Egyptian Cross Mystery (10 page)

“Hmm,” he said. “Mr. Brad belonged to the inner shrine. Checkers and pipes—they invariably go together. I’m surprised that there’s no dog before the hearth. Well, nothing here.”

“Any like this one?” demanded Vaughn, producing the Neptune-and-trident pipe.

Ellery shook his head. “You’d scarcely expect to find another, would you? A man wouldn’t have two like that. No case, either. I should think he’d get lockjaw just holding that monstrosity in his mouth. It must have been a gift.”

Ellery turned his attention to the main exhibit—the object which stood to the left of the open secretary on the same wall, across the room from the divan.

It was an ingenious device: a collapsible checker table which, it was evident, could be folded and swung back into a shallow niche in the wall directly behind it, to which it was attached by hinges. A sliding shutter, now resting above the niche, could be lowered to conceal the entire contrivance. In addition, there were two wall chairs, one at each side of the table, which could be similarly swung back into the wall.

“Brad must have been an addict indeed,” remarked Ellery, “to have installed built-in apparatus. Hmm … I suppose this is as he left it. It hasn’t been touched?”

“Not by us, anyway,” said Isham indifferently. “See what you can make of it.”

The top of the table, a glittering piece of craftsmanship, was inlaid in the usual design of sixty-four alternating white and black squares, all surrounded by a rich mother-of-pearl border. There was a wide margin at each player’s side for the stacking of pieces not in play. In the margin, on the side nearer the secretary, nine red checkers lay scattered—red pieces captured by the Black side. In the opposite margin were three black pieces, captured by Red. On the board itself, in position of play, lay three black “kings” (made by placing one black piece above another), and three single black pieces; also two single red pieces, one of which was situated on Black’s first, or starting, row of squares.

Ellery studied the board and the margins thoughtfully. “Where’s the box these came from?”

Isham kicked in the direction of the secretary. On the open dropleaf lay a cheap cardboard rectangular box, empty.

“Eleven red pieces,” said Ellery, gazing at the wall. “There should be twelve, of course. One red piece of the identical description found near the totem post.”

“Right,” sighed Isham. “Checked over with the rest of the household; there aren’t any other checker sets in the house. So that red piece we found must have come from here.”

“Quite so,” said Ellery. “This is interesting, most interesting.” He looked down at the pieces again.

“You think so?” said Isham sourly. “You won’t in a minute. I know what you’ve got in mind. It isn’t so. Wait till I get Brad’s butler in here.”

He went to the door and said to the detective: “Get that Stallings fellow in here again. The butler.”

Ellery raised eyebrows that spoke eloquently, but he said nothing. He went to the secretary and idly picked up the empty cardboard checker box. Isham watched him with a little snarling grin.

“And that, too,” said Isham unexpectedly.

Ellery looked up. “Yes, I wondered about that the moment I came in here. Why an inveterate player who goes to the trouble and expense of installing an elaborate checker outfit should use cheap wooden pieces.”

“You’ll find out in a minute. Nothing startling, I can promise you that.”

The detective opened the door from the hall, and a tall thin man with sallow cheeks and bland eyes entered. He was dressed simply in black. There was something obsequious about him.

“Stallings,” said Isham without preliminary, “I want you to repeat for the benefit of these gentlemen some of the information you gave me this morning.”

“I’ll be glad to, sir,” said the butler. He had a soft, pleasant voice.

“First, how do you explain the fact that Mr. Brad played with these cheap checkers?”

“Very simple, sir, as I told you before. Mr. Brad”—Stallings sighed and rolled his eyes ceilingward—“always used only, the best. He had this table and the chairs made to order, and the wall was hollowed out for them to fit into. At the same time he purchased a very expensive set of ivory checkers, all very intricately carved, you might say, and he has used them for years. Then not long ago Dr. Temple admired the set so much that Mr. Brad, as he said to me one day”—Stallings sighed again—“meant to surprise him by giving him a set just like it. Only two weeks ago he sent his set to some private carver in Brooklyn to have the twenty-four pieces duplicated, and they haven’t come back yet. He couldn’t get anything but these cheap ones at the moment, so he used them in the meantime.”

“And, Stallings,” said the District Attorney, “now tell us about what happened yesterday evening.”

“Yes, sir,” Stallings ran the tip of a red tongue along his lips. “Just before leaving the house last night, as Mr. Brad had ordered—”

“Hold on,” said Ellery sharply. “You were instructed to leave the house last night?”

“Yes, sir. When Mr. Brad got home from the city yesterday, he called Fox, Mrs. Baxter, and myself into this very room.” Stallings swallowed hard at some tender memory. “Mrs. Brad and Miss Helene had already left—they were going to the theater, I believe; Mr. Lincoln didn’t come home for dinner at all. … Mr. Brad looked very tired. He took out a ten-dollar bill and gave it to me, and told Fox, Mrs. Baxter, and me to take the evening off after dinner. He said he wanted to be alone for the entire evening, and told Fox he might take the small car. So we went.”

“I see,” muttered Ellery.

“What’s the story about the checkers, Stallings?” prompted Isham.

Stallings bobbed his long head. “Just before I left the house—Fox and Mrs. Baxter were already in the car in the driveway outside—I went into the library to see if there was anything I could do for Mr. Brad before we left. I asked him, and he said no, and he told me, rather nervously, I thought, to go out with the others.”

“An observant chap, aren’t you?” said Ellery, smiling.

Stallings looked gratified. “I try to be, sir. Anyway, as I told Mr. Isham this morning, when I came in here last evening Mr. Brad was sitting at the checker table playing with himself, so to speak.”

“Then he wasn’t playing with somebody,” muttered Inspector Vaughn. “Why the devil didn’t you tell me, Isham?”

The District Attorney spread his hands, and Ellery said: “Just what do you mean, Stallings?”

“Well, sir, he had all the pieces spread out, blacks and reds, and he was playing both sides. It was the beginning of a game. First he moved a piece from the side where he was sitting, then he thought a while and moved a piece from the opposite side. I saw only two moves.”

“So,” said Ellery, with pursed lips. “In which chair was he sitting?”

“In that one, near the secretary. But when he made the red move he got up and sat in the opposite chair, studying the board as he always does.” Stallings smacked his lips. “A very good player, Mr. Brad was, very careful. He used to practice alone that way very often.”

“And there you are,” said Isham wearily. “The checker business doesn’t mean a curse.” He sighed. “Now about yourselves, Stallings.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the butler. “We all drove to the city. Fox dropped Mrs. Baxter and me off at the Roxy Theater, and said he’d come back for us after the picture let out. I don’t know where he went.”

“And did he come back for you?” asked Inspector Vaughn, suddenly alert.

“No, sir, he did not. We waited a full half-hour for him, but we thought he must have had an accident or something, so we took the train back and cabbed from the station.”

“Cabbed, hey?” The Inspector looked pleased. “Boys at the station did a rushing business last night. What time was it you got back?”

“Around midnight, sir, maybe a little after. I’m not sure.”

“Was Fox back when you got here?”

Stallings looked prim. “I’m afraid I can’t say, sir. I don’t know. He lives in the little cabin in the woods near the Cove, and even if there was a light we couldn’t see it because of the trees.”

“Well, we’ll attend to that. You haven’t had much of a talk with Fox, have you, Isham?”

“I haven’t had the opportunity.”

“One moment,” said Ellery. “Stallings, did Mr. Brad say anything to you last night about expecting a visitor?”

“No, sir. He just said he wanted to be alone for the evening.”

“Did he often send you, Fox, and Mrs. Baxter off that way?”

“No, sir. It was the first time.”

“One thing more.” Ellery went to the circular reading table and tapped the humidor with the tips of his fingers. “Know what’s in this jar?”

Stallings looked astonished. “Certainly, sir! Mr. Brad’s tobacco.”

“Very good! Is this the only pipe tobacco in the house?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Brad was fussy about his tobacco, and that’s a special blend he had made up and imported from England. He never smoked anything else. In fact,” said Stallings in a burst of confidence, “Mr. Brad often said there wasn’t an American pipe tobacco worth its salt.”

For no reason at all an incongruous thought flashed into Ellery’s mind. Andrew Van and his caviar; Thomas Brad and his imported tobacco. … He shook his head. “There’s another thing, Stallings. Inspector, would you mind showing that Neptune’s-head pipe to Stallings?”

Vaughn produced the carved pipe again. Stallings looked at it for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, sir, I’ve seen that pipe around.”

The three men sighed in concert. Luck seemed to be working in the interests of crime rather than punishment. “Yes, that’s the way it goes. … It was Brad’s, eh?” grunted Isham.

“Oh, I’m sure of it, sir,” said the butler. “Not that he’d smoke any one pipe for very long. He always said that a pipe, like a human being, needs a vacation every once in a while. His drawer is full of very good pipes, sir. But I recognize that one, sir. I’ve seen it many times before. Although not lately, come to think of it.”

“All right, all right,” said Isham irritably. “Beat it, now,” and Stallings, with a stiff little bow, became the butler again and marched out of the study.

“That settles the checker business,” said the Inspector grimly, “and the pipe business, and the tobacco business. Just a lot of wasted time. Gives us an interesting lead on Fox, though.” He rubbed his hands. “Not so bad. And with that Oyster Island bunch to look over, we’re going to have a busy day.”

“Days, don’t you think?” smiled Ellery. “This is quite like old times!”

Someone tapped on the door, and Inspector Vaughn crossed the room to open it. A man with a saturnine face stood there. He whispered for some minutes to Vaughn, and Vaughn nodded repeatedly. Finally, the Inspector closed the door and returned.

“What’s up?” demanded Isham.

“Nothing much. A lot of blanks, I’m afraid. My men report that they haven’t found a damned thing on the grounds. Not a thing. Cripes, it’s unbelievable!”

“What were you looking for?” asked Ellery.

“The head, man, the head!”

No one said anything for a long time, and the chill wind of tragedy crept into the room. It was hard to believe, looking out into the sunny gardens, that the master of all this peace and beauty and luxury lay, a stiff headless corpse, in the County Morgue, like any nameless vagrant fished out of Long Island Sound.

“Anything else?” said Isham at last. He was growling to himself.

“The boys have had the railroad station people over the coals,” said Vaughn quietly. “And every resident within five miles. Been looking, Mr. Queen, for possible visitors last night. From Lincoln’s and Stallings’s stories it’s pretty obvious that Brad expected somebody last night. A man doesn’t ship his wife, his stepdaughter, his business associate, and his servants off unless there’s something queer in the wind and he wants privacy. Never did it before, either, see?”

“I see only too clearly,” retorted Ellery. “No, you’re perfectly justified in that assumption, Inspector. Brad expected someone last night, there’s no doubt about it.”

“Well, we didn’t strike one person who could give us a lead. Even the conductors on the trains and the station people don’t remember a stranger coming by rail around nine o’clock or so last night. Neighbors?” The Inspector shrugged. “Couldn’t expect anything there, I suppose. Anyone might have come and gone without leaving a trail.”

“As a matter of fact,” said the District Attorney, “I think you’re attempting the impossible, Vaughn. No visitor coming here last night with criminal intent would be such a damned fool as to get off at the nearest railroad station. He’d get off a station or two before or after and walk the rest of the way.”

“How about the possibility of the visitor’s having come by automobile?” asked Ellery.

Vaughn shook his head. “We looked for that early this morning. But in the grounds themselves the roads are gravel, which aren’t any help; the highways are macadam, and it didn’t rain or anything—no go, Mr. Queen. It’s possible, of course.”

Ellery mused deeply. “There’s still another possibility, Inspector. The Sound!”

The Inspector stared out of the window. “And haven’t we thought of
that,”
he said with an ugly little laugh. “What a cinch it would have been! Hire a boat from the New York or Connecticut shore—a motorboat. … I’ve got a couple of men following that lead up now.”

Ellery grinned.
“Quod fugit, usque sequor
—eh, Inspector?”

“Huh?”

Isham rose. “Let’s get the hell out of here. There’s work to do.”

T
HEY WALKED MORE DEEPLY
into fog. No light appeared anywhere.

It was not to be expected that Mrs. Baxter, the housekeeper, for example, would have anything of importance to contribute. Yet it was necessary, in the interests of thoroughness, to question her. They returned to the drawing room and went through the dreary business. Mrs. Baxter, in a flutter, merely confirmed Stallings’s story of the excursion the night before. No, Mr. Brad had said nothing to her about visitors. No, when she served dinner to Mr. Brad alone in the dining room he did not seem particularly upset, or nervous. Just a little absent-minded, perhaps. Yes, Fox had dropped them off at the Roxy. Yes, she and Stallings had returned to Bradwood by train and taxicab, arriving a little past midnight. No, she didn’t believe Mrs. Brad or the others had come home yet, but she wasn’t certain. The house was dark? Yes, sir. Anything seem wrong? No, sir.