Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 104, No. 4 & 5. Whole No. 633 & 634, October 1994

From where they were parked Irina could see the rolling greens of the golf course and just beyond, across the highway, the equally lush expanse of Lakeview Cemetery.

“Guy, don’t talk nonsense,” she said, wondering why they must all behave so tiresomely when it was over.

“I love you,” he said.

“Darling, we had an affair, not a romance.”

“I’m only a dumb jock, tell me the difference.”

“Romance is what we’re all looking for, but we settle for affairs — after a certain age, when we realize the search is hopeless.” This pricked his anger. “God, you make me sound like something you picked up at the market. Something fresh and appealing to the eye that didn’t quite suit your taste when you got it home.”

“So some of us have fickle appetites, sorry.” She didn’t wish to be cruel, she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but she’d had no idea he was going to prove so difficult. For two weeks she’d been trying gracefully to end the affair and his puppy-dog persistence had begun first to bore and then to alarm her. Calling her at home when she’d made it clear that was a no-no, and if not exactly stalking her, seeming always to be just around the comer from wherever she happened to be. Of course, she couldn’t avoid him at the club, but she resented having to give up its social activities for fear he would make a scene in front of her husband.

“You made a mistake if you thought you could treat me like all the others,” he said truculently. “Take my word for it, you can be hurt, too.”

“Is that a threat, Guy?”

“Take it any way you like. You’re not dumping me.”

“You’re young, Guy, but that’s no excuse to act like a child. Face it. It’s finished.”

“There’s only one way it’ll be finished. If one of us ends up over there.” He waved a hand toward the cemetery.

“That’s not funny. In fact, this whole thing ceased to be amusing when you began taking it seriously. You can drop me at the club. I’m going home.”

“Time to get hubby’s din-din, is it?”

“Oh, you do remember I have a husband.”

“I’m not the one who forgets it.”

He let her out of the car at the club’s backdoor, away from prying eyes. His hand closed around her wrist. “I meant what I said, Irina. Think about it.”

She jerked her hand loose. “Don’t ever call me again, Guy. Don’t ever speak to me.”

The detective’s name was Armand Daversa. He was young, heavy-browed, bull-shouldered, with searching green eyes.

Dr. Russell handed him a cup of coffee. “My wife just woke up. She’ll be down soon as she’s dressed. I gave her a mild sedative last night so she’s still a bit groggy. As I am, for that matter.”

“Understandable, sir. Before your wife joins us perhaps we might run over what you told me last night. By the way, have you had a chance to determine if anything’s missing?”

“Nothing, so far as I can tell.”

“Odd.”

“Decidedly.” Darwin Russell’s keenly intelligent features were set in an expression of anxious bewilderment. “As nothing was stolen and my wife was not sexually assaulted, it poses a quandary as to the intruder’s motive. Maybe what he did to Irina was out of spite because he found nothing worth stealing. We don’t keep valuables in the house.”

“Not likely he’d have done what he did even before ransacking the house. And binding your wife and leaving her in the car with the engine running in a closed garage would be carrying spite a bit far.”

“Then how in God’s name do you explain such a gratuitous act of violence? Unless he was a maniac.”

“Maniacs aren’t usually so methodical. He could as easily have killed Mrs. Russell right here in the house. The only apparent reason for lugging her out to the car would have been to fake a suicide, which is ruled out by his having tied her to the wheel and gagged her.”

Russell refilled the detective’s coffee cup. “I’m not a religious man, but I can’t help feeling some force of providence was responsible for my coming home from the seminar to pick up that file when I did. If I hadn’t... dear God, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Daversa rose as Irina appeared at the door. Russell hastened to take her hand and lead her to the sofa. She was very pale, which in no way detracted from her beauty. Her cloud of dark chestnut hair was gathered loosely in a bun on her neck, her gold-flecked eyes deeply shadowed.

“You’re sure you’re up to this, darling?” Russell inquired anxiously, still holding her hand.

“Quite sure. Coffee, please, darling.” But then she seemed reluctant to release his hand.

Daversa promised to make his visit as brief as possible. “We got most of what we need last night. I’m wondering if after a night’s rest you might have remembered anything in clearer detail?”

Irina’s hand trembled as she lifted the delicate china cup to her lips. “I’m sorry. It happened so fast. I sat down to watch television here on the sofa shortly after Darwin left for the seminar. It was a rather noisy sitcom. I didn’t hear anyone break in the backdoor. He was just suddenly there, behind me, grabbing me. All I saw before I fainted was that frightful stocking mask over his face. He didn’t say a word. When I came to I was in my car, unable to move. The engine was running. I knew I was going to die. There wasn’t a prayer Darwin would be home until late... much too late.”

She put the cup down shakily and reached for her husband’s hand. Tears came into her eyes. “When I heard a sound and turned my head to the window it was like — like seeing God’s face.” A trace of color stained her cheeks, as if she feared the detective might find her words foolishly extravagant.

“Afraid I can’t live up to that image,” Darwin chaffed her, “but I trust I won’t be rebuked quite so often in future for my absentmindedness. If I hadn’t forgotten that file...” He too looked on the point of breaking down.

A confusion of emotions had kept Irina awake a good part of the night, despite the sedative. She knew it was her duty to tell the police about Guy Subjack, blaming herself for not taking his threatening remarks seriously, but if she were to do that, Darwin would learn of her affair with Guy and that was the last thing she wanted to happen; following the exposure of an earlier affair, she had made a solemn vow to Darwin that it would never happen again.

Daversa was asking her if the keys were already in her car; she admitted she was usually careless about leaving them in the ignition when the garage was shut.

“We’ve no enemies,” Darwin insisted. “It’s utterly senseless, like something one sees on TV. Tell me frankly, Lieutenant, what are your chances of catching this guy?”

Daversa spread his hands. “Ask me again in a few days. I might be in a better position to give you an answer.”

Later that afternoon, on the flagged terrace overlooking the garden, Irina lapsed into a long abstracted silence. Beside her, Darwin was trying to read, but as usual those particular sounds of summer to which his ears were so sensitively attuned kept distracting his attention. He found himself watching a dragonfly patrolling the edge of the lily pond, its five eyes scouting for food to satisfy its insatiable appetite; if food were not available it would be quite capable of devouring part of its own body. A keen amateur etymologist, Darwin was knowledgeable about insect lore.

Irina’s own two eyes betrayed nothing but a hunger for something she was unable to define until presently, with a heavy sigh, she spoke her husband’s name. “I’m so frightened.”

“Don’t be. It’s over now. You must try to put it out of your mind.”