The American Gun Mystery (Death At the Rodeo)
- Автор: Куин (Квин) Эллери
- Серия: Ellery Queen #6
- Год: 1933
- Язык: английский
- Год: Frederick A. Stokes Company
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «The American Gun Mystery (Death At the Rodeo)». Краткое содержание книги:
“He didn’t give Hunter any cash at all?” frowned the Inspector.
“Hunter said no.”
“That’s funny! But he must have bought chips?”
Kit shrugged. “A few hundred dollars’ worth, said Hunter. Hunter told me he gave Buck credit for the rest. It seems, according to Hunter, that Buck pleaded temporary poverty.”
“Hmm. There’s something screwy somewhere,” muttered the Inspector. “Horne came to New York with eleven grand, deposited five in a bank, withdrew three a few days later — what the deuce happened to all his money if he didn’t give Hunter any cash? That visitor, eh, son?”
Ellery was silently contemplating his cigaret. Kit sat very still. The Inspector took a turn about the room.
“And what did Mr. Hunter want from you?” asked the old man abruptly.
“Hunter said now that Buck was dead and he could never collect on the IOU’s, that I should pay him the amount of the debt!”
“Why, the dirty crook,” murmured the Inspector. “You told him to go plumb, I suppose?”
“I certainly did.” She raised her head again, and her eyes flashed blue-gray lightning momentarily; “I’m afraid I lost my temper. I didn’t even believe him, and I demanded to see the IOU’s. So he brought them out of his safe and showed them to me. Oh, they were genuine enough! And when I said that Hunter must be running his game crookedly, that Buck would never have lost that much at his own old game, faro, if the game was on the square, he grew angry and began to threaten me.”
“Threaten you? How?”
“He said he’d make me pay.”
“How did he propose to do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“And then you walked out on him?”
She said with spirit: “Not before I told him what I thought of him! And I left with a promise to pay Buck’s debt.”
“You did?” The Inspector was shocked. “But, my dear girl, you didn’t have to—”
“A debt,” she said, “is a debt. But I play poker myself, Inspector, and I had a little card up my sleeve. I said: ‘Mr. Hunter, I’ll hold myself personally responsible for discharging my foster-father’s indebtedness to you.’ He became very nice to me at once. ‘But not,’ I went on, ‘until Buck’s murder is cleared up and it’s demonstrated that you’re in no way involved.’ And with that I flounced out.”
The Inspector coughed. “A tall order, Miss Horne. Are you financially able to keep that promise? It seems like a lot of money.”
Kit sighed. “It is a lot of money. I’d never be able to do it if not for — for Buck’s insurance. He’s carried a large policy for many years — a hundred thousand dollars. And since I’m the sole beneficiary...”
“I wonder if Hunter knew—” the Inspector began to mutter.
“He had no unusual expenses — aside from the gambling — since your arrival in New York?” asked Ellery.
“I’m sure he didn’t.”
“Hmm.” Ellery stood bent in thought; suddenly he threw back his shoulders. “Oh, come now,” he said cheerfully, “these things will undoubtedly explain themselves when we know all the truth. Let’s change the subject. I hear you’re joining Grant’s show, Miss Horne. Sudden decision?”
“Oh, that.” Her little brown chin hardened. “Not entirely. I think it’s been in the back of my mind ever since the night Buck was shot. But I’m not really taking Buck’s place as an attraction, Mr. Queens I didn’t want the thing announced at all, but for some reason Mr. Grant insisted on it, and he was supported by Mr. Mars. I’m just being one of the troupe.”
“May I ask what you hope to accomplish?” asked Ellery gently.
She rose and began to pull on her gloves. “Mr. Queen,” she snapped, “I shall never stop looking for Buck’s murderer. I know it sounds melodramatic, but that’s the way I feel about it.”
“Ah, then I take it you believe the murderer of Horne is dangling about the fringes of the rodeo and the Colosseum crowd?”
“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?” she said with a grim little smile. “And now I must be going.” She walked toward the foyer. “Oh yes!” she said suddenly, coming to a stop in the foyer archway. “It almost slipped my mind. The troupe are having a little celebration this afternoon shortly before the opening tonight. I think you ought to be there, Mr. Queen.”
“Celebration?” Ellery was genuinely surprised. “Isn’t that in — ah — slightly bad taste?”
“You see,” she sighed, “it’s a very special occasion. Today’s Curly’s thirtieth birthday, and according to some legacy from his mother he comes into a good deal of money. Curly didn’t want any fuss made under the circumstances, but Wild Bill asked me if it would be all right, and of course I said yes. I don’t want to be a spoil-sport, especially where — Curly’s concerned.”
Ellery coughed. “In that case I’ll be very happy to come. At the Colosseum?”
“Yes. They’re rigging up some tables and things in the arena. I’ll expect you, then.”
She offered her hand, man-fashion, and he took it with a reassuring smile. Then she shook hands with the Inspector, grinned frankly, and left the apartment. They watched her run lightly down the stairs.
“Nice filly,” said the Inspector as he closed the door.
The Inspector had his coat on and was about to leave for Centre Street when the doorbell rang again. Djuna ran to answer it.
“Now who the deuce could that be?” grumbled the Inspector. Ellery, who was at the window watching the operative swing briskly into action as Kit Horne strode off down the street toward Broadway, turned quickly.
Major Kirby stood smiling in the foyer archway.
“Ah, come in, Major!” said Ellery.
“Always seem to have the knack of coming places at the wrong time,” said the Major. He was glittering in freshly pressed clothes, he carried a jaunty stick, his velour was perfectly brushed, and there was a gardenia in his lapel. “Sorry, Inspector — I see you’re ready to go out. I shan’t be a minute.”
“That’s all right,” said the Inspector. “Have a cigar?”
“No, thanks.” Major Kirby seated himself and carefully hitched his trousers up. “Met Miss Horne on the stairs as I was coming up. Little social visit, eh?... Just dropped in to see if I could be of further service, you know. I’ve sort of fallen into the habit of co-operating with the police, and damn it if it isn’t a pleasant feeling!”
“For people with milk-fed consciences,” grinned Ellery.
“I’m officiating at the Colosseum again tonight,” said Kirby. “My old job presiding over the news cameras. I wanted to find out if you and Inspector Queen had anything special in mind for me.”
“Special?” The Inspector frowned. “What d’ye mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It will be sort of — funny, going over the same routine as a month ago.”
“You think somethin’s going to happen?” snapped the Inspector. “We’re having men all over the place, but—”
“Oh, no, no, really. I’ve nothing like that in my noodle. But I can film special things, you know, in case—”
The Inspector looked puzzled. Ellery smiled and murmured: “Decent of you, Major. But I’m sure tonight’s will be all good clean wholesome fun. At any rate, I’ll see you at the arena this evening.”
“Sure enough.” The Major rose, adjusted his cravat, sniffed his gardenia, and shook hands. On the way out he patted Djuna’s head. He was still smiling when the door closed upon his neat little figure.
“Now what the devil,” growled the Inspector, “did that mean?”