Dale Andrews - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 134 & 135, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 817 & 818, September/October 2009

When he finished the call, Doyle went outside and strolled across the west grounds of his estate to the pool to look for Vera.

A mile down the road from the Doyle estate, Sully pulled over and stopped to allow Doreen Doyle to move from the rear seat of the Mercedes-Benz McLaren to the front seat with him.

“What was the big powwow with Daddy all about?” she asked, lighting a forbidden cigarette.

“He wanted to make sure I wasn’t making any moves on you,” Sully said. They leaned together and kissed briefly on the lips.

“If he had any idea the moves you’ve already made,” she declared lightly, squeezing the inside of his thigh, “he’d kill us both.”

“Me, anyway,” Sully agreed. “I’m sure he’d find a way to forgive his little princess. Is everything all right between him and Vera?”

“Far as I know. Why?”

“He asked me a lot of questions today about where I drove her, who she talked to on her cell phone, whether she ever met any men for lunch.”

“Really! You don’t think he thinks she’s cheating on him, do you?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I wonder. You know Sol Silverstein was up to see him this morning.”

“Yeah, I saw his car.”

“They had a kind of intense talk out on the east patio while Daddy was having breakfast. I watched them from my bedroom window. Sol tossed papers of some kind onto the table. They both seemed very serious. Daddy got up and paced. And he drummed his fingers on the table, you know how he does sometimes. Could he be thinking about divorcing Vera?”

“I doubt it. Not for cheating, anyway. He knows if she was cheating on him, I’d be suspicious. And he knows I’d tell him.”

“You would?”

“Sure. I work for him, Dorry.”

“That doesn’t keep you from sleeping with his daughter.”

“That’s different. I couldn’t help myself. You seduced me.”

“ I seduced you!” Doreen reached to his thigh again, this time pinching it smartly. “You practically raped me the first time we did it after the party that night when you put poor Freddie Carter in the hospital. God, I will never forget that night!”

“Me neither. I think we probably raped each other.”

Now she rubbed his thigh a little higher. “Step on it, baby. Let’s pick up those damned dresses and get out to the room.”

Sully kept a small kitchenette that he rented by the month at a long-term executive motel in a nearby suburb. Feeling warm from Doreen’s touch, he eased down on the accelerator.

Back at the mansion, Vera Doyle was sitting up on the chaise lounge where her husband had found her, staring at him in uncertainty.

“This was all Sol’s idea?” she asked.

“Yeah. He said it was the only thing to do. To be on the safe side, you know.”

Doyle had drawn up a deck chair beside Vera’s chaise lounge, and was drinking another root beer.

“What do you think of his theory about Quinn and the others?”

“I don’t know. I’ve known the four of them since we were all kids together on the Lower West Side. We were all in the West End Dukes together. We were like brothers.”

“People change,” Vera said pragmatically. “Then too, Sol is only guessing. He doesn’t know what the Justice Department is planning.”

“Well, Sol is usually right about those things.”

Vera nodded. “I can’t argue that.” She took the root beer bottle from him and had a sip herself. “It’s the money thing that really bothers me, Gus. That’s a lot of money to be moving at one time. And why me? Can’t somebody else do it?”

“Like who?” Doyle shrugged. “Those four guys are the only ones in the whole of my outfit that I’ve ever trusted. If I only knew which one was about to rat me out, maybe I could have one of the others move the bearer bonds. But that’s the snag: I don’t know.”

“You’ve no idea at all who it might be? Not even a suspicion?”

“None. Ed Quinn and Tom Foley and I grew up together down around Halsted and Van Buren. Mike Dwyer and Dan Connor I met in the reform school out in St. Charles. Charleytown, we called the place.” He grunted quietly. “I can’t imagine any of them betraying me. If only one of them limped.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s an old Irish prayer. My granddad Padric taught it to me when I was a boy. Goes like this:

“If only that were true,” Vera said.

Doyle took her hand. “Look, sweetheart, the money isn’t going to be that big a deal. After Sol has it all converted into bearer bonds, they’ll be packed neatly in a suitcase. You’ll fly to the Cayman Islands on a chartered plane. I’ll have Sully go with you—”

“Sully? Why Sully? He’s only a driver.”

“And a bodyguard. He’s dependable and very loyal to you. Naturally he won’t know about the bearer bonds; it’ll just be another suitcase. There are several Swiss bank branches in the Caymans; Sol will tell you which one to use. Sully will accompany you to the bank, where a large safe-deposit drawer will already be arranged. Have him wait outside the safe-deposit vault; he won’t ask any questions. You’ll put the bonds in the drawer, get the key, and that will be that. Sully will fly back the next day with the key and leave you to have a nice carefree vacation. I’ll set you up with a suite at the Casuarina; that’s the place you like, remember? As soon as I can, I’ll join you.”

Doyle lifted her hand and sucked on her forefinger. “Say you’ll do this for me, Vera.”

She took her finger out of his mouth and kissed him. “You know I will, Gus. I’d do anything for you, love.”

It took four days to accumulate all the cash into a central downtown bank, and another day for it to be tallied by auditors and the total converted to bearer bonds. The bonds were then moved by a private security firm to Doyle’s mansion, where they were put into his underground vault.

In the interim, Doyle took Sully down to a line of expensive shops on Michigan Avenue and bought him a wardrobe of fashionable vacation wear: sport coats, slacks, shirts — everything he needed to look good with the always elegantly attired Vera.

When they got back from their shopping trip, Doyle himself driving his prized Rolls-Royce Phantom, Doreen came out to meet them in the porte-cochere. As Doyle got out and Sully came around to put the car away, Doreen said, “Sully, did you happen to see my yellow-tinted sunglasses in the Mercedes? I can’t find them anywhere.”

“No, but I’ll look for them, Miss Doreen,” Sully said.

“I’ll ride down to the garage with you in case they’re there.” She kissed her father on the cheek. “Vera wants to talk to you, Daddy. Something about her trip, I think.”

With Doreen in the front seat beside him, Sully guided the big luxury car around a drive that circled the grounds back to the garage building.

“What’s all this about you going somewhere with Vera?” Doreen asked, a little crossly.

“Beats me,” Sully said. “I was hoping you might know. We’re going to the Caymans.”

“For how long?”

“Not long for me. I’m coming back the next day. Vera’s staying on.”

“Something very weird is going on. Sol has been in and out of the house for two days now. And Daddy didn’t hold his usual Tuesday morning meeting with Mr. Quinn and Mr. Foley and the others.”

“I noticed that too. Very unusual.”