The Finishing Stroke (10 page)

The exodus to the living room had something in it of a disorderly retreat. Like any battle casualty, Ellen found herself bringing up the rear. Dr. Dark had pronounced her ankle sprained only superficially and he had taped it under her uncle's anxious eyes, but she was limping.

She came into the living room just in time to hear Sergeant Devoe say from the fireplace, ‘Nothing doing, Mr. Queen. Either he was too cute to come out from under cover, or I missed it.'

‘What's this, now?' Ellen asked.

‘It's the “third night of Christmas,” ' Ellery said. He sounded glum.

All eyes turned at once to the Christmas tree. There was nothing beneath it.

‘I'd forgotten about that business,' Arthur Craig exclaimed. ‘What did you do, set a trap?'

‘Of sorts. The sergeant staked himself out where he could spot everything going on in the hall and living room here, forgoing his dinner to do so. And you saw nobody, Sergeant?'

‘Nobody and nothing.'

Ellery muttered, ‘I don't understand that. There has to be a third gift. He's not going to stop at two … Go get your dinner, Sergeant, and thanks.'

Devoe left the room with a hungry stride.

‘Doesn't he ever sleep or change his clothes?' Dr. Dark asked irritably.

‘He has a relief who comes on at midnight and goes off before anyone's up,' Ellery said. ‘It gives Devoe a chance to run over to the barracks for a few hours' sleep.'

‘Relief?' Roland Payn snarled. ‘Has anyone laid eyes on him?'

No one replied. Providentially, Felton appeared to serve brandy to the men and liqueurs to the ladies, and after a moment conversation became general.

It happened, almost as Ellery had come to expect, unexpectedly. On one of his serving tours about the room, Felton passed close to the Christmas tree. A projecting ornament at the tip of one of the branches brushed a cordial glass on his tray, and in trying to grab the glass before it fell Felton lost his balance and blundered into the tree. A shower of tinsel balls fell.

‘Devoe!' Ellery roared.

The sergeant came running, a napkin tucked in his collar, jaws still grinding away at a mouthful of roast beef.

‘What's the trouble?' He looked around frantically.

‘Look.'

The sergeant's eye sighted along Ellery's accusative arm. There, under the tree, nestling among the fallen ornaments, lay a tiny package of red and green metallic paper, bound with gilt ribbon.

Sergeant Devoe began to stutter, ‘But nobody –'

‘Of course not,' Ellery snapped. ‘Because it was done this afternoon, while you and I were out of the house, or at the latest early this evening before we arranged your watch. He simply tucked it deep among the branches. One of us would have found it eventually. Damn his playful soul, he's toying with us!'

Ellery snatched the little package from under the tree. The now familiar Santa Claus tag, with its typewritten ‘John Sebastian', he tossed aside. He stripped the wrappings from the plain white box. Inside lay something wrapped in red tissue paper, and on it a small white card with another typewritten verse:

And that, precisely, was what the tissue paper concealed: a plain iron nail that had been bent double in the crude shape of a hook.

Ellery went to the oak cabinet he had commandeered the night before as a storage place for the gifts, unlocked it with the key his host had given him, and took out the much-handled little house. He set it down on the refectory table and lifted the roof off.

‘Here it is,' he said through his teeth. ‘Two little metal eyes for the nail to slip into and hook the roof securely to the upper storey. I remember wondering what they were for. Now we know.'

‘Know what, Mr. Queen?' Mr. Gardiner asked with unworldly innocence. ‘It fails to convey anything to me.'

Olivette Brown's fanatical green eyes were on fire with triumph. ‘Iron!' she cried. ‘How could any of you know? Yes, including you, Mr. Gardiner –'

‘Olivette,' the old gentleman said.

‘Especially
you. But I've studied these things. Oh, I know that makes a bad Christian out of me, Mr. Gardiner, but some of this knowledge was old when our Lord walked the earth. Did you know that iron has the power to drive off evil spirits?'

‘Then how is it, Olivette,' Mr. Gardiner asked mildly, ‘that in all the literature of witches and sorcerers I've ever run across, evil spirits invariably use vessels and instruments of iron to prepare their brews?'

‘Hear, hear,' Dan Z. Freeman said.

‘Mother,
please
,' Rusty begged.

Mrs. Brown, constrained by some inner discipline from attacking her former pastor, turned on the unfortunate publisher. ‘I know your kind, Mr. Freeman! Tear down, tear down!'

‘But my dear Mrs. Brown,' Freeman protested, ‘I didn't –'

‘Then why is iron
proof against ghosts?
Or didn't you know that?'

‘Frankly, no.' Freeman was plainly distressed at being the focus of a controversy. ‘But then I don't understand why all the ghosts of European castles I've ever heard of spend their nights dragging heavy chains around the premises.'

‘You can sneer at these things all you want, Mr. Freeman!' The woman's neck was stringy with rage. ‘But this I can assure you: from the dawn of time, when an epileptic goes into a fit they'll drive
an iron nail
into the ground to pin the demon! What do you think
of that
?”

‘It ought to be called to the attention of the American Medical Association,' Dr. Sam Dark said gravely.

‘
Oh
!' Olivette Brown stamped out. Rusty ran after her.

‘I'm sorry,' the fat physician said. ‘But I can't believe she's serious about half the blither that comes out of her mouth.'

Mr. Gardiner rose, shaking his head. He hurried after mother and daughter.

As if there had been no interruption whatever, Ellery said, ‘The other side of the card is blank … again.'

That night, writing in his diary, Ellery added to his account of the day's events a short paragraph:

Three gifts of the twelve now … subdividing into six different objects, an ox, a house, a camel, a door, a window, a nail. On the surface: idiocy or sheer malicious nonsense. Yet I can't get over the feeling that they have a connective meaning. The only thing is:
What
?

6 Fourth Night:
Saturday, December 28, 1929

In Which Mr. Sebastian Develops a Puzzling Loss of Memory, Lieutenant Luria Tries Guile, and Mr. Queen Is Once Again Outwitted

At breakfast, Marius looked hung over. He ate silently, taking no part in the debate going on at the table.

Dr. Sam Dark had brought the subject up by announcing that he was putting in his bid for the use of the radio in the late afternoon – Army was playing Stanford in Palo Alto, and both CBS and NBC were broadcasting the game beginning at 4.45 Eastern time. This led naturally to a discussion of Chris ‘Red' Cagle, the Cadets' great All-American halfback, for whom the struggle with the Cardinals would be his last college game. Would Cagle tip the scales? Would the fact that it was his last football game spur him to feats of gridiron prowess extraordinary even for him? These were the burning questions of the argument, with Dr. Dark taking the anti-Cagle tack and Mr. Gardiner, Roland Payn, Arthur Craig and, in spite of himself, Ellery supporting the romantic view.

Chapter and verse were cited, including the crushing statistic of Army's defeat by Knute Rockne's undefeated Notre Dame team the month before – the good doctor delivering this blow; whereupon Mr. Gardiner sniffed that a 7–0 final score was hardly Armageddon, and the doctor retorted, ‘Yes, but what did Cagle do? Nothing but toss the pass that Jack Elder intercepted and ran ninety-eight yards for the only touchdown of the game!' This was deplored by Mr. Payn as an argument
ad hominem
, although he granted that Mr. Cagle had not had as good a year as in '28 …

And so it went, while Marius's jaws chomped and ground, and he never raised his eyes from his plate.

John Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed fully recovered this morning; he was cheerful, if on the absent-minded side, several allusions to the previous day's difficulties seeming to pass over his head; for the most part he heckled the disputants, taking one side and then the other where his partisanship might do the most mischief. Rusty kept looking at him queerly; but then Valentina was directing the same sort of look at Marius.

The young musician refused a second cup of coffee, hesitated, rose, excused himself and left the dining room. Immediately Val Warren followed. A minute later she returned, slipped into her chair and resumed her breakfast. And a moment after that Marius reappeared.

‘John.' He seemed to be having some trouble swallowing. ‘Could I see you for a moment? You and Rusty?'

John looked surprised. ‘Okie-doke. Excuse us?'

They followed Marius into the living room.

‘Well, it's about time,' Olivette Brown snapped. ‘Though I should think he wouldn't need
somebody else
to talk him into apologizing after the beastly way he acted yesterday.'

‘More coffee, Mrs. Brown?' Craig muttered.

Valentina said nothing.

Five minutes later Marius returned, alone. His dark features were eloquent with astonishment.

‘Mr. Craig, I don't mean to worry you, but is anything wrong with John? Have you noticed any, well, absent-mindedness on his part lately?'

The bearded man was puzzled. ‘I don't know what you mean, Marius. Why?'

‘I hoisted a few too many yesterday.' The musician reddened. ‘I mean, that business with Rusty …'

‘I understand. But I don't really see –'

‘Apologizing isn't my forte, but … Anyway, I just apologized to Rusty and John. Rusty was very understanding – ‘

‘And John wasn't?' Craig smiled in relief. ‘Well, young people in love, my boy … What does Dryden call jealousy? “Thou tyrant of the mind.”

‘I don't mean that, Mr. Craig. What I mean is … it seems John doesn't remember what happened yesterday.'

Craig looked blank.

‘At first I thought he was pulling my leg. But he wasn't. He actually didn't recall our Fight, Sergeant Devoe's stepping in – anything about it.'

‘But how could he possibly have forgotten?' Valentina exclaimed. ‘In less than twenty-four hours!'

The bearded man glanced in bewilderment at Dr. Dark.

The fat doctor was thoughtful. ‘It sounds to me like an amnesic episode of some sort, Arthur. Maybe a result of a head blow during the fist Fight. I'd better have a look at the boy.'

‘May I look first?' Ellery asked quickly. ‘If you don't mind?'

Before anyone could answer, he jumped up and went into the living room.

John was seated stiffly in a chair. Rusty sat at his feet, talking to him carefully. She flashed a grateful glance at Ellery as he came in.

‘Imagine, Ellery,' Rusty said in a bright tone. ‘John doesn't recall a thing about that summerhouse business yesterday. He doesn't even remember being there. Isn't that amusing?'

‘I don't know why everyone's making such a fuss,' John said irritably. ‘All right, I forgot. Is that a crime?'

‘We've all been under a strain the past few days,' Ellery said, ‘and the old bean can play us queer tricks sometimes, John. Like that backstairs episode Thursday night.'

‘Backstairs?' Rusty repeated apprehensively.

‘I don't care to discuss it!' John sprang from the chair, almost upsetting her.

‘But darling, you know you've been having headaches –'

‘Hangovers!'

‘Look, John,' Ellery said, ‘as long as Dr. Dark's a house guest, anyway –'

‘I'm all right, I tell you!' And John rushed out of the living room and vaulted up the stairs.

The others immediately trooped in through the swinging door from the dining room. Rusty seemed about to burst into tears. Craig patted her helplessly.

‘I don't understand it,' he kept saying. ‘Sam, I'd better go up to him alone –'

‘Nonsense, Arthur,' Dr. Dark said. ‘I've explored him inside and out since he was a twerp in kneepants. We'll go up together.'

‘I don't think,' Ellery said softly, ‘that will be necessary.'

For John was running back down the stairs. The lines of worry and peevishness had smoothed away. He was smiling as he strode back into the room.

‘I must have given you people a scare,' he said. ‘Rusty baby, I'm terribly sorry. Of course I remember now. It just came back to me. Did I sound awfully obtuse? And Marius, you don't have to apologize. It's no disgrace being in love with Rusty – I am myself! Forget it.'

For once Marius was at a loss for words.

‘John Sebastian,' Rusty said firmly. ‘You tell me this one thing: When Sergeant Devoe went into the summerhouse to stop you and Marius from Fighting, how did he go about it? What exactly did he do to you?'

John grinned. ‘He clamped those meathooks of his on the backs of our necks and hauled us out into the snow as if we were a couple of squabbling kittens.' He rubbed his nape ruefully. ‘I'm still sore.'

‘You do remember!' Rusty flung herself at him. ‘Oh, darling, you had me so frightened …'

Everyone began to talk at once.

Ellery slipped out of the room. He shut the door of his host's library, sat down at the extension phone, and put in a person-to-person call to Inspector Richard Queen at New York City police headquarters.

‘Dad. Ellery. Look, do me a favour?'

‘Hold it,' the Inspector said. ‘What goes on up there?'

A bit impatiently, Ellery told him.

‘Sounds mad,' his father said. ‘I'm glad I'm out of this one. Or am I?'

‘All I want you to do is get some information for me. Rusty Brown, John Sebastian's fiancée, designed a number of Christmas gifts for everybody here and John distributed them Christmas morning. Each one was in the design of a different sign of the zodiac –'

‘Sign of the what?'

‘
Zodiac
.'

‘Oh,' the Inspector said.

‘– and they were all made up by Moylan's, the Fifth Avenue jewellers, on special order. Eight of the pieces were money clips, four brooches. Will you question Moylan's about them?'

‘In person, I suppose.'

That won't be necessary. Send Velie down, or Hesse or Piggott or somebody.'

‘Do you know, my son, you have no sense of humour?'

‘What?'

‘It's not important,' the Inspector said. ‘What sort of questions are to be asked? Or do we make them up as we go along?'

‘I don't really know. I'm playing a hunch, dad. A really wild one out of left field. Just get Moylan's to tell you all about the transaction. Especially if there was anything unusual about it. Understand?'

‘Nope,' his father said, ‘but who am I to grasp the finagling of genius? I suppose this is to be a confidential inquiry? No leaks?'

‘That's right.'

The Inspector sighed and hung up.

Lieutenant Luria dropped in during the early afternoon.

‘No,' he said to their questions, ‘no luck yet in identifying the dead man. We're beginning to send his photo out of state. How have you all been getting on? I hear, Mr. Sebastian, you're still getting your nightly gifts.'

‘Do you understand Greek, Lieutenant?' John asked.

‘You mean like “
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes
”?' Luria grinned.

‘That's Latin, but I guess you get the idea.'

‘I don't blame you. See here, folks,' the lieutenant raised his voice, ‘you've been awfully cooperative about staying put, it's a nice day – how would you all like a couple of hours' skating? I don't imagine anyone's going to run out on me.' He laughed. ‘I noticed some people whizzing around the ice on Alderwood Pond coming up here, and they told me the skating's good today.'

The girls were delighted. Even Dr. Dark allowed himself to be persuaded, although only on condition that they get him back to the house in time to tune in the Army-Stanford game. The younger people had brought skates, and Arthur Craig thought that between John's old storeroom of discarded athletic equipment and the resources of a neighbour with a large family, he could manage to supply those who had none. They all hurried upstairs to change into warm clothing.

‘Aren't you going, Queen?' Lieutenant Luria asked.

‘I've had a bellyful of skating since the days when I read
Hans Brinker
.' Ellery lit his pipe and sat back. ‘Nothing from the lab, Lieutenant?'

‘Not a thing.' Luria stared at him. Ellery stared back. ‘All right, I suppose I can't force you. But don't tip my hand, will you?'

‘You are gazing upon what the Bard called a veritable “pigeon-egg of discretion”. How about fingerprints?'

‘No strange prints in the library but the dead man's.'

‘The dagger?'

‘Some prints of Mr. Craig's, but they're old and smudged. The killer wore gloves.'

‘'Twas ever thus,
nicht wahr
?
'

Before the party left, Ellen said to Ellery, ‘I might have known you'd be different. You staying home to make sure the police don't steal anything?'

‘Something like that,' Ellery smiled. ‘Well, toodle-oo. And let's hope everyone stays off the thin ice.'

Ellen sniffed. ‘Really, Mr. Q., you're not half as clever as you think you are.' And off she went, linking arms with Marius Carlo and Dr. Sam Dark as if they were the two most desirable males in the universe.

As soon as the party had driven off in the Craig and Freeman cars, Lieutenant Luria went into the kitchen. ‘All right, ladies, put on some warm duds. You're going for a ride.'

‘Are we, now,' Mabel said, dimpling.

‘You are. You're entitled to some fresh air, too. That includes you, Felton. Sergeant Devoe will take you for a spin.'

‘That's awful nice of you and the Sergeant,' Mrs. Janssen beamed. ‘But what about me dinner?'

‘You'll have plenty of time. The football broadcast doesn't even start till nearly five o'clock.'

Luria waited until the police car drove from the grounds. Then he went into the living room.

Ellery took the pipe from his mouth and said, ‘Santa?'

‘The hell with Santa,' Luria said. ‘Now shut up and let me earn my pay.'

He took the cushions off the chairs. He probed furniture, opened drawers, rifled cabinets. He poked up the chimney. He removed the back of the Stromberg-Carlson. He explored the Christmas tree, not neglecting to peer under the red crepe paper apron draping the stand. He went over the walls inch by inch, looked under pictures, tapped, rapped, thumped. He tested the floor, shifted rugs. He took the living room apart and put it together again.

He repeated the process in the library, music room, dining room, butler's pantry, kitchen and hall.

Ellery tagged after him, smoking peaceably. When Luria had completed his inspection, Ellery said, ‘Mind if I ask what you're looking for?'

Luria said cryptically, ‘Nothing – I hope,' and added, ‘Nothing personal, Queen, but I'd like to search you.'

‘Search me?' Ellery grinned. ‘A pleasure.'

He raised his arms high while the lieutenant made rapid passes over his body.

‘Now would you stick to me like a brother?'

It was almost 4.30. Luria went back to the living room, Ellery at his heels, and took a comfortable chair.

‘Let 'em come,' the lieutenant said, and he lit a cigarette and blew an enigmatic puff.

The ice-skating party returned first, at a few minutes past the half hour, chattering in good spirits. Luria met them at the front door, blocking it.

Craig was surprised. ‘You still here, Lieutenant?'

‘I'm afraid you're going to have to put up with me for quite a while yet, sir.'

The bearded man's soft rumble took on an edge. ‘What is it this time?'

‘I'll explain later. For now, would you all be good enough to do exactly as I say? I assume you'll want to get out of these clothes, freshen up or whatnot. Please go directly to your rooms. Whenever you're ready, come downstairs. Use these front stairs.' He stepped back. ‘All right.'