Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 152, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 926 & 927, November/December 2018

“Did you steal the wine?”

“That’s rather blunt.”

“I thought I’d be blunt,” Julius said. “Please answer the question.”

“No, of course not.”

“Of course not.” Julius showed a razor-thin smile. “But if you were lying to me right now, I’d probably never know it. Is that right?”

“You might, you might not. I couldn’t say.”

“Because you’re a clever liar?”

“When I want to be,” Haisley admitted. “But I’m not lying.”

Julius leaned further back in his chair as he considered the suspect. Haisley was likely a clever man and could’ve been a clever liar, as he suggested. In any case, he seemed to have little trouble meeting Julius’s stare.

I remarked to Julius that this seemed to be a game to Haisley and if he was trying to rattle him, it wasn’t working. He signaled me to wait, and then asked Haisley, “Did Jim Duncan steal the wine?”

“Smiley? I couldn’t say.”

“Why Smiley?”

“That’s Jim’s obviously ironic nickname. He’s got what could only be kindly called a sourpuss personality, which you’ll have a chance to witness firsthand when you question him.”

“I’m afraid I won’t have that opportunity.”

Haisley raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because Duncan was murdered late yesterday evening.”

Haisley looked at Julius with a half grin, as if he were expecting a punch line for a joke. The reaction could’ve been genuine or he could’ve been faking it. Hell if I knew which.

“This is a bad joke,” he insisted.

Julius didn’t answer him and for the next 1.2 seconds Haisley did his best Prescott impersonation by blinking three times in rapid succession. “This isn’t about the stolen wine, then?” he sputtered out.

“Of course not.”

Julius had Haisley rattled then. Or he could’ve been a very clever actor as well as a liar. Whichever it was, Julius let up on the throttle and began asking him routine questions about what he’d done after leaving work yesterday, trying to walk him step by step from when he left the building until after Duncan’s murder had occurred. While Boston Premiere Wines was primarily an auction house for rare wines, they were open to the public Monday through Saturday from nine to five, and Haisley claimed that he’d needed until five-thirty to finish adding a new auction to the website. He then hoofed it to the Faneuil Hall marketplace, where he used cash to buy food from a vendor, and after that sat on a park bench across the street and read a book for two hours before heading home. He doubted anyone would be able to vouch for him, claiming he wasn’t someone people noticed.

“If you ask me, he’s trying a little too hard to create an unverifiable alibi,” I told Julius. “Notice how he made it a point to say that he paid with cash? And how nobody would be able either to remember him or dispute his being there?”

Julius grunted for my benefit, and then proceeded, to no avail, to try to shake Haisley from his story. After an additional fifteen minutes of this, Julius gave up and told Haisley they were done and that Haisley should be able to find his own way out. The Premiere Wines’ webmaster looked stunned by that.

“You mean I’m free to go?” he asked.

“I have no authority to hold you. You were always free to leave whenever you wanted.”

Haisley pushed himself to his feet, looking somewhat shaky. Julius waited until Haisley had his hand on the doorknob to ask him how Desmond Grushnier first established contact with him. Haisley turned back and looked at Julius as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

“I don’t know anyone named Grushnier,” he said.

Julius didn’t bother to say anything further, and his eyes glazed as he watched Haisley leave his office. I watched Haisley over several webcam feeds to make sure he left the townhouse without causing any mischief, and once he was out the front door, I remarked to Julius that if I had to make a wager, I’d bet Haisley hadn’t heard Grushnier’s name before.

Julius made a sour face. “Even if the man’s involved, Grushnier would’ve used an underling to deal with him, and there’s only a slight chance Grushnier’s name would’ve been mentioned. But it still serves our purpose to rattle him.”

One of the reasons Julius wanted to rattle Haisley was that I had arranged with Stan Green to follow him the moment he left the townhouse. If Haisley was shaken up enough, maybe he’d try to go on the run or lead Stan to incriminating evidence. If Haisley attempted to go back to Boston Premiere Wines, Green would intercept him and take him somewhere to babysit him until Julius had a chance to question the other suspects. Julius didn’t want any of them being warned in advance about Duncan’s murder. Obviously, Duncan’s murderer would know, but Julius was hoping that the killer would slip because of that fact — either letting the tension of the moment get to him (or her), or put on a poor show of acting surprised when told the news.

It was ten minutes to twelve and the next suspect was scheduled to arrive at a quarter past. Julius got up from his chair so he could go to the kitchen and make himself a prosciutto, heirloom tomato, basil, and mozzarella cheese sandwich on a French baguette for lunch. He had a bottle of Moscato wine chilling in the refrigerator, and from the longing look he gave it, I know he would’ve liked to pour himself a glass to go with the sandwich, but he steeled himself and left the wine in the fridge. No doubt he considered himself to be showing superhuman resolve by not drinking any wine until he had the case solved.