Эллери Куин - The Devil To Pay

“Now. If we can somehow plant the proverbial bug in her ear that little Anatole was lying all the time, that such a will has never existed, that he just invented it to make her marry him and cut himself in on the fifty million, what will Winni do?”

“Demand to see the will!” cried Val.

“Right. And Ruhig will have to show it to her or risk losing everything. When he does — we pounce.”

“Smart,” said Walter curtly.

“And you’re the man for the job, Walter. She knows you well — I think she even likes you.”

“I guess so,” said Walter, flushing. Val examined her fingernails.

“Meanwhile, we’ve got to be in a position to follow developments. That calls for a little scientific eavesdropping.”

“And that’s where yours truly comes in,” said Fitz. “I’ve got connections, and I can get hold of a dictograph under cover. We plant it in the house there and lead the wires over to the empty Jardin house.”

“That’s a swell idea,” said Val, her eyes shining. “And then we keep listening on the other end—”

“Lemme in on this,” pleaded Pink. “Look, guys, I can do anything. I used to be an electrician once. I can get in and plant the machine and—”

They broke into an excited gabble. Ellery opened Fitz’s drawer and helped himself to the Scotch. Fitz got busy writing out a note to one of his “connections,” and Pink boasted that he was as good as any second-story man that ever lived, and Val coached Walter in exactly what he was to say to the unsuspecting Winni.

“Remember!”

“Don’t worry, honey.”

“Walter, get the hell out there and make a stab at your cartoon, will you? They’ll think it’s a Cabinet meeting in here.”

“Where you going?”

“To see pop.”

“Gimme that note!”

Finally Walter and Val and Pink were gone, each to a different place. Ellery hastily put the bottle down on Fitz’s desk and ran after Val.

“Peace,” said Fitz, reaching glassy-eyed for the Scotch. “It’s wonderful.”

Ellery caught up with Val on the street.

“Mind if I tag along?”

Val stopped abruptly on the busy corner of Spring and First. The crowd flowed around them. “I certainly do!”

“That’s not polite.”

“See here, Mr. King,” snapped Val. “We... I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and all that, but there are certain things... I mean, please don’t be annoying. I want to see my father.”

“My skin,” said Ellery, taking her arm, “is one part rhinoceros hide and two parts armored plate.”

Val helplessly permitted herself to be pulled along. If only she could get away from him! He was too quick, too smart. He knew too much already. The way he had analyzed the Ruhig situation. He might find out everything. He might find out that Walter...

There was no examination at the City Jail this morning. The shabby man was on hand, but he did not follow them. And the guard unlocked Rhys’s cell door and departed at once.

Rhys was calmly playing solitaire and smoking a cigar. His eyes narrowed when he saw the flamboyant figure with Valerie, but he kissed her and shook hands with Hilary “Scoop” King when Val introduced them and invited him to sit down on his pallet, brushing the cards aside.

“I don’t know what’s the matter,” he complained with a grin. “But my friends Glücke and Van Every are ignoring me completely. Do you suppose they’ve got cold feet?”

He patted the scattered cards into a neat stack.

“Absolutely frozen,” nodded Ellery. “Keep it up, Mr. Jardin. You’ve got ’em buffaloed. They’ve never had a prisoner who’s seemed so happy with his lot.”

“It’s the clean life I’ve led. Don’t worry, eat three squares a day, and get plenty of exercise. That’s the only thing I miss here. Otherwise, it’s ideal.”

“Oh, pop,” said Val.

“Why the long face, puss?”

Val said something perfunctory, and for a few minutes they chattered about inconsequentials. Ellery sucked on a cigaret. There was something in the aristocracy of blood after all. It made things difficult for a seeker after truth whose success must depend upon the agglomeration and synthesis of facts. He kept his eyes dull but aware.

And very soon after Val opened her bag and took out a handkerchief and put it to her nose in a dainty, unnecessary gesture and closed her bag and opened it again; and Ellery, squatting on the end of the pallet, knew that something was happening. He rose and turned his back.

Val kissed her father and got up, too, and Rhys offered his hand to Ellery with a charming smile, and in a moment they were out in the corridor, walking.

And Ellery thought it strange that cards which had been decorated with a schooner should, between their coming and their going, have magically changed into cards decorated with a Dutch windmill.

Now why should an otherwise honest young woman palm one deck of cards and leave another in its place?

“I wish,” said Val outside, “that you would make yourself extremely scarce, Mr. King.”

“Don’t be that way.”

“You’re getting me very angry. I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing by following me, but I assure you you’re wasting your time.”

“I like you,” sighed Ellery. “You send chills down my spine. Do you call that a waste of time?”

“That’s not very funny. If you don’t stop following me, I’ll get Fitz to. I warn you!”

She walked rapidly away, heading for the parking lot. Ellery watched her for a moment. Then he hurried around the corner.

When Val drove northwest on First Street, a small green coupé was behind her, one of that breed of rented cars which overrun Los Angeles like mice. And when Val parked outside the La Salle and walked into the lobby, there was Hilary “Scoop” King, his elbows on the desk, waiting for her.

Val said contemptuously: “You worm!” and made for the telephone booth in the lobby.

Mibs Austin stuck her head around the switchboard and called out. Val stopped. “Yes, Mibs?”

“Mr. Spaeth left a note for you.”

Val came back. The switchboard girl handed her a hotel envelope and she tore it open.

Mr. King heaved away from the desk and quickly went to the telephone booth.

“Fitzgerald... Fitz? King talking,” he said rapidly. “I haven’t time for explanations. Do me a favor.”

“For you, Master-Mind — anything!”

“In five minutes call up Val Jardin at the La Salle .”

“Why?”

“Shut up, will you? I’m in a hurry. Call her up and tell her to come down to the Independent office right away.”

“But what for?”

“How should I know? But make the excuse stand up. I don’t want her to get wise.”

“Trust me, sweetheart.”

Ellery hung up and stepped out of the booth. Val was gone.

He went to the desk and said to the blonde girl: “Where did Miss Jardin go?”

“Who wants to know?” said Mibs with a hostile look.

“Give, sister. We work on the same rag.”

“Oh. She went upstairs to her apartment.”

“I’ll show you my etchings some time.”

He left the lobby ostentatiously and strolled alongside the building until he came to a tradesman’s entrance. Then, with a swift look around, he ducked down the flight of stone steps, ran through an alley, and emerged into the back yard of the hotel. It took him a moment to locate the windows of the Jardin apartment. He jumped for the iron ladder of the fire-escape and clambered noiselessly to the third floor.

The Venetian blind in one of the living-room windows was raised an inch from the sill and he cautiously knelt and peered through the opening. Val was seated on the sofa, her hat still on, fumbling with the catch of her bag. She got it open, reached in, and took out a deck of cards — he saw the schooner on the top card clearly. She dropped her bag and began to spread the cards. But at that moment the telephone rang.