Эллери Куин - The Devil To Pay

He sat back, snorting, and tipped his hat over his eyes again. Fitz looked disgusted and took another drink.

When Ellery left the Independent building Fitz was with him, grumbling that he’d get some news if he had to leg it all over the pueblo himself.

They found Inspector Glücke communing darkly with his thoughts. He jumped up when he saw Ellery.

“What’s behind this, King?” he exclaimed. “Oh, Fitzgerald.” He scowled.

“You take a flying leap at the moon,” snarled Fitz, planting himself in the best chair.

“Peace,” said Ellery. “What did you turn up, Inspector?”

“The La Salle telephone records show that a call was made Monday at five-thirty-five to Hillcrest 2411!”

“The Spaeth number,” said Fitz with awe. He got up and sat down again.

“To whom was the call charged?”

“3-C — the Jardins.”

“So what?” asked Fitz after a moment.

“That,” said Glücke, “is what I’d like to know.”

But Ellery did not seem disturbed. In fact, he began to beam. “Inspector, are you game to play a long shot?”

“What’s this — something else I missed?” grumbled Glücke.

“Call in Rhys Jardin and tell him the charges against him are being withdrawn.”

“What!” exploded Glücke. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

Fitz stayed up this time. “Go ahead, Glücke — see what this screwball’s got!”

“You don’t have to mean it,” said Ellery soothingly. “Just to see how he reacts. What do you say?”

“Aw, nuts,” said the Inspector with bitterness, and he barked an order into his communicator.

Twenty minutes later Rhys Jardin was brought into Inspector Glücke’s office. The Inspector was alone.

“I’ve got news for you, Jardin,” said Glücke abruptly.

“Anything would be better than the Coventry I’ve been subjected to,” said Jardin with an amiable smile.

“Van Every and I have been talking your case over and we think we’ve pulled a boner.”

“A boner?” Glücke was astounded to see that, far from receiving the news joyfully, Jardin seemed positively depressed.

“We’ve just about decided to withdraw the murder charge and let you go.” Jardin half-raised his hand. “As soon as the formalities—”

“Inspector — I’m going to make an unusual request.”

“What?”

“Don’t withdraw the charge.”

“You mean you want to stay in the can?” asked Glücke in amazement.

“I can’t explain. But there are certain reasons—”

The Inspector gaped. Then he shook his head and opened the door. The two detectives came in and Jardin’s features relaxed into their usual pleasant lines.

“Thanks a lot,” he said earnestly, and marched off as another man would have marched to freedom.

The Inspector closed the door and Ellery and Fitzgerald came out of one of the adjoining rooms. “Can you tie that!”

“Give,” said Fitz impatiently, his thick stubby nostrils vibrating in Ellery’s direction.

Glücke wagged his head. “I swear it’s the first time I ever heard of a man asking to be kept in jail for murder!”

“This copper-rivets it,” said Ellery with satisfaction. “That’s all I wanted to know. The five-thirty-five telephone call Monday from the La Salle plus Jardin’s conduct just now tell a plain story.”

“It’s Greek to me.”

“Why should Jardin be so anxious to remain in Jail? Why should he ask to be held on the murder count?”

Understanding leaped into Fitz’s eyes. “My God!” he shouted. “He’s got an out!”

The Inspector paled. “An out?” he echoed feebly.

“Certainly,” said Ellery. “It’s probably an ironclad alibi. I’ve discovered that Jardin warned his daughter to make sure Mibs Austin kept her mouth shut. Now if that five-thirty-five call Monday was made either by Jardin himself or, as seems more likely from the facts, by Val Jardin with Jardin at her side near the switchboard in sight of the Austin girl, then the whole thing becomes clear.”

“Jardin would have an alibi for almost the exact moment of the murder,” cried Fitz. “And if the Austin wench testified in court... zowie!”

Glücke looked ill. “If that’s true,” he muttered, “he doesn’t want the alibi spilled now, so he warns his daughter to keep the Austin girl quiet. This is wonderful.” But there was no appreciation on his face.

“Why the hell should he keep the alibi secret?” asked Fitz, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” drawled Ellery, “if he’s trying to protect some one.” The two men stared at him. “Don’t you see that that’s the exact point? He’s keeping the heat on himself while the one he’s shielding remains unsuspected. He’s protecting Walter Spaeth.”

“Spaeth!” exclaimed the Inspector.

“Of course. Didn’t Walter admit last night he was the man Frank saw wearing Jardin’s coat? He was all ready to talk when Val Jardin shut him up; and after the three of them had their council of war he retracted his admission. That can only mean that Walter didn’t know about Jardin’s alibi until the Jardins told him about it in this office last night. He didn’t know Jardin had an out. So up to last night he was protecting Jardin — at least, he thought he was.”

“From what?” demanded Fitz.

“I don’t know.” Ellery frowned, shrugged. “And now that they’ve all shut up in concert, it’s evident that the Jardins are protecting Walter.”

“From what?” asked Fitz doggedly.

“God only knows, and I’m not His confidant. If they’d only talk, the tight-mouthed idiots! One thing is sure, though — while Jardin has his alibi to protect him, Walter Spaeth is in no such enviable position. They seem to think he’s in a tough spot. Otherwise Jardin wouldn’t be acting so contrary to common sense.”

“Spaeth, huh,” said Glücke in a savage mumble. Fitz drew his bushy brows together, shaking his head a little.

“Yes, Spaeth,” snapped Ellery. “Have you stopped to ask yourself whom Valerie Jardin could have been telephoning when she called the Spaeth house Monday afternoon?”

“Cripe! If it could have been young Spaeth himself—”

“Who else? I think Walter was in his father’s house at five-thirty-five and that the Jardins have known it all along!”

“If he was,” cried the Inspector, “it puts him in the murder room three minutes after the killing! Well, maybe not in the room, but we could track that down. But it’s a cinch now that he, not Jardin, was the only outsider to enter the grounds during the crime period. He was wearing Jardin’s coat, and we’ve got that coat — stained with human blood.” He looked sly. “And another thing — if he killed his old man, then he also tried to frame Jardin for the crime.”

“Horse manure,” said Fitz.

“Didn’t I let him go Monday night before the Jardins? Couldn’t he have beat it back to the La Salle and planted the coat and sword in Jardin’s closet? Besides — I never released this — Walter Spaeth’s fingerprints were found on the rapier as well as Jardin’s. Prints on the weapon!”

“What!” said Ellery in a shocked voice.

“I didn’t see any point,” said Glücke sheepishly, “in sort of confusing the Jardin issue—”

“Walter’s prints on the rapier,” muttered Ellery.

“Anyway, the motive still stands — disinherited, wasn’t he? And always scrapping with his old man, too.” The Inspector rubbed his hands. “It’s a case, boys. It’s got the makings of a case. All I need for Van Every is a couple of witnesses in the right places—”

“Excuse me,” said Fitz, making for the door.