Ellery Queen - Cat of Many Tails

Ellery followed his father into the study and the Inspector shut the door. “You’re not considering it.”

“Yes.”

“Ellery, for God’s sake. Send them home!”

Ellery lit his pipe.

“Are you out of your mind? A couple of hopped-up kids. And they’re both connected with the case!”

Ellery puffed.

“Look here, son. If it’s help you want, you’ve got the entire Department on call. We’ve got a flock of ex-GIs who’d give you everything this youngster could and a lot more — they’re trained men. If you want a pretty girl, there’s at least three I can think of right now in the Policewomen’s Bureau who’d give the Phillips number a run for her money. And they’re trained, too.”

“But they’re not,” said Ellery thoughtfully, “connected with the case.”

The Inspector blinked. Ellery grinned and went back to the living room.

“Very unorthodox,” he said. “I’m inclined to go for it.”

“Oh, Mr. Queen.”

“What did I tell you, Celeste?”

The Inspector snarled from the doorway, “Ellery, I’ve got to phone my office,” and he slammed the door.

“But it might be dangerous.”

“I know some judo,” said Jimmy helpfully.

“It’s not funny, McKell, Maybe very dangerous.”

“Listen, son.” Jimmy was growling. “The little folks we kids played tag with in New Guinea didn’t wrap a cord around your neck. They cut it. But you’ll notice mine is still in one piece. Of course, Celeste here — that’s different. Inside work, I’d say. Something exciting, useful, and safe.”

“How about Celeste’s speaking for herself, Jimmy?”

“Go on, Miss Alden.”

“I’m scared,” said Celeste.

“Sure you are! That’s what I—”

“I was scared when I walked in and I’ll be scared when I walk out. But being scared won’t stop me from doing anything I can to help catch Simone’s murderer.”

“Well, now,” began Jimmy.

“No,” she said. Distinctly.

Jimmy reddened. He mumbled, “My mistake,” and dug another refugee cigaret from his pocket.

“And we’ve got to have something else understood,” said Ellery, as if nothing had happened. “This is no fraternity of rollicking companions, like the Three Musketeers. I’m Big Chief Plotto and I take nobody into my confidence. I give unexplained orders. I expect them to be carried out without protest, without questions, in confidence... and without consultation even between yourselves.”

They looked up at that.

“Perhaps I should have made that part of it clear first. You’re not coworkers in this little QBI. Nothing as cosy as that. You’re accountable always and solely to me, what I give you to do is your personal assignment not to be communicated to each other or anyone else; and for the support of this declaration I expect you to pledge your lives, your fortunes, and your sacred honor if any. If you feel you can’t join me under these conditions, say so now and we’ll write this session off as a pleasantly wasted hour.”

They were silent.

“Celeste?”

She clutched her bag. “I said I’d do anything. I accept.”

But Ellery persisted. “You won’t question your instructions?”

“No.”

“No matter what they happen to be?”

“No.”

“No matter how unpleasant or incomprehensible?”

“No,” said Celeste.

“And you agree not to disclose your instructions to anyone?”

“I agree, Mr. Queen.”

“Even to Jimmy?”

“To anybody.”

“Jimmy?”

“You’re a tougher boss than the human oak knot who holds down the city desk at the Extra.”

“Amusing,” smiled Ellery, “but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m in.”

“On those precise terms?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ellery looked at them for a moment.

“Wait here.”

He went quickly into his, study, shutting the door.

As Ellery began to write on a tablet, his father came in from his bedroom. The old man stood at the desk watching, his lips pushed out.

“Anything new downtown, Dad?” murmured Ellery, writing.

“Just a call from the Commissioner asking—”

“Asking what?”

“Just asking.”

Ellery tore the sheet off the pad, put it into a plain envelope, sealed the envelope, and wrote on its face, “J.”

He began to write on another sheet.

“Nothing at all, hm?”

“Oh, it’s not all Cat,” said the Inspector, watching. “Murder on West 75th and Amsterdam. Double header. Betrayed wife trails hubby to apartment and lets both sinners have it. With a pearl-handled job, 22.”

“Anybody I know?” Ellery cheerfully tore the second sheet off the pad.

“Dead woman was a nightclub dancer, Oriental numbers a specialty. Dead man was a wealthy lobbyist. Wife’s a society woman prominent in church affairs.”

“Sex, politics, society, and religion,” said Ellery as he sealed the second envelope. “What more could anyone ask?” He wrote on the envelope, “C.”

“It’ll take the heat off for a few days, anyway.” As Ellery got up his father demanded, “What’s that you just wrote?”

“Instructions to my 87th Street Irregulars.”

“You’re really going through with this Hollywood dam-foolery?”

Ellery went back to the living room.

The Inspector paused in the doorway again, bitterly.

To Celeste Ellery handed the sealed envelope marked “C,” to Jimmy the sealed envelope marked “J.”

“No, don’t open them now. Read, destroy, and report back to me here when you’re ready.”

Celeste was a little pale as she tucked her envelope into her bag. Jimmy crammed his into his outside pocket, but he kept his hand there.

“Going my way, Celeste?”

“No,” said Ellery. “Leave separately. You first, Jimmy.

Jimmy jammed his hat on and loped out.

To Celeste the room seemed empty.

“When do I go, Mr. Queen?”

“I’ll tell you.”

Ellery went to one of the windows. Celeste settled back again, opened her bag, took out a compact. The envelope she did not touch. After a while she replaced the compact and shut her bag. She sat looking at the dark fireplace. Inspector Queen, in the study doorway, said nothing at all.

“All right, Celeste.”

About five minutes had passed. Celeste left without a word.

“Now,” exploded the Inspector, “will you tell me what you wrote in those damned notes?”

“Sure.” Ellery was watching the street. “As soon as she comes out of the house.”

They waited.

“She stopped to read the note,” said the Inspector.

“And there she goes.” Ellery strolled over to the armchair. “Why, Dad,” he said, “in Celeste’s note I instructed her to find out all she can about Jimmy McKell. In Jimmy’s note I instructed him to find out all he can about Celeste Phillips.”

Ellery relit his pipe, puffing placidly.

“You conniver,” breathed his father. “The one thing I didn’t think of, and the only thing that makes sense.”

“If Heaven drops a date, the wise man opens his mouth. Chinese proverb.”

The Inspector launched himself from the jamb, steaming around the room like Scuffy the Tugboat.

“Beautiful,” he chortled. “They’ll have to head for each other like two—” He stopped.

“Cats?” Ellery took the pipe from his mouth. “That’s just it, Dad. I don’t know. This could be brutal. But we can’t take chances. We simply mustn’t.”

“Oh, it’s ridiculous,” snapped the old man. “A couple of romantic kids.”

“I thought I detected the inspectorial nose twitch once or twice during Celeste’s true confession.”

“Well, in this business you suspect everybody at least once. But when you stop to think about it, you—”