The French Powder Mystery
- Автор: Куин (Квин) Эллери
- Серия: Ellery Queen #2
- Год: 1930
- Язык: английский
- Год: Frederick A. Stokes
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «The French Powder Mystery». Краткое содержание книги:
Ellery’s eyes, as he stepped into the room, were not concerned with its eeriness. They focused immediately on a large, garishly carved table to the side of the bed, on which was an ashtray filled to overflowing with cigaret stubs. He quickly crossed the room and picked up the tray. Then he put it back on the table with a curious gleam in his eye.
“Was this tray with its cigaret stubs here this morning when you locked up, Miss Underhill? he asked sharply.
“Yes. I didn’t touch anything.”
“Then this room hasn’t been tidied since Sunday?”
The housekeeper flushed. “The room was attended to on Monday morning, after Bernice awoke,” she snarled. “I will not hear any imputations against my household, Mr. Queen! I—”
“But why not Monday afternoon?” interposed Ellery, smiling.
“Because Bernice chased the maid out of the room after the bed was made, that’s why!” snapped the housekeeper. “The girl didn’t have time to empty the ashtray. I hope that satisfies you!”
“It does,” murmured Ellery. “Dad — Velie — come here a moment.”
Ellery silently pointed down to the cigaret stubs. There were at least thirty on the tray. Without exception the cigarets, of a flat Turkish variety, had been smoked only one-quarter of their length, and crushed out against the tray. The Inspector picked one up, and peered at a word of gilt lettering near the tip.
“Well, what’s surprising about that?” he demanded. “They’re the same brand as the ones on the card-table in the apartment. Girl must be frightfully nervous, though.”
“But the length, dad, the length,” said Ellery softly. “However, no matter... Miss Underhill, has Miss Carmody always smoked La Duchesse?”
“Yes, sir,” said the housekeeper unpleasantly. “And too many for her health, too. She gets them from some Greek person with an outlandish name — Xanthos, I think it is — who makes them up on special order for young ladies of the better classes. Perfumed, they are!”
“A standing order, I suppose?”
“You suppose correctly. When Bernice’s supply ran out, she merely repeated her order, which was for a box of five hundred always... That’s one thing about Bernice, although you mustn’t take it as anything against the poor child, because too many young ladies have the same pernicious habit — but she smokes altogether too much for propriety and health, too. Her mother never smoked, nor do Marion and Mr. French.”
“Yes, yes, we are aware of those facts, Miss Underhill, thank you.” Ellery took a glassine envelope from his compact pocket-kit and calmly poured into it the dusty contents of the ashtray. The envelope he handed to Velie.
“You had better keep this with whatever mementoes of the case will be filed at Headquarters,” he said in a sprightly tone. “I think it will prove of interest in the final summation... Now, Miss Underhill, if you will please spare us just another slice of your precious time...”
21
Keys Again
Ellery looked quickly about the garish room and strode over to a large door on the side wall. He opened it and uttered a low exclamation of satisfaction. It was a clothes-closet, packed with feminine garments — gowns, coats, shoes, hats in profusion.
He turned once more to Hortense Underhill, who was regarding him with peculiar disquiet. Her lips compressed as she saw his hand absently ruffle through the mass of gowns hanging from the racks.
“Miss Underhill, I believe you said that Miss Carmody was at the apartment some months ago, and hasn’t been there since?”
She nodded stiffly.
“Do you recall what she wore when she was there last?”
“Really, Mr. Queen,” she said in frigid tones, “I haven’t such a memory as you evidently give me credit for. How could I remember that?”
Ellery grinned. “Very well. Where is Miss Carmody’s apartment key?”
“Oh!” The housekeeper was genuinely startled. “That’s a funny thing, now, Mr. Queen — I mean your asking that. Because only yesterday morning Bernice told me that she thought she’d lost her key and asked me to get one of the others’ keys and duplicate it for her.”
“Lost, eh?” Ellery seemed disappointed. “Are you certain, Miss Underhill?”
“I’ve just told you.”
“Well, there’s no harm in looking,” said Ellery cheerfully. “Here, Velie, lend a hand with these duds. You don’t mind, dad?” And in a moment he and the sergeant had attacked the closet with a furious determination, to the accompaniment of the Inspector’s chuckle and Hortense Underhill’s outraged gasp.
“You see...” said Ellery from clenched teeth, as he swiftly passed his hands through coats and gowns, “people don’t generally lose things. They merely think they do... In this case, Miss Carmody perhaps searched for it in a few obvious places and gave it up as hopeless... She probably didn’t look in the right garments... Ah, there, Velie! Splendid!”
The tall sergeant held up a heavy fur coat. In his left hand gleamed a gold-disked key.
“In an inside pocket, Mr. Queen. The fur coat would make it heavy weather when Miss Carmody last used the key.”
“Fair and subtle enough,” said Ellery, taking the key. It was an exact duplicate of Weaver’s key, which he now took from his pocket and compared with the latest discovery — a twin except for the initials B. C. engraved on the disk.
“Why do you want all the keys, El?” demanded the Inspector. “I can’t see any good reason for it.”
“You have enormous powers of perspicacity,” said Ellery gravely. “Now how did you know I wanted all the keys? But you’re perfectly right — I do, and I shall take up a collection very shortly. The reason is surely as plain as the nose on your face, as Crouther would say... Don’t want anybody getting into that apartment for a while, very simply.”
He deposited both keys in his pocket and turned to the unpleasant housekeeper.
“Did you carry out Miss Carmody’s orders about duplicating this ‘lost’ key?” he asked curtly.
The housekeeper sniffed. “I did not,” she said. “Because now that I think of it, I don’t really know whether or not Bernice was jesting with me when she said she had lost the key. And something happened yesterday afternoon that made me undecided about it, and I thought I’d wait until I saw Bernice again to ask her.”
“And what was that, Miss Underhill?” inquired the Inspector, with a slow gentleness.
“Something queer, to tell the truth,” she replied thoughtfully. Her eyes flashed suddenly, and her expression became remarkably more human. “I do want to help,” she said softly. “And I am beginning to think more and more that what happened will help...”
“You have us simply petrified with excitement, Miss Underhill,” murmured Ellery, without changing expression. “Please proceed.”
“Yesterday afternoon, at about four o’clock — no, I think it must have been closer to half-past three — I received a telephone call from Bernice. That was after she had left the house so mysteriously — you know.”
The three men stiffened into strained attention. Velie muttered an indistinguishable curse beneath his breath, but quieted under a flashing glance from the Inspector. Ellery leaned forward.
“Yes, Miss Underhill?” he urged.