Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 150, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 914 & 915, November/December 2017
- Автор: Фузилли Джим, Харрис Шарлин
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 150, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 914 & 915, November/December 2017». Краткое содержание книги:
“So all we need is a thug with a record.”
“Yes, that’s all we need.”
“What’s this entry?” Chief Gordon said from the worktable where he was going through the log book. “Looks like ‘pipe’?”
“Nothing anyone would steal,” Jo said. “Somerset Maugham is a pipe smoker. Vivian loaned us one of her late husband’s pipes.”
“Okay. You find anything yet?”
“No. Most of what we intended to use on stage was already upstairs. Nothing down here was of any real value.”
“Any jewelry?”
“The actors were supplying their own. And last night they were wearing their costumes for dress rehearsal. Except Mildred had Howard’s dinner jacket.” Jo pointed toward the only item on Mildred’s clothing rack. “Mildred brought it downstairs to fix a loose button.”
“Is that the jacket here on the list.”
“Yes, Vivian loaned us that too.” Jo walked over to the clothing rack. “Since Mildred was working on the jacket — did they check it? Go through the pockets?”
“Nothing in the pockets. And out of range of any blood spatters — not much in the way of blood anyway. Except for the rag that was here on the table. They took that for testing.”
Jo peered at the jacket. “She fixed the button before she was killed.”
“That wouldn’t have taken her long.”
“No, but if someone had been lurking here in the basement—”
“True enough,” Chief Gordon said. “If she had surprised someone down here, he wouldn’t have given her time to do her mending.”
Jo reached for the two books on top of a box containing Chinese lanterns. “These books are from the library. Mildred wanted to make sure she remembered what people were wearing in nineteen twenty-one.”
Chief Gordon said, “Who does this belong to?”
He had opened the drawer of the worktable and was holding up a paperback copy of Maugham’s Of Human Bondage.
“Mildred picked it up somewhere, but we couldn’t figure out how we would use it in the play.”
“Why did she have it in the drawer?”
“She was reading it. She probably just dropped it there to get it out of the way.”
Chief Gordon glanced around. “All right. We’ve been through everything in this room. Everything’s accounted for that Mildred logged in. And you haven’t seen anything out of place.”
“What about the outside door? Did you find fingerprints?”
“The lab boys found them. But we don’t know yet who they belong to.”
“Some of them are going to belong to the construction crew. They brought some things in and out through the basement door.”
“That’s the problem. Too many people using that door and maybe some of them last night.”
“But you haven’t ruled out an intruder?”
“I’m keeping an open mind.”
Jo glanced toward the window Chief Gordon had opened. The room still felt stuffy.
“Chief, would I be sticking my nose into police business if I talked to the people who were here last night?”
“Already doing that, aren’t you? I hear you and Barton had breakfast at the inn this morning.”
“From the glances we were getting, I’m sure you didn’t need a tail on us to hear about that.”
“Nope. I heard about it from a couple of people. Most everyone knows about Mildred by now. The story’s going to be in this evening’s paper.”
“Is Howard writing it?”
“He might be too close to this particular story to write about it. You can ask him about that when you speak to him.”
“So you wouldn’t mind?”
“I can’t keep you from talking to people. But keep in mind how Mildred looked with that ice pick in her chest.”
“I’m not likely to forget that.”
“And if you find out anything, I want to know about it.”
Jo nodded. “I want this case solved as much as you do.”
His gaze held hers. “Getting looks from people make you uncomfortable?”
“I don’t particularly like the feeling. But I also want to know who did that to Mildred.”
When Jo called the Eudora Herald, his editor told her Howard had gone to Albany to do an interview.
Obviously, Chief Gordon hadn’t warned him not to leave town.
“Will he be back this evening?” she asked.
“Should be,” the editor said. “Hey, this is Miss Radcliffe, isn’t it? Jo Radcliffe. Thought I recognized your voice. We met at the Fourth of July picnic.”
“Yes, I remember. Would you leave a message for Howard, please? Tell him that I called.”
“Sure. While I have you on the line, I’m writing the story about Mildred Bloom. I know you found her body—”
“Yes, I did.”
“Do you have any thoughts about who—”
“None. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Jo hung up the phone. She had intended to ask Howard to meet her at the library down the street from the newspaper office. Seeing Mildred’s library books had reminded her she needed to return her own.
She glanced at the books on the hall table. Maybe she’d better wait. No point in giving people a reason to think about the two murder mysteries on the pile.
When they were teenagers, Jo had been struck by the contrast between her own mother — who had dashed through life too absorbed in whatever she was doing to remember to put on fresh lipstick — and Charlotte’s mother, who’d looked like an ad in Ladies’ Home Journal.
“Josephine, how nice to see you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Drake. I hope you don’t mind my dropping by. I wanted to speak to Charlotte.”
“I’m afraid you’ve missed her. She’s been getting so many calls from people about poor Mildred. I told her to just get out of here and go to the matinee.”
Meaning Charlotte had decided to go out, and her mother had agreed that was exactly what she should do.
“Thank you,” Jo said. “I think I’ll see if I can catch her there.”
“I’m sure she won’t mind. The two of you can watch the movie together.” Mrs. Drake waved her hands. “Hurry along, now. You don’t want to miss the best parts.”
Jo glanced at the screen. She had already seen Key Largo twice.
She spotted Charlotte tucked in a back-row seat of the half-empty theater. She had a bag of popcorn.
“Hi,” Jo whispered as she sat down beside her. “Your mother said you were here.”
“Go away,” Charlotte whispered back.
She stood up, spilling her popcorn and stepping on Jo’s toes as she climbed over her to get out.
Jo watched Edward G. Robinson mock Humphrey Bogart, and considered staying right where she was instead of chasing after Charlotte.
When she got outside, Charlotte was halfway down the street and walking fast. Jo sprinted after her.
Charlotte whirled around. “What do you want, Jo?”
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you or anyone else about Mildred and how she died. I don’t know how she died. You kept the storage room locked so that none of us even saw her dead. I’ve been telling people to ask you if they want to know.”
“Gee, thanks, Charlotte. But we still need to talk.”
“I’m going home.”
“I’ll walk with you. Let’s cut down Maple Street.”
Charlotte shook off Jo’s hand on her arm. But she turned toward the side street, away from the passing cars and pedestrians on Main Street.
She marched on, ahead of Jo, who was five eight to her five four. Charlotte angry or frightened, Jo thought, might be capable of wielding an ice pick against a woman her own size.
Jo caught up with her. “About Mildred... you know the people who were there better than I do.”