Stewart Brown - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 140, No. 6. Whole No. 856, December 2012

“Is it possible your husband owed money to the mob? Did you ever hear him talk about guys with names like ‘Fat Paulie,’ ‘Machine Gun Kelly,’ ‘Toucan Sam,’ or ‘Tony the Tiger’?”

“No, never.”

“What about street gangs? Is there a chance he was a pimp or a drug kingpin?”

“WHAT?!?”

“Never mind. Let’s move on. Keep looking through his desk. Is there anything else unusual?”

[long pause]

“I found an envelope full of receipts. Let’s see, flowers... motel rooms... jewelry? He never gave me these things... Oh my gosh!”

“What? What did you find?”

“I found a receipt for a watch. It had a custom engraving on it. It says: ‘For my dearest Aggie.’ Oh Marley, how could you do this to me?”

“I knew it! Three murdered husbands this week and every one was carrying on a torrid extramarital affair.”

[sob]

“Do you know who this Aggie is that your husband was having sex with?”

“She’s... she’s...”

[sob sob]

“She’s Agatha Hardy. Marley’s best friend is Joe and Agatha is his wife.”

“Is she the vengeful type? Would she kill Marlowe if she couldn’t have him to herself?”

“How should I know? Oh my gosh! I just realized something...”

“What? What is it?”

“Joe was Marley’s climbing parter! Maybe he found out about the affair and killed Marley.”

“Oh! Aaaahhh... aaaargh!”

[incoherent screams of pain]

[sound of phone crashing from desk]

“Hello? Hamish? Are you there?”

“I am here. Sorry about that. I spilled coffee on myself. Now... where were we?”

“Ah yes, you were telling me that Joe was climbing with Marlowe when he died. Using my superior powers of deduction, I deduce that Joe found out about the affair and, in a fit of rage, cut the rope while Marlowe dangled precariously from a cliff, sending him tumbling down the mountain, where he was probably consumed by crocodiles or whatever type of wildlife resides in your region of America.”

“Um... okay. I think you might be on to something.”

“Well, I think we can wrap up this case...”

[dog barking]

“Scooby, shut up. Hamish, can you hold on for a sec? Someone is coming up to my door.”

“Oh my gosh! I can’t tell who it is, but it looks like they’re trying to unlock the door... he’s... whoever it is, is coming into the house! I can hear him downstairs. He’s yelling, ‘I did it. I got away with it.’ It must be Joe. He killed my Marley and now he’s coming after me! What do I do? Help me, Hamish! What should I do?”

“Um... You know, madam, I mean Miss Nancy, I really am not sure. Let me put you on hold and get a senior detective.”

“No! Don’t...”

[hold music]

“Hey Joe, where you goin’ with that gun in your hand?”

“Hello, Miss Nancy? Thank you for holding. I have Missmarple on the line with us. He is one of our most experienced detectives.”

“Hello, madam. How are you?”

“I can hear Joe downstairs. He’s looking for me. He’s going to kill me.”

“Thank you, madam. There is no need to panic. Do you have a gun readily available?”

“No. We don’t have any guns.”

“Thank you, madam. What about a large stabbing instrument? Like a machete or an axe?”

“Not in my husband’s study. Oh my gosh! He’s calling my name. He is definitely looking for me.”

“Do you have a cricket wicket?”

“A what?”

“I think Missmarple means a baseball bat.”

“Oh yes, thank you, Hamish. I forgot we are talking to America. Do you have a baseball bat?”

“No. I don’t have anything like that... Oh my gosh! I think he’s coming up the stairs.”

“Look around the room. Is there a large blunt object you could strike him with?”

“Marley’s trophy. He won ‘Salesman of the Year’ last year.”

“Well, a trophy is not going to be much of a match if he has a gun, but I guess it will have to do. Stand behind the door. When he comes into the room, come out and hit him from behind. We’re on speakerphone so we’ll be right here if you need anything.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“So, Hamish, have you had lunch yet?”

“No, I’ve been stuck on this call all afternoon. It’s been a crazy day.”

“I know what you mean. By the way, madam, be sure to hit him as hard as you can. If you don’t knock him out on the first hit, he’ll probably shoot you or something.”

“After we have finished this investigation, do you want to go get some lunch?”

“Yes, that is a very good idea. I’m starving...”

[thunk]

“I did it! I did it! I got him.”

“Miss Nancy? Is that you, or is that Joe?”

“It’s me, Miss Nancy. I did exactly what you said. He came into the room yelling for me and I stepped out behind him and really let him have it.”

“Is he knocked out?”

“Yes! He isn’t moving... in fact... he’s not breathing.”

“Is it Joe? Were you right?”

“Let me see... Oh my gosh! It’s... it’s... Marley!”

“Wait a minute, Hamish, I thought you said Marley was the deceased husband?”

“He is now.”

“You know, Missmarple, I told her at the beginning that Marlowe probably faked his own death, but she didn’t believe me.”

“Don’t get me started on that one. Our customers call us up, wanting us to solve their crimes, but then they don’t even listen to us.”

“I... I can’t believe it. I killed my poor Marley. Oh no. He had two train tickets. He wasn’t going to kill me, he was going to take me away somewhere.”

“Just as you suspected: an insurance scam. Good job, Hamish.”

“You know, Missmarple, Miss Nancy really is better off now.”

“What do you mean, Hamish?”

“She will get a small fortune from the insurance company, and her cheating husband is dead. Since the authorities think he died in the mountains, all she has to do is dispose of the body. She is much better off now than she was before.”

“That is a good point, Hamish.”

“Thank you, Missmarple. Miss Nancy? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I... I’m still here.”

“Thank you for calling the Spade Detective Agency. Please stay on the line while I transfer you to our Customer Satisfaction group, where you will be asked to take a short survey.”

[hold music]

Copyright © 2012 by Stewart Brown