Calamity Town (31 page)

‘Why should that make a difference?'

Carter put his head between his hands. ‘Because there's every reason to believe the car he was driving didn't go through that rail into the ravine by accident.'

‘I see,' said Ellery.

‘I didn't want to tell that to the Wrights. But Dakin and I both think Jim drove that car off the road deliberately.'

Mr Queen said nothing.

‘And somehow that made me think—don't know why it should have—well, I began to wonder. Queen!' Carter jumped up. ‘For God's sake, tell me if you know! I won't sleep until I'm sure.
Did Jim Haight commit that murder?
'

‘No.'

Carter stared at him. ‘Then who did?' he asked hoarsely.

Mr Queen rose, too. ‘I shan't tell you.'

‘Then you do know!'

‘Yes,' sighed Ellery.

‘But Queen, you can't—'

‘Oh, but I can. Don't think it's easy for me. My whole training rebels against this sort of—well, connivance. But I like these people. They're nice people, and they've been through too much. I shouldn't want to hurt them any more. Let it go. The hell with it.'

‘But you can tell me, Queen!' implored Cart.

‘No. You're not sure of yourself, not yet, Bradford. You're rather a nice chap. But the growing-up process—it's been retarded.' Ellery shook his head. ‘The best thing you can do is forget it, and get Patty to marry you. She's crazy in love with you.'

Carter grasped Ellery's arm so powerfully that Ellery winced. ‘But you've
got
to tell me!' he cried. ‘How could I…knowing that anyone…any
one
of them…might be…?'

Mr Queen frowned in the darkness. ‘Tell you what I'll do with you, Cart,' he said at last. ‘You help these people get back to normal in Wrightsville. You chase Patty Wright off her feet. Wear her down. But if you're not successful, if you feel you're not making any headway, wire me. I'm going back home. Send me a wire in New York and I'll come back. And maybe what I'll have to say to you and Patty will solve your problem.'

‘Thanks,' said Carter Bradford hoarsely.

‘I don't know that it will,' sighed Mr Queen. ‘But who can tell? This has been the oddest case of mixed-up people, emotions, and events I've ever run across. Goodbye, Bradford.'

29

The Return of Ellery Queen

This, thought Mr Ellery Queen as he stood on the station platform, makes me an admiral all over again. The second voyage of Columbus…He glanced moodily at the station sign. The tail of the train that had brought him from New York was just disappearing around the curve at Wrightsville Junction three miles down the line. He could have sworn that the two small boys swinging their dirty legs on the hand truck under the eaves of the station were the same boys he had seen—in another century!—on his first arrival in Wrightsville. Gabby Warrum, the station agent, strolled out to stare at him. Ellery waved and made hastily for Ed Hotchkiss's cab, drawn up on the gravel. As Ed drove him ‘uptown,' Ellery's hand tightened in his pocket about the telegram he had received the night before. It was from Carter Bradford, and it said simply:
‘COME. PLEASE.'

He had not been away long—a matter of three weeks or so—but just the same it seemed to him that Wrightsville had changed. Or perhaps it would be truer to say that Wrightsville had changed
back
. It was the old Wrightsville again, the town he had come into so hopefully the previous August, nine months ago. It had the same air of unhurried peace this lovely Sunday afternoon. Even the people seemed the old people, not the maddened horde of January and February and March and April. Mr Queen made a telephone call from the Hollis Hotel, then had Ed Hotchkiss drive him up the Hill. It was late afternoon and the birds were whizzing and chirping at a great rate around the old Wright house. He paid Ed off, watched the cab chug down the Hill, and then strolled up the walk. The little house next door—the house of Nora and Jim—was shuttered up; it looked opaque and ugly in its blindness. Mr Queen felt a tremor in his spine. That
was
a house to avoid. He hesitated at the front steps of the big house, and listened. There were voices from the rear gardens. So he went around, walking on the grass. He paused in the shadow of the oleander bush, where he could see them without being seen.

The sun was bright on Hermy, joggling a brand-new baby carriage in an extremely critical way. John F. was grinning, and Lola and Pat were making serious remarks about professional grandmothers, and how about giving a couple of aunts a chance to practise, for goodness' sake? The baby would be home from the hospital in just a couple of weeks! Mr Queen watched, unobserved, for a long time. His face was very grave. Once he half turned away, as if he meant to flee once and for all. But then he saw Patricia Wright's face again, and how it had grown older and thinner since last he had seen it; and so he sighed and set about making an end of things. After five minutes of delicate reconnaissance he managed to catch Pat's eye while the others were occupied—caught her eye and put his finger to his lips, shaking his head in warning.

Pat said something casual to her family and strolled towards him. He backed off, and then she came around the corner of the house and flew into his arms. ‘Ellery! Darling! Oh, I'm so
glad
to see you! When did you come? What's the mystery for? Oh, you bug—I
am
glad!' She kissed him and held him close, and for a moment her face was the gay young face he had remembered.

He let her sprinkle his shoulder, and then he took her by the hand and drew her towards the front of the house. ‘That's your convertible at the curb, isn't it? Let's go for a ride.'

‘But Ellery, Pop and Muth and Lola—they'll be heartbroken if you don't—'

‘I don't want to disturb them now, Patty. They look really happy, getting ready for the baby. How is she, by the way?' Ellery drove Pat's car down the Hill.

‘Oh, wonderful. Such a clever little thing! And do you know? She looks just like—' Pat stopped. Then she said quietly: ‘Just like Nora.'

‘Does she? Then she must be a beautiful young lady indeed.'

‘Oh, she is! And I'll swear she knows Muth! Really, I mean it. We can't
wait
for her to come home from the hospital. Of course, Mother won't let
any
of us touch little Nora—that's her name, you know—when we visit her—we're there practically
all
the time! except that I sneak over there alone once in a while when I'm not supposed to…Little Nora is going to have Nora's old bedroom—ought to see how we've fixed it up, with ivory furniture and gewgaws and big teddy bears and special nursery wallpaper and all—anyway, the little atom and I have secrets…well, we do!…of course, she's out of the incubator…and she gurgles at me and hangs on to my hand for dear life and
squeezes
. She's so fat, Ellery, you'd laugh!'

Ellery laughed. ‘You're talking like the old Patty I knew—'

‘You think so?' asked Pat in a queer voice.

‘But you don't
look—
'

‘No,' said Pat. ‘No, I don't. I'm getting to be an old hag. Where are we going?'

‘Nowhere in particular,' said Ellery vaguely, turning the car south and beginning to drive towards Wrightsville Junction.

‘But tell me! What brings you back to Wrightsville? It must be us—couldn't be anyone else! How's the novel?'

‘Finished.'

‘Oh, grand! Ellery, you never let me read a word of it. How does it end?'

‘That,' said Mr Queen, ‘is one of my reasons for coming back to Wrightsville.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘The end,' he grinned. ‘I've ended it, but it's always easy to change the last chapter—at least, certain elements not directly concerned with mystery plot. You might be a help there.'

‘Me? But I'd love to! And—oh, Ellery. What am I thinking of? I haven't thanked you for that magnificent gift you sent me from New York. And those wonderful things you sent Muth, and Pop, and Lola. Oh, Ellery, you shouldn't have. We didn't do anything that—'

‘Oh, bosh. Seeing much of Cart Bradford lately?'

Pat examined her fingernails. ‘Oh, Cart's been around.'

‘And Jim's funeral?'

‘We buried him next to Nora.'

‘Well!' said Ellery. ‘You know, I feel a thirst coming on. How about stopping in somewhere for a long one, Patty?'

‘All right,' said Pat moodily.

‘Isn't that Gus Olesen's
Roadside Tavern
up ahead? By gosh, it is!' Pat glanced at him, but Ellery grinned and stopped the car before the tavern, and helped her out, at which she grimaced and said men in Wrightsville didn't do things like that, and Ellery grinned again, which made Pat laugh; and they walked into Gus Olesen's cool place arm in arm, laughing together; and Ellery walked her right up to the table where Carter Bradford sat waiting in a coil of knots, and said: ‘Here she is, Bradford. C.O.D.'

‘Pat,' said Cart, his palms flat on the table.

‘Cart!' cried Pat.

‘Good morrow, good morrow,' chanted a cracked voice; and Mr Queen saw old Anderson the Soak, seated at a nearby table with a fistful of dollar bills in one hand and a row of empty whisky glasses before him.

‘Good morrow to you, Mr Anderson,' said Mr Queen; and while he nodded and smiled at Mr Anderson, things were happening at the table; so that when he turned back there was Pat, seated, and Carter seated, and they were glaring at each other across the table. So Mr Queen sat down, too, and said to Gus Olesen: ‘Use your imagination, Gus.' Gus scratched his head and got busy behind the bar.

‘Ellery.' Pat's eyes were troubled. ‘You tricked me into coming here with you.'

‘I wasn't sure you'd come, untricked,' murmured Mr Queen.

‘I asked Queen to come back to Wrightsville, Pat,' said Cart hoarsely. ‘He said he'd—Pat, I've tried to see you, I've tried to make you understand that we can wipe the past out, and I'm in love with you and always was and always will be, and that I want to marry you more than anything in the world—'

‘Let's not discuss
that
any more,' said Pat. She began making pleats in the skirt of the tablecloth. Carter seized a tall glass Gus set down before him; and Pat did, too, with a sort of gratitude for the diversion; and they sat in silence for a while, drinking and not looking at each other.

At his table old Anderson had risen, one hand on the cloth to steady himself, and he was chanting:—

‘
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars
,

And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren
,

And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre of the highest
,

And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven—
'

‘Siddown, Mr Anderson,' said Gus Olesen gently. ‘You're rockin' the boat.'

‘Whitman,' said Mr Queen, looking around. ‘And very apt.'

Old Anderson leered, and went on:—

‘
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery
,

And the cow, crunching with depressed head, surpasses any statue
,

And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels!
'

And with a courtly bow the Old Soak sat down again and began to pound out rhythms on the table. ‘I was a poet!' he shouted. His lips waggled. ‘And l-look at me now…'

‘Yes,' said Mr Queen thoughtfully. ‘That's very true indeed.'

‘Here's your poison!' said Gus at the next table, slopping a glass of whisky before Mr Anderson. Then Gus looked very guilty and, avoiding the startled eyes of Pat, went quickly behind his bar and hid himself in a copy of Frank Lloyd's
Record
. Mr Anderson drank, murmuring to himself in his gullet.

‘Pat,' said Mr Queen, ‘I came back here today to tell you and Carter who was really responsible for the crimes Jim Haight was charged with.'

‘Oh,' said Patty, and she sucked in her breath.

‘There are miracles in the human mind, too. You told me something in the hospital waiting room the day Nora died—one little acorn fact—and it grew into a tall tree in my mind.'

‘“And a mouse,”' shouted Mr Anderson exultantly, ‘“is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels!'”

Pat whispered: ‘Then it wasn't Jim after all…Ellery no! Don't! Please! No!'

‘Yes,' said Ellery gently. ‘That thing is standing between you and Cart. It's a question mark that would outlive you both. I want to erase it and put a period in its place. Then the chapter will be closed and you and Cart can look each other in the eye again with some sort of abiding faith.' He sipped his drink, frowning. ‘I hope!'

‘You hope?' muttered Cart.

‘The truth,' said Ellery soberly, ‘is unpleasant.'

‘Ellery!' cried Pat.

‘But you're not children, either of you. Don't delude yourselves. It would stand between you even if you married…the uncertainty of it, the not-knowing, the doubt and the night-and-day question. It's what's keeping you apart, and what has kept you apart. Yes, the truth is unpleasant. But at least it is the truth, and if you know the truth, you have knowledge; and if you have knowledge, you can make a decision with durability…Pat, this is surgery. It's cut the tumor out, or die. Shall I operate?'

Mr Anderson was singing ‘Under the Greenwood Tree' in a soft croak, beating time with his empty whisky glass. Patty sat up perfectly straight, her hands clasped about her glass. ‘Go ahead…Doctor.' And Cart took a long swallow, and nodded.

Mr Queen sighed. ‘Do you recall, Pat, telling me in the hospital about the time I came into Nora's house—last Hallowe'en—and found you and Nora transferring books from the living room to Jim's new study upstairs?' Pat nodded wordlessly. ‘And what did you tell me? That the books you and Nora were lugging upstairs you had just removed from a
nailed box
. That you'd gone down into the cellar just a few minutes before I dropped in, seen the box of books down there all nailed up, exactly as Ed Hotchkiss had left it when he cabbed it from the station weeks and weeks before…
seen the box intact and opened it yourself
.'