The American Gun Mystery (Death At the Rodeo)

“That’s right, Inspector.”

“Go on, Miss Horne.”

She shrugged helplessly. “But there’s nothing more to tell. Buck was making out a check. I said hello and left the Colosseum—”

“Time,” said Ellery pleasantly; he was interested again. “What was the purpose of this check, Mr. Grant?”

“Nothin’ special. Buck asked me if I could cash a twenty-five dollar check fer him, an’ I said yes. So he made it out an’ I gave him the money.”

“Indeed,” said Ellery without inflection. “And what did you do with this check? Have you got it on you, Mr. Grant?”

“Why, no,” drawled Grant. “I stepped out a minute m’self a little later an’ stopped in at my bank — the Seaboard National. So I deposited it.”

“Innocent enough,” agreed Ellery, and retired.

The Inspector gave him a sharp look, then turned back to Grant. “Was that the last you saw of him?”

“No. I was comin’ back from the bank, just in the entrance to the buildin’ here, when I bumped into Buck again. Had his hat an’ coat on. ‘Where ya bound?’ I asked ’im. ‘Hotel,’ he says. ‘Want to rest up fer t’night.’ An’ that’s all. Never had another word with ’im. He come in late tonight, kind of excited, I thought, waved ’is hand at me as he rushed fer his dressin’ room. There was hardly enough time fer him to change ’is duds an’ get into the arena.”

The Queens looked at each other. “That might be important,” muttered the Inspector. “Got in late, did he? What time was it when he said he was going to the Barclay?”

“Round about four o’clock.”

“Hmm. Did you see Buck again after you left the building, Miss Horne?”

“Yes. When I left I went straight back to the hotel. Buck came in about a half-hour or so later, and said he was going to take a nap. I changed my things and — and went downstairs. And—”

Curly Grant spoke for the first time. “From that time on,” he said belligerently, “Miss Horne was with me. I met her in the lobby, and we went out for the rest o’ the afternoon.”

“Yes,” said Kit in a whisper.

“And when you got back?” asked the Inspector.

“Buck was already gone; he’d left a note for me on my night-table. So I changed into “my evening things and taxied to the Colosseum. I didn’t see him again until,” her voice quavered, “until he rode into the arena.”

“Oh, so you were late, too?” said the Inspector slowly.

“What do you mean?”

The old man smiled and waved a deprecating hand. “Nothing at all, my dear, nothing at all!” He took a pinch of snuff and sneezed with violence. “Only — Mr. Grant (k’choo!) Mr. Grant said your father was late, so that means you must have been later still. You see? Very simple!”