Эллери Куин - The Devil To Pay

The lawyer covered a courtroom cough. “Too, too bad... I drove up to the entrance at a few minutes past six. Walewski opened the gate. I told him I had an appointment with Mr. Spaeth—”

“Did you have?”

“My dear Inspector! Well, Walewski telephoned the house from his booth—”

“Hearsay. Walewski, what did you do?”

The old man trembled. “I don’t know nothing. I didn’t do nothing. I didn’t see nothing.”

“Did you or didn’t you ’phone the Spaeth house?”

“Yes, sir! I did. But there wasn’t no answer. Not a bit of an answer.”

“May I ask a stupid question?” said Ellery. “Where were the servants? In all this magnificence,” he said mildly, “I assume servants.”

“Please,” said the Inspector. “Well, if you must know, Spaeth fired ’em last week, the whole bunch. Now—”

“Really? That’s strange. Now why should he have done that?”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” The Inspector looked annoyed. “He received several threatening letters right after Ohippi went busted and complained to the police and a district dick spotted the writer in thirty minutes — Spaeth’s own chauffeur, a Filipino named Quital. Spaeth was so scared he fired everybody working here and he hasn’t had a servant since.”

“The wages of high finance,” murmured Ellery. “And where is Mr. Quital?”

“In jail,” grinned Glücke, “where he’s been for a week. So what happened when you got no answer, Walewski?”

“I told Mr. Ruhig. I said Mr. Spaeth must be home, I said,” mumbled the old man. “He ain’t been out for a week, I said. So I let Mr. Ruhig through.”

“Spaeth called me this morning,” said Ruhig helpfully. “Told me to come. So when he didn’t answer I knew something must be wrong. Therefore I insisted Walewski accompany me. Which the good man did. And we found— Well, I notified the police at once, as you know.”

“He was settin’ down on the floor,” said Walewski, wiping the spittle from his blue lips with the back of his right hand, “he was settin’ and he looked so awful surprised for a minute I thought—”

“By the way, Mr. Ruhig,” said Ellery with an apologetic glance at Glücke, “what was the nature of your appointment today?”

“Another change of will,” said Ruhig precisely.

“Another?” Glücke glared from Ellery to Ruhig.

“Why, yes. Last Monday — yes, exactly a week ago — Mr. Spaeth had me come over with two of my assistants and I wrote out a new will, which he signed in the presence of my assistants. This will,” Ruhig coughed again, “disinherited the son, Mr. Walter Spaeth.”

“Oh, is that so?” said the Inspector alertly. “Did you know your old man cut you off, Spaeth?”

“We quarreled,” said Walter in a weary voice, “about his abandonment of the Ohippi plants. He telephoned Ruhig while I was still here.”

“Who benefited by the will he made a week ago?”

“Mr. Spaeth’s protégée, Miss Moon. He left her his entire estate.”

“Then what about this will business today?”

Ruhig breathed on his shiny little fingernails. “I can’t say. All I know is that he wanted to change the will again. But by the time I got here,” he shrugged, “it was too late.”

“Then Spaeth’s estate is legally Winni’s,” frowned the Inspector. “Nice for her that he was bumped before he could change his mind again... Well Jerry?”

“This man Frank, the day gateman. He’s here.”

“Bring him in.”

The one-armed gateman shuffled in, his narrow features twitching nervously. “I’m Atherton F-Frank. I don’t know a single blessed thing—”

“What time did you go off duty?” demanded the Inspector.

“Six o’clock he went,” put in Walewski eagerly. “That’s when I come on. So you see I couldn’t know nothing—”

“Six o’clock,” mumbled Frank. He kept looking at his misshapen shoes.

Walter was sitting forward now, staring at the one-armed man. Val noticed that Walter’s hands were twitching, too, almost in rhythm with Frank’s features.

Afraid, thought Val bitterly. So you’re a coward, for all your brave talk. You’re afraid Frank saw you. He must have seen you. Unless you went over the wall. Went over the wall... Val closed her eyes. Now why should Walter have gone over the wall?

“Listen, Frank,” said Glücke genially. “You’re an important figure in this case. You know that, don’t you?”

“Me?” said Frank, raising his eyes.

“Sure! There is only one entrance to Sans Souci , and you were on guard there all day. You were, weren’t you?”

“Oh, sure I was. Certainly I was!”

“So you know every one who went in and came out this afternoon. Why, Frank old man, you might be able to clear this case up right now.”

“Yeah?” said Frank.

“Think, now. Who went in and out?”

Frank drew his sparse brows together. “Well, let’s see now. Let’s see. Not Mr. Spaeth. I mean — him.” He jerked a dirty thumb toward the ell where the coroner’s physician was working. “I didn’t see him all day... You mean after the auction?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes.”

“After the auction... Well, the crowd petered out. So did the cops. A little while later Miss Moon drove out. She came back about four o’clock. Shopping, I guess; I saw packages. Her aunt, Mrs. Moon, is away in Palm Springs. Did she come back yet?”

“No,” said Glücke, as man to man.

Frank scraped his lean chin. “Let’s see. I guess that’s all... No, it ain’t!” Then he stopped and looked very frightened. “I mean, I guess—”

“You mean you guess what, Frank?” asked Glücke gently.

Frank darted a hungry glance at the door. Walter sat up straighter. Val held her breath. Yes? Yes?

“Well,” said Frank.

“Some one else came this afternoon!” snapped the Inspector, mask off. “Who was it?” Frank backed away. “Do you want to be held as a material witness?” thundered the Inspector.

“N-no, sir,” chattered Frank. “It was him. Around half-past five. Half-past five.”

“Who?”

Frank pointed a knobby forefinger at Rhys Jardin.

“No!” cried Val, springing out of the chair.

“Why, the man’s simply mad,” said Rhys in an astonished voice.

“Hold your horses,” said Glücke. “You’ll get your chance to talk. Are you sure it was Mr. Jardin, Frank?”

The gateman twisted a button on his coat. “I... I was sitting in the booth reading the paper... yes, I was reading the paper. I heard footsteps on the driveway, so I jumped up and ran out and there was Mr. Jardin walking up the drive toward the Spaeth house—”

“Hold it, hold it,” said Glücke. “Did you leave the gate unlocked?”

“No, sir, I did not. But Mr. Jardin had a key to the gate — everybody in San Susie’s got one — so that’s how he must have got in.”

“Was there a car outside?”

“I didn’t see no car.”

“This is a joke,” began Rhys, very pale. The Inspector stared at him, and he stopped.

“By the way,” drawled Ellery, “if you came out of your warren, Frank, and saw a man walking away from you, how can you be so sure it was Mr. Jardin?”

“It was Mr. Jardin, all right,” said Frank stubbornly.

Glücke looked irritated. “Can’t you give me a better identification? Didn’t you see his face at all?”

“I won’t stand here—” cried Val.

“You’ll stand here and like it. Well, Frank?”

“I didn’t see his face,” mumbled Frank, “but I knew it was him, anyway. From his coat. From his camel’s-hair coat. I knew him.”

Walter very slowly slumped back against his chair. Val flashed a glance of pure hatred at him and Rhys sat down, jaws working, in the chair she had vacated.