Эллери Куин - Halfway House

“Ah, there, Queen,” said Jones. “Sleuthing, eh? By George, I envy you chaps. Lead a dashed exciting life. Any luck?”

“None visible,” smiled Ellery. “Good evening, Miss Gimball. That man’s here again.”

“Good evening,” said Andrea. She had gone strangely pale at sight of him. Her black low-cut evening gown with its daring lines might have caused another young man to stare with admiration, but Ellery was what he was, and he chose to study her eyes instead. They were wide with fear. “You — you wanted to speak to me?”

“On my way up,” remarked Ellery casually, “I noticed a cream-colored car parked at the curb. Sixteen-cylinder Cadillac...”

“Oh,” said Jones, “that must be my car.”

Ellery caught the instant wave of sheer horror that swept across Andrea’s face. She cried involuntarily, “Burke!” and then bit her lip and groped for the back of a chair.

“What the devil’s up, Andy?” demanded Jones, his brows drawing together.

“Yours, Jones?” murmured Ellery. “Strange. Bill Angell saw a cream-colored sixteen-cylinder Cadillac roadster leave the driveway in front of the hideaway in which Joseph Gimball was murdered on the very night of the crime. Very strange indeed. Nearly ran Bill down.”

Jones’s walnut skin went gray. “My — car?” he said at last, moistening his lips. His empty eyes went to Andrea and jerked back. “I say, Queen, that’s not possible. I attended that charity jamboree at the Waldorf Saturday night with the Gimball party, and my car was parked on the Avenue all evening. Must be another car.”

“Oh, no doubt. And, of course, Miss Gimball can vouch for that.”

The girl’s lips barely moved. “Yes.”

“Oh,” said Ellery, “you do vouch for it, Miss Gimball?”

Her hands fluttered a little. “Yes,” she whispered. Jones was trying not to look at her. He seemed drawn in upon himself, his big shoulders a little hunched, as if he faced a struggle but did not quite know what course of action to take.

“In that case,” said Ellery gravely, “you leave me no choice, Miss Gimball, but to ask to see your engagement ring.”

Jones stiffened. His eyes darted from Ellery to Andrea’s left hand, and remained fixed there with horror. “Engagement ring?” he muttered. “What earthly reason could—”

“I imagine,” said Ellery, “Miss Gimball can answer that.”

From somewhere above came the sound of voices. Jones took a short step toward Andrea. “Well?” he said harshly. “Why don’t you show it to him?”

Her eyes closed. “Burke...”

“I said,” his voice became thick, “why don’t you show it to him? Andrea, where is it? Why is he asking? You never told me—”

A door banged on the balcony above; Mrs. Gimball and Grosvenor Finch appeared. “Andrea!” cried Mrs. Gimball. “What’s the matter?”

Andrea’s hands went to her face; the fourth finger of the left was still bare. And she began to sob.

Mrs. Gimball swooped down the stairs. “Stop that silly crying!” she said sharply. “Mr. Queen, I insist on an explanation.”

“I merely asked,” said Ellery patiently, “your daughter to show me her engagement ring, Mrs. Gimball.”

“Andrea,” rasped Jones, “if you’ve got me into a mess...”

“Andrea,” said Mrs. Gimball. “What—?” Her face was livid and old. Finch ran down the stairs; he was obviously distressed.

“Oh,” sobbed Andrea, “is everyone against me? Can’t you see I–I—?”

Mrs. Gimball said coldly, “If my daughter won’t answer your silly questions, Mr. Queen, she won’t. I don’t understand your motive, but I see now that you’re protecting that precious sister of that nauseating young man from Philadelphia. You’re not working with us. You know she murdered him!”

Ellery sighed and went to the door. “Oh, yes,” he said, disappointing the piscatorial flunky beside him. “Finch.”

“This is childish,” said Finch hastily. “Why not talk this over—”

“Words are women, deeds are men. I believe I shall revert to my natural masculinity.”

“I don’t—”

“Well, under the circumstances,” said Ellèry in a regretful tone, “it’s manifestly impossible for me to go to work on this case under the ægis of the National Life Insurance Company. No co-operation, you understand. Such a perfectly simple question! So I must refuse the assignment.”

“If the fee—” began the tall man helplessly.

“A fig for the fee.”

“Ellery,” said a low voice. Ellery turned. Bill Angell was standing in the doorway. The fish-faced man looked almost angry. Then he almost shrugged. Finally, with his nose in the air, he stepped aside and Bill came in.

“Well, Bill,” said Ellery slowly, his eyes narrowing. “So you’ve come at last. I thought you would.”

Bill looked unhappy, but his handsome chin was hard. “I’m sorry, El. I’ll explain some other time. Meanwhile,” he said, raising his voice and staring calmly about, “I should like to speak to Miss Gimball — alone.”

Andrea was on her feet, her hand on her throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have come.”

“Andrea—” began Mrs. Gimball shrilly.

Jones said in a curt voice: “I’ve stood for about as much mystery as I intend to. Andrea, you’ve played me off long enough. I want an immediate explanation or, damn it all, it’s all off between us! Who is this fellow? Where’s your ring? What the devil did you do with my car Saturday night? If you’re mixed up in this murder...” For a moment Andrea’s eyes glittered. Then they fell, and a little color came into her cheeks.

Bill said blankly, “ Your car?”

“Now you see,” murmured Ellery, “why candor is the better part of romance, Bill. I could have told you last night that Andrea Gimball doesn’t own or drive a cream-colored Cadillac roadster. Most elementary; a mere judicious inquiry in the right place. May I suggest the door be closed and that we all sit down and discuss this like sensible people?”

Finch muttered something to the flunky, who looked grieved, shut the door, and vanished. Mrs. Gimball sat down angrily, with pursed lips, as if she wanted to say something nasty but did not quite know what. Jones glowered at Andrea, and Andrea kept looking at the floor. She was no longer pale. As for Bill, he suddenly became conscious of his feet. He shuffled them about and looked miserable. “Just what,” asked Ellery quietly, “were you intending to discuss with Miss Gimball, Bill?”

Bill shook his head. “That’s up to Miss Gimball. I have nothing to say.” Andrea gave him a shy, queerly pained little glance.

“It seems to me,” observed Ellery after a moment of strained silence, “that I shall have to do the talking, after all. I should have preferred listening. You’ve both acted very oddly — you, Miss Gimball, and you, Bill. Childishly, when it comes to that.” Bill flushed. “Shall I tell you what happened? On Saturday night, while I was examining the rug in the shack, your eye happened to catch sight of something imbedded in the nap which glittered. You put your foot over it. When you thought no one was looking, you pretended to tie your shoelace and picked it up. I was watching, and I saw it. It was a large cut diamond of at least six carats.”

Bill stirred, and Andrea uttered a little gasp. Jones’s skin was gray again, his cheekbones tight with wrath. “I thought—” began Bill in a mutter.

“You thought you were unobserved. But, you see, Bill,” said Ellery gently, “it’s part of my training to see everything, and part of my creed not to permit friendship to stand in the way of the truth. You didn’t know whose diamond it was, but you were afraid to say anything about it to De Jong because you thought it might in some mysterious way involve Lucy. Then Miss Gimball came, and you saw a ring on her finger with the stone gone. It couldn’t have been coincidence. You realized she must have been in that shack. But, you see, Bill, I noticed it, too.”