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There Was an Old Woman [= The Quick And the Dead]
- Автор: Куин (Квин) Эллери
- Год: 1943
- Язык: английский
- Год: Little, Brown and Company
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «There Was an Old Woman [= The Quick And the Dead]». Краткое содержание книги:
“Who had possession of the large sealed envelope during that interim? Only one person: Charles Hunter Paxton. Mr. Paxton, who when you originally handed him the envelope at the dead woman’s bedside, Dad, couldn’t contain his curiosity and at the first opportunity steamed it open, found the will, found the note at the bottom of the will, found the smaller sealed envelope purporting to contain a revelation of the murderer’s identity — who naturally steamed that envelope open, read the Old Woman’s confession, realized that he couldn’t destroy it, saw that he could only make it seem a forgery, and thereupon went through all the motions necessary to achieve that end; and when he had forged the stock memo, he resealed the small envelope with the confession in it, resealed the large envelope with the small envelope and will in it, and then produced the sealed large envelope at the formal reading, as if its contents had never been disturbed at all.” Mr. Queen’s voice became a whip. “You’re a fool, Paxton, to think you could get away with any such involved stupidity!”
For a moment Inspector Queen thought the young lawyer would spring at Ellery’s throat. But then Paxton’s shoulders seemed to collapse, and he dropped into a chair to cover his face with his hands. “I’m tired. It’s true. Everything he said is true. I’m glad it’s over. I’m tired of being clever.”
Mr. Queen thought this last remark might very well be added to the distinguished list of native American epitaphs.
30
There Was a Young Woman
“Say, Maestro,” said Sergeant Velie the next day, stretching his legs halfway across the Queen living room, “I always seem to miss the third act. Why didn’t you send me an Annie Oakley?”
“Because I didn’t know myself,” grinned Ellery. The lines of anxiety had disappeared from his lean face and he seemed passably pleased with himself.
“Seems to me,” chuckled the Inspector, “you didn’t know a whole lot of things, my son.”
“True, how true,” mourned Ellery.
“When you really take a look at it, your proof was pretty much a matter of slats, cardboard, and spit.”
“Mmm,” said Mr. Queen. “Well, yes. But remember, I was working it out extempore. I’d no chance to prepare my attack; I couldn’t let that wedding proceed; I had to do what I could on the spot, working my way from point to point.”
“What a man,” said Sergeant Velie. “He works his way from point to point. Sort of like a mountain goat, huh?”
“But I had certain advantages, too. Charley was caught off guard in the middle of his wedding — at a time when he thought he’d pulled the whole thing off and had got away with it.”
“And now he’s chewing his fingernails off in the hoosegow,” said the Sergeant. “Such a life.”
“Circumstantial evidence,” persisted the Inspector.
“But very strong circumstantial evidence, Dad. That last point — about the possession of the sealed envelope — powerful. It was my silver bullet. And it caught Charley Paxton dead center. Yes, he cracked and confessed. But I knew he would. No man can stand up under a confident attack at a time when he’s unprepared, after a long period of strain. Charley’s the intellectual type of killer, the type that will always crack under blows an ordinary desperado wouldn’t even feel.”
“Yes, sir,” nodded Sergeant Velie, “here yesterday, in the hoosegow today. It makes you think.”
“It makes me think I’ve never been so happy to see the end of a case,” yawned the Inspector. “What a case!”
“You haven’t quite seen the end of it,” suggested his son respectfully.
“Huh?” The Inspector bounced to his feet. “Don’t tell me you just realized you’ve made another mistake!”
“In a way, yes,” mused Ellery. But his eyes were twinkling. “Sheila Brent phoned me. She’s on her way over.”
“What for?” Inspector Queen stuck his little jaw out. But then he shook his head. “Still got a hangover, I guess. Poor girl’s taken a bad beating. What’s she want, Ellery?”
“I don’t know. But I know what I want.”
“What?”
“To help her. I don’t know just why—”
“Aha,” said his father. “Velie, let’s get out of here.”
“And why not?” The Sergeant rose, stretching. “I’ll tell you what you can do for Miss Brent Maestro. You can help her spend some of those millions of bucks.” And the Sergeant left, grumbling that the policeman’s lot is not a lucrative one.
“I don’t think, Velie,” Mr. Queen called after him, “that that’s quite what the doctor ordered for Miss Brent.”
And he sat musing on various therapeutic matters until his doorbell rang.
“It’s good to see you minus a hunted look,” said Ellery. “I’d begun to be afraid it was permanent.”
But Sheila was not looking too well. She was pale and her dimples spiritless this morning. “Thanks. Could you give a woman a drink of something wet and cold?”
“For a dry and thirsty day — certainly.” And Ellery promptly set about mixing something wet and cold. He was nervous, and Sheila remarked it.
“I hope I’m not getting in your hair,” she sighed. “I seem to have been hanging onto you — in a way — since... Oh. Thanks, Mr. Queen.”
“Ellery.”
He watched her sip the frosty drink and thought how pleasant it might be to repeat the service ad infinitum.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what I had to do yesterday, Sheila—”
“Sorry!” She set down the drink. “And here I’ve been so grateful—”
“You weren’t too shocked?” he asked anxiously. “You see, I had no time to warn you—”
“I understand.”
“Naturally I couldn’t let you go through with it.”
“Naturally.” She even smiled. “If that isn’t just like a man. Save a woman from—” she shuddered — “from the most horrible kind of mistake... and apologize for it!”
“Well, but I thought—”
“Well, but you’re a love,” said Sheila queerly. “And I can never thank you enough. That’s why I asked if I might drop in. I had to tell you in person.”
“Don’t say another word about it,” said Ellery in a nettled tone. “I don’t know why you should thank me. I must be associated in your mind almost entirely with nastinesses, and clues, and policemen, and brutal revelations—”
“Oh, don’t be an idiot!” cried Sheila. And then she said, blushing: “I’m sorry, Mr. Queen.”
“Ellery.” Ellery felt vastly pleased. “Sheila, why don’t you start a new life?”
She stared. “If you aren’t the suddenest man!”
“Well, I mean — you ought to leave that nest of blubbering imbeciles on Riverside Drive, put yourself into a new and cheerful environment, get a real interest in life—”
“Of course you’re right.” Sheila frowned. “And I’m certainly going to get out into the world and try to forget everything I ever... I’ve found that having money doesn’t solve anything important. I’ve always wanted to do something useful, but Mother wouldn’t let me. If I could only find work of some sort — work I’d enjoy doing...”