Isaac Asimov - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Vol. 73, No. 3. Whole No. 424, March 1979

She glanced at Nick, perhaps wondering if he was from the police, and began. “Your wife arrived just before three, as you were leaving for your meeting upstairs. She said she’d wait in your office. I was in the outer office with two other girls, stuffing envelopes for a mailing to exhibitors. We all remember your leaving the outer office and walking to the elevator just as the clock chimed three. About five minutes later we heard a gasp or cry from in here, and we all ran in. Mrs. Poland was on the floor, apparently in great pain. I phoned a doctor on one of the lower floors and then I phoned you in the upstairs conference room. But she was dead by the time the doctor and you got here.”

“The poison was in her sherry?” Nick asked.

Carol nodded. “She must have put it there herself. I’d just washed all the glasses and filled the decanter from a new bottle. There was no poison anywhere but in her glass.”

“And in Mrs. Poland,” Nick added.

“Well, yes.”

“Satisfied?” Poland asked Nick.

“You might have left a glass of sherry already poured for her.”

“But I didn’t. Carol and the other girls were in and out of the office, putting together their mailing. They verified that the glasses were all empty when I left.”

“The decanter could have been poisoned, and a second unpoisoned one substituted later.”

“Again — no. Neither Carol nor I nor anyone else was alone in that office after the poisoning. And the police took the decanter with them at once. There was no second decanter, or hidden bottle.”

“Can I go now?” Carol asked, looking uncomfortable. “I’ve been over this so many times before.”

Felix Poland nodded. When they were alone once more he asked, “Satisfied, Velvet?”

“I suppose I have to be.”

“Rena was upset because I wanted a divorce. I’ve never denied that. She came here as I was leaving for a meeting, went into my private office, poured herself some sherry, and dosed it with a fast-acting poison. I suppose the idea of killing herself in my office appealed to her.”

The buzzer sounded and Carol’s voice was heard again. “The gentlemen from Thames Television are here for their eleven o’clock meeting.”

“I’ll be with them in a moment,” Poland said. He stood up. “You can go out this way, Velvet. You do understand, don’t you? Our business association is ended. I suggest you take the next plane home.”

As the wall clock chimed the hour Nick found himself shuffled quickly out a rear door. He stood for a moment in the corridor, then sighed and headed for the elevator. It was time for a return visit to Hope Trennis’ townhouse.

Though it was nearly noon when he arrived, the actress received him in her dressing gown. The servants from the previous evening were still busy cleaning up after the party, polishing silverware and vacuuming the carpets. “An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Velvet,” Hope Trennis said. “Please sit down. Eric has been in touch with me, of course. You were very unlucky to be caught.”

Nick smiled. “I wasn’t caught, only detected. There’s a difference. By this time tomorrow I’ll be on a plane back to the States.”

Her expression hardened at his words. “I thought Eric made your position quite clear. Have you persuaded Felix Poland to abandon his threatened lawsuit?”

“No.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be charged with burglary, Mr. Velvet.”

“Of what — a day-old newspaper?”

“Eric found you with your hand in my safe.”

Nick nodded. “Because your film ran four minutes shorter on British television. A few minutes can make a big difference.”

“It can for you, Mr. Velvet. I have many friends at Scotland Yard.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I want you to go to them.”

“With the charges against you?”

“No — with new evidence against Felix Poland in the death of his wife. Your perfect defense is to go on the offensive. Prove that he poisoned his wife and he won’t be in the mood to sue you for anything.”

“And how do I go about doing that?”

“As I pointed out, a few minutes can make a big difference — the few minutes less your film ran on British television, or the few minutes’ difference between two clocks. I haven’t checked the actual testimony covering the time of Rena Poland’s poisoning, but if Scotland Yard looks at it again, they’ll find an important discrepancy.

“According to his secretary, Felix Poland left his office as the clock was chiming three. And Eric Noble told me Poland walked into the meeting on the floor above as the clock was chiming three. He could hardly have gone up on the elevator and walked into the other office in a matter of two or three seconds. No, one of those clocks had to be a couple of minutes wrong. And it was most likely Poland’s, since Noble remembers checking his watch against the conference-room clock.

“But if Poland’s office clock was just a couple of minutes fast it demolishes his alibi. He could have left his office, headed toward the elevator, and then turned and reentered his private office through the rear door down the hall. Using the pretext that he’d forgotten something, he could have said a few words to his wife, poured her a glass of sherry, and gone back out the same rear door. Then up to the next floor in the elevator. Total elapsed time, two or three minutes.”

“It could have been that way,” Hope said, her eyes alight.

“The testimony of the chiming clocks will only prove that his office one was fast, but that may be enough. Most electric clocks, especially office ones, have a high degree of accuracy. If it was fast, it was probably set ahead deliberately. If Poland set it ahead, that’s evidence that he was planning an alibi.”

“Thank you for this, Mr. Velvet. You have solved the mystery. Can I pay you for it?”

He shook his head. “I’m no detective. I’m a thief. And Felix Poland has already paid me. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

He went back then to Gloria, because he knew after all these years that the time had come to tell her the truth. He sat with her over drinks, explaining what he did, telling her about the minimum fee he charged and the unique things he stole. And even after 13 years of living together he wasn’t certain what her reaction would be.

She sat for a long time in silence, staring at her drink, and finally he asked her, “What do you think?”

She lifted her head and smiled. “I think you should be charging at least twenty-five thousand.”

© 1979 by Janwillem van de Wetering.

© 1979 by Brian Garfield.

© 1979 by Patricia L. Schulze.

© 1979 by Peter Lovesey

© 1979 by Peter Lovesey.

© 1979 by Francis M. Nevins, Jr.

© 1979 by Lawrence Block.

© 1979 by Horace Bull.

© 1979 by William Bankier.

© 1979 by Isaac Asimov.

© 1979 by Otto Penzler.

© 1979 by Chris Steinbrunner.

© 1979 by Jon L. Breen.

© 1979 by Russell Martin.

© 1979 by Russell Martin.

© 1979 by Gina Haldane.