Эллери Куин - Blow Hot, Blow Cold

“It is far and away the most essential part of the whole business,” Jack said enthusiastically. “Sometimes, in fact, the golf can be dispensed with entirely.”

“What I would like to know,” David demanded, “is why you had to make so much . Were you planning an orgy or something?”

“So much what, darling?” Nancy said.

“You know what! Gin-and-tonic, that’s what!”

“Oh, it doesn’t spoil, dear. It keeps perfectly in the refrigerator.”

“It keeps better in the bottle!”

“But I was going to share it with Lila.”

“A generous gesture,” Jack Richmond said. “You couldn’t have done anything to please Lila more. Lila is a great gin-and-tonic gal. In fact she’s a gin gal, and to hell with the tonic.”

“Like you and golf,” Nancy said.

“Exactly,” Jack said happily.

“Why didn’t you?” David said.

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Share it with Lila.”

“She wasn’t home, that’s why, and to the best of my knowledge she still isn’t. Have you two seen her?”

“No, thank God,” Jack said.

“Which reminds me,” David said, “that you weren’t home, either, when we got here. Where have you been?”

“I went downtown to talk to Larry, but I couldn’t find him.”

“Is old Larry gone, too?” Jack asked.

“He flew the coop last night after the party.”

“No!”

“Yes,” Nancy said. “I saw him leaving.”

“He’d had another fight with Lila,” David said.

“Good for him,” Jack said. “I don’t blame him for cutting out. I only blame him for always coming back for more. If I were Larry I’d cut out for keeps.”

“It’s all very well to blame Lila,” Nancy said primly, “but I’m not so sure it’s all her fault. If you want my opinion, there’s been far too much criticism of her lately.”

Jack took a swig from his can, then shook it with an air of abstraction. He set the can precisely on the grass.

“Lila,” he said, “is an avaricious, vindictive, cold-blooded bitch .”

He said this in the kindliest professional tone of voice, a doctor making an unpleasant diagnosis. Still, it was a kind of shock. Of course, Jack had drunk quite a lot of beer.

“What I’d like to know,” David said to Nancy, “is why you went downtown looking for Larry.”

“Because I thought Larry ought to know Lila was gone.”

“Damn it, what’s so unusual about someone’s being away from home? I simply can’t understand why it concerned you. Are you sure that’s the only pitcher of gin-and-tonic you’ve made?”

“I don’t believe I would keep returning to that subject, David. I was concerned because their air-conditioner was off and the house was hot. It may seem reasonable to you for a person to turn the air-conditioner off when she’s going out for a while, but it doesn’t seem reasonable to me. I’ve got a feeling something is wrong.”

“Turned off the air-conditioner, eh?” Jack said wisely.

“Oh, a fuse blew,” David said.

“I don’t think so.”

“You say old Larry cut out last night?” Jack said. “I’ll bet Lila cut out right afterward. The whole thing’s blown to hell, if you ask me, and what we’d better do is let it strictly alone.”

“That’s right,” David said. “Strictly.”

“Do you think so?” Nancy said. “It may interest you boys to know that I disagree. I think we should go over and look through that house. As a matter of fact, that’s just what I’m going to do, whether you two come with me or not.”

“If you’ll excuse my saying so,” Jack said, “I think it would be a lot smarter if we mind our own business.”

“Second the motion,” David said. “How about another beer, Jack?”

“I—” began Jack.

Nancy said, “I’m going over right now. David, are you coming or not?” She rose grimly, waiting.

David sighed and rose, too. “Jack, help yourself to the beer. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I may as well come along with you.” Jack also rose, sighing. “As a good neighbor, I suppose I ought to get involved in any trouble you two get yourselves into.”

They crossed the hedge, and Nancy went ahead of Jack and David through the back door of the Connor house onto a small landing from which three steps led up to the kitchen and six steps went down to the basement. Nancy suggested that the two men check the fuses in the basement, and waited for them on the landing. When they came back David said, “Nothing wrong with the fuses. The unit has simply been turned off. Lila’s flown the nest, all right. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Nancy said, “ I am going upstairs and look in Lila’s room, and that’s all there is to it.”

She did so, followed uneasily by David and Jack, but that was not all there was to it — not by far. They went through broiling rooms to the stairs and upstairs into a hall that was sizzling and down the hall to the door of Lila’s bedroom. The door was shut, and Nancy pushed it open and immediately saw that her odd feeling of calamity had been right on the beam, as she had somehow known it would be.

Lila was in her room, dead. She was lying on the floor beside the bed, as if she had slipped off in dying, or had fallen against it. She was in a pale pink, translucent nightgown, and from its breast protruded the handle of what appeared to be a knife and which must, from its location, have pierced her heart. Around the handle, spread raggedly through the thin stuff of the nightgown, lay a dark seepage that looked stiff and dry.

Nancy felt as if someone had whopped her suddenly in the belly. She uttered a harsh wheezing cry that trailed off to a whimper and collapsed in her husband’s arms.

“My God,” said Dr. Jack Richmond huskily. “Old Larry’s finally gone and done it. By God, Lila finally drove him to it.”

When the doors to the offices adjoining the central room of the police station were open, as they currently were in the heat, any sound in the central room was shared by all, even by those who might have preferred to mind their own business.

When the telephone rang and the day desk man answered, Lieutenant Augustus Masters, hung up in his personal glorified sweat-bath, found himself automatically cocking an ear. Long experience in evaluating the nuances of the desk man’s voice told the lieutenant that something of unusual gravity was being reported — a deduction immediately verified when the desk man buzzed the chief and asked him to take the call. Whereupon Masters also heard the chief’s voice from the chief’s office on the other side of the central room. At that distance eavesdropping called for concentration, and with a little extra effort Masters could have made sense of it; but he did not bother.

He did not bother because he knew that if the matter was of any importance at all he would hear about it from the chief practically at once. The chief of police, being full of years and approaching honorable senility, was a cripple in any police matter requiring mental competence, and Masters was his favorite crutch.

Now and then Lieutenant Masters thought with wistfulness of succeeding to the office of chief himself. But it looked as if the old man, unrestricted by a compulsory retirement law, would live forever. Anyhow, Masters admitted to himself, he couldn’t possibly get the appointment. He had an unfortunate handicap — he looked like a clown. People always reacted to him as if he were about to take a pratfall or run face on into a custard pie.

Aware that the chief had stopped talking, Masters began to count to himself, spacing the numbers at one-second intervals. It used to take nine seconds, but the chief was slowing down with great rapidity; it took about fourteen these days. He had reached the count of twelve when the chief came in and sank into the other chair. Masters almost whistled. This must be a blockbuster.