Эллери Куин - The Devil To Pay

“But you just said you — you got there after six!”

“So I did.”

“Then you were late ? You didn’t get there between five and five-thirty at all?”

Mr. Ruhig smiled. “But I did get there between five and five-thirty... How did you know?” he asked suddenly.

Val gripped her alligator bag, trying to keep calm. As for Mr. Hilary King, he saw the point. Mr. Ruhig was an old hand at questions and answers. If he was being questioned about the exact time of his arrival, then he knew Val had reason to ask the question. If she had reason, it might be based on evidence. If there was evidence, truth was safer than fiction. Mr. King’s admiration for Mr. Ruhig waxed.

“Let’s get this straight,” said Val. “You got to Sans Souci when?”

“At five-fifteen, to be exact,” replied Mr. Ruhig.

“Then why didn’t you tell Inspector Glücke—”

“He didn’t ask me when the appointment was for. And I merely said I drove up a bit after six, which is true. Except that it was the second time I drove up, not the first.”

“A minor technicality,” commented Mr. King.

“The legal training,” said Mr. Ruhig with a modest downward glance. “Answer the question as asked, and don’t volunteer information.”

“Then you were in the house during the crime,” cried Val, “and Atherton Frank lied about no one coming in but—”

“My dear child, you’ll learn as you grow older never to jump at conclusions. I drove up the first time at a quarter after five, but that doesn’t mean I entered the grounds.”

“Oh,” said Val.

“Ah,” said Mr. King.

“Frank wasn’t around,” continued the lawyer conversationally. “You might question the one-armed gentleman, because he testified he was on duty all afternoon. But when I got there at five-fifteen the gate was locked and he wasn’t in his booth, so I drove off and returned a bit after six, at which time Walewski was on duty. That’s all.”

“Is it?” murmured Val.

“As a matter of fact,” said Ruhig, “I’ve been debating with myself whether to tell the Inspector about Frank’s absence or not. It puts me in rather a spot. I forgot to mention it Monday night, and when I recalled it later it occurred to me that Glücke might become — uh — troublesome over my lapse of memory. However, I think now I’d better tell him.”

You didn’t forget anything, Mr. Ruhig, thought Mr. King. And you don’t want Inspector Glücke to know even now. You’re bluffing.

“No,” said Val quickly. “Please don’t. Just keep it to yourself for a while, Mr. Ruhig.”

“But it’s a criminal offense!” protested Mr. Ruhig.

“I know, but it may come in handy in the defense if — when pop goes to trial. Don’t you see? They couldn’t be so sure, then, that he was the only one—”

“You’d make a persuasive advocate,” beamed Mr. Ruhig. “I’ll think it over... No, I shan’t, either! Friendship is friendship. I won’t talk until you give the word.”

Well done, friend.

“Thank you,” said Val, rising. “Uh... Hilary, let’s go.”

“Why not?” said Ellery-Hilary, and he uncoiled his legs from under Mr. Ruhig’s uncomfortable chair.

He had scarcely got out of it when Ruhig’s office-door flew open and Walter Spaeth strode in, hatless and panting, as if he had run all the way from Spring Street.

“What’s this,” he demanded of Ruhig, “about you and Winni?”

“Ah, Walter!”

Walter’s right fist smashed down on Ruhig’s desk. “So that’s the game,” he said in a hard voice. “All right, Ruhig, I’ll get into it, too.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the lawyer brusquely.

“You aren’t satisfied with the hundreds of thousands you collected from my father in fees in that crooked Ohippi operation. Now that he’s dead you want the big money — the millions. And you’re marrying that damned empty-headed fool of a woman to get them!”

“Get out,” said Ruhig. “Get out of here.”

“I’ve been thinking it over for some time. Ruhig, there’s something rotten about that will!”

“You will find,” said Mr. Ruhig with a dangerous softness, “that your father had full testamentary capacity.”

“I’ll spike your little scheme. I’m getting a lawyer to file a protest. I’ll break that will, Ruhig. You’ll never live to see it probated.”

“Your father,” snapped Ruhig like a tormented little badger, “was entirely able to comprehend the nature and extent of his property, his relationship to the natural objects of his bounty, and the scope and effects of the contents of his will. Will you get out, or do I have to have my clerks put you out?”

Walter actually smiled. “So it’s a fight, is it? By God, Ruhig, I’ve been itching for one.”

And he strode out with no more than a passing glance at Val and Mr. King — an absent glance that sharpened momentarily and then grew absent again.

“Goodbye,” said Val in a small voice.

They left Mr. Ruhig sitting still behind his desk, no longer smiling. In fact, Mr. Ruhig was immersed in thought — half-drowned in it, Mr. King would have said.

“There’s that man again,” said Ellery, as they walked down the street.

“Where?”

“Somewhere behind us. I’m psychic about these things. Where’s your car parked?”

“N-near Hill.”

“Head for it and I’ll drop behind. Let’s see if we can’t bag this squirrel.”

Val stepped off the curb and nervously crossed the street. She was just mounting the sidewalk on the other side when she heard an outcry behind her. She whirled about.

Mr. Hilary King was struggling with a medium-sized, broad-shouldered man whose bellow could be heard as far as City Hall.

“Stop!” cried Val, racing back across the street. She yanked Ellery’s arm, which was engaged in a futile-seeming maneuver that looked like ju-jutsu, and was, and then shook the other man, who had just caught Ellery flush on the nose with his freckled fist.

“ Pink! ” she screamed. “Mr. King, stop! It’s Pink!”

“I’m ready to call it quits,” panted Mr. King, feeling his nose with his free sleeve, “if this wildcat is.”

“Who is this guy?” stormed Pink. “I spotted him for a ringer right away! Did he force you, Val? I’ll tear his gizzard out!”

“Don’t be an ass,” said Val irritably. “Come on, they’ll have the riot squad out in a minute.” And indeed Old Faithful, the black sedan, had stopped and its two occupants were hastily getting out.

The three of them looked at the sedan, the gaping crowd about them, the approaching detectives, and ran. They ran all the way to Hill Street, pursued, grabbed Val’s car, and shot away into the late afternoon traffic.

“There’s one consolation,” said Mr. King, still caressing his nose. “We’ve lost our escort.”

Pink slumped back in the rear, trying to compress himself into the smallest possible space.

“You’re an idiot,” snapped Val, driving furiously. “Was it you who was following us? Pink, if you don’t stop wet-nursing me—”

“How should I know?” whined Pink. “This guy looked like a phony to me. And Rhys told me to take care of you.”

“That’s no excuse. This is Mr. King, a... an old school chum. He’s helping me on my job.”

“Job!” Pink goggled.

Val told him about the events of the day, concluding with the Ruhig incident.

“Say!” exclaimed Pink. “I know why Ruhig admitted being at San Susie Monday at five-fifteen.”

“You do?”

“I’ve been doin’ a little snooping myself,” said Pink proudly. “I got to thinking about this Ruhig menace, and I says maybe he’s hiding something, so I goes up to his office this morning and I get palsy with the switchboard gal and pretty soon she spills. Ruhig and two of his gorillas left the office Monday a little past four-thirty in Ruhig’s car!”