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

That was part of it, she thought, but not the whole truth. She stood up. “I’d better get back to work.” At the door she paused and looked at him. “Why are you concentrating on the college? There are a lot of town women who might have become involved with him.”

He reached for the last sandwich. “I have people asking questions all over town, believe me. But, Blair, this started and ended right here on this campus.”

“Thanks, Haliday,” she said. “That’s really reassuring.” She could hear his chuckle as she left.

It was after four-thirty when she and Winona Kelly finished the files in the archives. “You can go on ahead if you want,” Ellen said when she finished checking the last batch of copied files. “I’ll just put this stuff back first.”

“I’ll wait,” Winona said.

Ellen shrugged and began to refile the records. “Did he tell you not to leave me here?”

“Not just like that. He was sore because a reporter or someone got to you yesterday.”

Ellen bit her lip and continued to replace the records. That bastard, she thought savagely. He was keeping an eye on her. But why? There wasn’t anything to connect her to Philip Seymour. Someone surely had told him about the age parameters Philip had set; he must know she had been well out of them. Or maybe he believed Philip had made an exception in her case.

Today Winona held an umbrella over both of them as they walked back to the administration building. “Can’t wait to get to my motel and get a shower,” Winona said. “You wouldn’t believe files could be so dirty, would you?” She chattered and popped her gum, never expecting a response apparently. “I grew up over in Bend,” she said. “Just can’t get used to this rain. Everything I have on feels clammy.”

Ellen nodded. Shower, change of clothes, something hot to eat and drink... Her needs seemed very simple at the moment. Then she began to think about the list of things Philip had left in his apartment. Clothes, outdoor wear... She was frowning slightly when they entered the administration building, where many people were milling about, students, work-study students, office workers. She saw Rita coming from the records room and went to her.

“Will you give this to Dr. Melton?” she asked, handing her the list of files they had copied that day. “I have to see the lieutenant. She may be gone before I’m through upstairs.” It was close to five; she hoped Hilde would go on home at five.

Rita said sure, no problem, took the list and headed back toward her own office. Ellen went up the stairs with Winona. When they passed the door of Conference Room A she saw with surprise that the furniture had been rearranged in there, and several groups of people sat at tables separated from one another. She recognized John Wooster from maintenance at one of the tables, and two cafeteria workers at others. He really was having everyone questioned, she thought in wonder.

When they reached Conference Room D the door was open and Haliday was reading a typed sheet of paper.

“Finished?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” Ellen said. “Just one question. On that list of stuff in Philip Seymour’s apartment, there wasn’t a tuxedo mentioned, a powder-blue tux. Would anyone have just included it among the other clothes?”

“Philip watchers saw him in a light blue tux? The night of the big party?”

She nodded. “That’s what I heard.” Patty had seen him in it, had raved that he looked like a movie star.

He glanced at Winona. “You can take off. See you in the morning. Come on in, Blair. Close the door. If Kelly stays, she goes on overtime,” he said. “You’re on straight salary, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But that’s all I wanted to bring up. I didn’t know if anyone had mentioned it.”

She remained at the door; he began to rummage through papers. He motioned for her to join him. “Have a look,” he said as he ran his finger down a sheet of paper he had extracted from a pile.

“I’d like to go home,” she said.

He paid no attention, merely beckoned again, and angrily she closed the door and joined him at the table.

“Would you say anything on that list looks like formal evening wear? Two sports jackets, gray suit, three pairs of jeans... Where do you suppose he changed after the dance?”

“I don’t know. In his van maybe.”

“That would be strange,” he murmured. “Five-minute drive to a closet full of clothes. Why change in the van?”

“Maybe he was more than five minutes away. Maybe he never went home after the dance.”

Haliday straightened up and slowly he nodded. “I think you’ve got it, Blair.”

The door opened and Hilde Melton came in. She stopped when she saw Ellen, and stood for a moment studying her. Then she continued into the room. “Lieutenant Haliday, I meant to speak to you alone. I thought Ellen had left, but perhaps it’s better this way. I want Ellen to return to her regular duties tomorrow. You have enough of your own people to conduct any further searches of our files. There are people in the current-records room to give you any assistance you may need.”

Good, Ellen thought, no microfiches.

“I don’t know,” Haliday said. “She’s really been helpful.”

“Lieutenant, look at her. She’s a nervous wreck over all this nonsense. Janice Ayers has mentioned that this is too much for Ellen, doing police work on such a ghastly case. People who have known her all her life have gone out of their way to comment. That awful woman reporter who seems to think she has privileges just because she was a student here, even she has commented. It was a mistake to offer you Ellen’s help. I wish to rectify my mistake.”

Ellen grasped the back of a chair. Beverly! Bev had threatened her by saying how desperate they were, and now she was adding weight to the threat through Hilde Melton.

Hilde came to Ellen and put her arm around her shoulders. “I’m very sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have let you get this involved.” Then she said fiercely, “Ellen will return to my office tomorrow. She works for me and the college, after all, not for your office.” She tightened her arm for a moment and then released Ellen and patted her shoulder. “You go on home. It’s well past quitting time, and it’s been a long day.”

Ellen nodded. All she wanted to do was go home and try to think this through. They were desperate, afraid she would tell the police, threatening... Were the threats real? What happened that night back at the fire? She looked at Haliday, who was watching her. “I’m pretty tired,” she said.

“Come to my office when you arrive in the morning,” Hilde said. “All that work you’ve had to put off is still waiting.”

Haliday was stuffing papers into his briefcase. “Ms. Blair,” he said, “can you give me a lift to town?”

Hilde glared at him. Ellen nodded. They had to fight, she understood; Hilde had worked too hard to surrender her authority without a struggle, and Haliday acted like a man who was used to getting his way. Let them, she thought, she just wanted out.

No one spoke again until they got downstairs and said good night at Hilde’s office door. Ellen and Haliday left the building, dashed through the rain to her car, and got in. She began to drive.

“She doesn’t have any kids, does she?” he asked after a moment.

“Who? Dr. Melton? No.”

“Widow now for what, four years? You know the papers are writing more about the famous Walter Melton than about her? Died in Sumatra, didn’t he?”

“You know more about it than I do,” she said tightly. “I wasn’t here at that time.”

“Sumatra,” he said. “Had an accident, got bad care, infection set in, and he came home and died in a Portland hospital. Never even made it back to Crystal Falls. Tough. So all she has now is the college. See, Blair, I’m wondering why she’s come on so maternal about you. You sick or something?”