Isaac Asimov - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Vol. 64, No. 1. Whole No. 368, July 1974

“You never believed that about the bribes, did you?”

Nick studied her face. “Of course not,” he said.

“Where are you going now?”

“I have one piece of unfinished business. Then maybe we could have a late dinner somewhere.”

“What business?”

“My rented car is back at your uncle’s place.”

“You’re going all the way back there?”

“I don’t want the car found and traced to me. I’ll hire a taxi to take me back.” He settled the copter to a perfect landings “Will you wait for me here at the airport?”

“Sure.”

He kissed her lightly on the cheek, then climbed back to untie Jimmy Claus.

It was dark by the time he returned to the Blake estate, but Hamish was still in the rose garden, refilling holes by the light of an electric lantern. “Find anything?” Nick asked him.

“You know I didn’t. What about Claus?”

“I gave him a good scare. He won’t be back.”

“And Silke?”

“She won’t be back either.”

“Then why did you come back?”

“For the treasure,” Nick said.

“There is no treasure.”

“There’s always a treasure for men like Norbert Blake. We just weren’t looking in the right place.”

“And where’s that?”

“The treasure hunt in The Gold-Bug was at night, and even Silke told me of moonlight treasure hunts when she was a child. Judge Blake dated his note at two o’clock, but he didn’t say day or night.”

“There are no certain shadows cast at night. Even the moon would be in a different position each June 24th.”

“He only specified shadow — not sun or moon. You’re forgetting the most obvious source of light in this garden — the spotlight Silke smashed with her rifle shot last night.”

Hamish’s mouth dropped open. “I never thought of that.”

“Suppose we replace the bulb,” Nick suggested. “The light will be at a much lower angle than the sun today, which means the shadow of that eagle’s beak will end up far away from the rose garden — probably almost to those trees there.”

It took them just ten minutes to dig up the suitcase and to find the packets of hundred-dollar bills wrapped carefully in waterproofed cloth. Hamish was just beginning to count them when the police car pulled up the drive, targeting him with its headlights. They had come to find the statue, and found the treasure instead.

Nick slipped into the woods, leaving Hamish to explain it all the best he could. There’d been no time to grab a packet of the money for himself, but at least he still had his fee. And Silke was waiting for him at the airport.

He guessed he’d wait a while before telling her about the suitcase.

©1974 by Isaac Asimov.

© 1974 by D. R. Bensen.

©1974 by Joyce Harrington.

©1974 by S. S. Rafferty.

©1974 by Philip Atkey.

©1974 by Jon L. Breen.

© 1974 by Robert L. Fish.

©1974 by John Dickson Carr.

©1974 by Kay Nolte Smith.

© 1974 by Kay Nolte Smith.

©1974 by John Pierce.

©1974 by Francis M. Nevins, Jr.

©1974 by Edward D. Hoch.