Charlotte Armstrong - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 17, No. 90, May 1951

“There you are, waiter,” she said, nodding and smiling at him. “Now I needn’t ring, need I? Could you get me a nice cup of tea, just a cup?”

“Cup of tea? Certainly, m’,” said the waiter, and without another glance at his wife, he walked out. When he came back five minutes later, his wife had disappeared.

“You know, waiter,” the old lady remarked as he set the tea before her, “some people say tea at night keeps you awake, but I don’t find it so. I don’t like to go to bed without my cup of tea.”

“All a matter of habit, m’.”

“I expect it is,” said the old lady.

“I’m sure it is. I like a cup myself.”

The old lady, who was a friendly soul, nodded brightly at this, and kept him there a minute or two longer while she told him how long she had been having her late cup and what various relations thought about it. And when she had done, she gave him a sixpenny tip, which was very hand-some for a single cup of tea. The waiter could not help reflecting how surprised she would have been if she had learned that the woman who had just gone out was the waiter’s wife and a good many other things besides.

Twenty minutes later the bell in the lounge rang again, and the waiter found that the old lady, now sitting in a dream over her empty cup, had company in the shape of a bulky, florid-faced fellow who was smoking a cigar. He looked at the waiter and gave him a tiny knowing grin. The waiter stared for a moment, then promptly relapsed into blank waiterdom.

“Yes, sir?”

“Oh — yes — er — let me see, waiter. I think I’ll have a double Scotch and a small soda. I’m not staying here, but that’s all right, isn’t it? I want to see somebody here.” He put a curious emphasis into this last.

“That’s all right,” the waiter muttered, removing the old lady’s cup.

“What time is it?” the old lady inquired.

Before the waiter could reply, the newcomer, with a flourish, had taken out a heavy gold watch, and replied: “Five minutes to ten.”

“Thank you. Time for me to go to bed, then,” she told them both; and the waiter held, the door open for her and then retired to get the whisky.

“Two and tenpence,” said the waiter, the moment after he had placed the drink in front of the visitor.

The bulky, florid-faced man grinned, and then, with a careful and rather praiseworthy attempt at complete nonchalance, remarked: “You’re not going to stand me this one, Joe?”

“I’m not.”

The other handed over three shillings. “Keep the change,” he cried, giving a creditable burlesque of a generous visitor.

The waiter said nothing, but merely swept the coins into his pocket and began moving away.

“Wait a minute, Joe, wait a minute. It’s no use pretending not to know me.”

“Oh, I knew you all right, Bobby,” said the waiter, as he stopped and turned. “But what of it?”

“I told you just now I came in here to see somebody. Well, you’re him.”

“How did you know I was here?” the waiter asked.

“I ran into Maggie not half a mile away,” the bulky man explained, with a flowing gesture, “and she told me she’d just been having a little talk with you in here. Full of it, she was. You ought to have heard her, Joe. It’s a long time since I met Maggie — I mean before tonight — but she’s not changed a bit. Still got a lively tongue in her head. Cor! — you, ought to have heard her going on about you, Joe. I tell you what it is — you can’t handle women, Joe. You never could.”

“You didn’t come here to tell, me that, did you, Bobby?” the waiter inquired. “Because if you did, you’re wasting your valuable time.” And he made another move as if to depart.

“Just a minute, Joe. Don’t be so impatient. I came in here to have a look at you, Joe, in your nice waiter’s clothes, and I also came in here just to have a look around. Nice quiet hotel, Joe, very nice quiet hotel this. Not the sort of place where anybody would expect any trouble. The police don’t worry you much here, Joe, do they? I shouldn’t think they would. Very nice and quiet — and gentlemanly.”

“Cut it short, Dobby.”

Dobby grinned again. He appeared to be enjoying himself. “Well, joe, if you want it short, you shall have it short. Now I’ve got a little scheme. I won’t tell you what it is now, but you know my little schemes — you’ve met ’em before, haven’t you, Joe? And for this little scheme I want a nice quiet place to stay in for a week or two, just like this, and so I thought I’d stay here and then you could help me, couldn’t you, Joe?”

“Nothing doing,” the waiter announced.

“Nowdon’t be hasty, Joe. You don’t know what it is you’ve got to do.”

“And I don’t want to know. But understand this, Dobby — you don’t let me in for it and you don’t try anything on here.”

“Oh, I don’t, eh?” The bulky man seemed to be amused.

The waiter was not amused. He was very grim, and there was a curious strained look about his eyes. He came a little nearer now, and though, when he spoke, he was quieter than he had been before, there was a very unpleasant quality in his voice. “You know very well I’m running straight now, Dobby. You’re not going to try anything on here, and that’s flat.”

“Going back on your old friends, eh, Joe? Do you think that’s wise?”

“I’ve told you,” said the waiter. “I’m running straight now.”

“A nice respectable waiter in a nice respectable hotel. That’s the line, is it, Joe?”

Dobby looked at his cigar, put it down, then finished his whisky in one big gulp. He looked up. “It’s no good coming the high and mighty with me, Joe, and you know it. How did you get this job? Never mind. I don’t want to know. But I’ll bet they don’t know here that you’re an old lag.”

The waiter tried to moisten his lips. “They don’t,” he admitted.

“Of course they don’t. Nice respectable, gentlemanly hotel like this. What! — have an old lag as a waiter? Dear me, couldn’t be done! A convicted—”

“All right, all right,” the waiter interrupted hastily.

“A word from me to the management and where’s the nice job then?”

“You wouldn’t do that, Dobby,” the waiter cried.

“I don’t want to do it, Joe, but if an old friend won’t do a little job for me, quite a safe job, safe as houses, well, then, I might have to make trouble. And that would be very, very easy.”

“Why can’t you leave me alone? I’m not interfering with you. I’ve finished with your lot. I’ve had my medicine — and that’s a damn’ sight more than you’ve had yet, Dobby, don’t forget that.”

“Ah, you see, Joe, I’m not only lucky but I’m clever,” Mr. Dobby protested airily. “I don’t look it, I know. But I’m clever.”

“I’m going straight. I earn what I make, and I’m interfering with nobody. For God’s sake, leave me alone, Dobby.”

“Can’t do that, Joe. Sorry, but it can’t be done. You can’t go back on your old friends like that. If you help me with this little idea of mine, there’s no trouble coming to you, nothing but a little present from an old friend. But if you’re going to be awkward, Joe, you’re not going to get away with it. We can’t have you pretending to be respectable any longer. You’re losing this job, see? And you won’t get another in a hurry, will you? And then there’s this daughter of yours who’s just had the baby.”

“You’ve got hold of that, too, have you?” said the waiter, bitterly. “Not much you miss, is there, Dobby?”

“Got it all from Maggie tonight. I tell you, Joe, when women are angry, they spill it all. You don’t know how to manage ’em, Joe, and that’s where you get yourself into trouble. Now what’s it going to be? Are you going to be awkward or am I?”