the killer had entered unseen.

Back inside, Marge recovered enough to tell her husband, “Someone has to call Wagner Collins. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” he said. They were dusting the phone for prints, so he used his cell phone to break the news to the ex-husband. As he hung up, the mantel clock was chiming and Ellery was surprised to glance at his watch and see that it was almost three already.

“You’d better get down to the carnival,” Henneset advised the chief. “Wagner Collins is convinced Nation killed her and he sounds like he’s out for blood.”

“I’ll ride along with you,” Ellery decided.

“I believe my officers can handle the situation, Mr. Queen,” the chief responded. His opinion of Ellery hadn’t improved with the passing years.

“I’ll drive you,” Henneset said. “Come on, Marge. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

“She was my sister, Wayne! I want to—”

“It’s in the hands of the police now. They’ll find whoever did it.”

“Do you think it was Sam Nation?”

“We’ll see what he has to say. Come on, Ellery. Climb in back.”

Once more there’d been a murder in Wrightsville. It had happened before when he came to this town, a gentle place that seemed so far removed from violence. He remembered the first time, the death of Rosemary Haight, and Nora Wright’s funeral at the Twin Hill cemetery. [See Calamity Town by Ellery Queen (1942).] He wondered if he’d be there again for the funeral of Janice Collins.

It was only a few minutes’ drive to the center of town, and Ellery spotted Polly Watkins hurrying from the Record office to head across the Square to the carnival. “Let me off here!” he told Henneset. “Polly looks as if she’s after a story.”

He left the car and caught up with her in front of the post office. She was startled by his sudden appearance. “Ellery! Where’d you come from?”

“I was with the Hennesets. Where are you headed?”

“I heard a police call about a killing at the Collins address. Then I saw the chief’s car just arrive at the carnival. What happened?”

“Someone killed Janice Collins. Her ex-husband thinks it was Sam Nation. Apparently he’s not content to leave it in Chief Newby’s hands.”

They hurried along the carnival midway, searching for Nation or

Collins or Chief Newby, but seeing none of them at first. A few children ran past, holding cotton candy and heading for the rides. “There!” Polly said, pointing suddenly. They had a glimpse of Wagner Collins, disappearing around the back of the merry-go-round, heading for the area where the carnival crew’s trailers were parked.

Ellery couldn’t run as fast as in his younger days, but he still covered the ground quickly, keeping up with Polly Watkins. They were in time to see Collins, holding something in his hand, yank open the door of one trailer. “He’s got a gun!” Polly told him. He couldn’t be sure, but he feared she was right.

“Wagner!” he shouted. “Stop!”

The man ignored him, leaving the first trailer and moving on to the second one. Ellery could see the gun clearly now. As they ran toward him, Wagner Collins turned and warned them back. “Stay away! I’ll handle this!”

Then they saw Sam Nation. He had emerged shirtless from one of the other trailers, perhaps attracted by the voices. Collins turned toward him and raised the pistol. Ellery threw himself forward, colliding with the banker just as the gun went off. They both toppled to the ground. The gunshot had brought people running from all directions. A bit dazed by his fall, Ellery looked up to see Chief Newby, with Marge and Wayne Henneset close behind him. The gun had come free from Wagner Collins’s hand, and Newby kicked it out of reach before the banker could retrieve it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the chief asked Collins. “This is a police matter, not something for private justice.”