“He may be in one of those booths . . . No.”
“The back room . . . ”
“Let’s sit down.”
They sat down at the nearest table, and the bartender came over, yawning. ”What’U it be, folks?”
“Cuba Libre,” said Pat, nervously looking around.
“Scotch.”
“Uh-huh.” The bartender strolled back to his bar.
“Wait here,” said Ellery. He got up and made for the rear, like a man looking for something.
“It’s over that way,” said the man with the mop, pointing to a door marked he.
But Ellery pushed against a partly open red-and-gold door with a heavy brass lock. It swung noiselessly.
The room beyond was a gambling room. In a chair at the empty roulette table sprawled Jim Haight, his head on one arm on the table. A burly man with a cold cigar stub in his teeth stood half turned away from Ellery at a telephone on the far wall.
“Yeah. I said Mrs. Haight, stoopid.” The man had luxuriant black brows which almost met and a gray flabby face. ”Tell her Vic Carlatti.”
“Stoopid” would be Alberta. Ellery stood still against the red-and-gold door.
“Mrs. Haight? This is Mr. Carlatti of the Hot Spot,” said the proprietor in a genial bass. ”Yeah . . . No, I ain’t making no mistake, Mrs. Haight. It’s about Mr. Haight . . . Now wait a minute. He’s settin’ in my back room right now, cockeyed . . . I mean drunk . . . Now don’t get bothered, Mrs. Haight. Your old man’s okay. Just had a couple of shots too many and passed out. What’111 do with the body?”
“Just a moment,” said Ellery pleasantly.
Carlatti slewed his big head around. He looked Ellery up and down. ”Hold on a second, Mrs. Haight . . . Yeah? What can I do you for?”
“You can let me talk to Mrs. Haight,” said Ellery, crossing over and taking the phone from the man’s furry hands. ”Nora? This is Ellery Smith.”
“Ellery!” Nora was frantic. ”What’s the matter with Jim? How is he? How did you happen to¯”
“Don’t be excited, Nora. Pat and I were driving past Carlatti’s place, and we noticed Jim’s car parked outside. We’re in here now, and Jim’s all right. Just had a little too much to drink.”
“I’ll drive right down¯the station wagon¯”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind. Pat and I will have him home in half an hour. Don’t worry, do you hear?”
“Thank you,” whispered Nora, and hung up.
Ellery turned from the telephone to find Pat bending over Jim, shaking him. ”Jim. Jim!”
“It’s no use, girlfriend,” growled Carlatti. ”He’s carrying a real load.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting him tight!”
“Now don’t get tough, babe. He came in here under his own steam. I got a license to sell liquor. He wants to buy, he can buy. Get him outa here.”
“How did you know who he was? How did you know whom to call?” Pat was fizzing with indignation.
“He’s been here before; and besides, I frisked him. And don’t gimme that fishy eye. Come on, pig. Blow!”
Pat gasped.
“Excuse me,” said Ellery. He walked past Carlatti as if the big man were not there, and then suddenly he turned and stepped hard on Carlatti’s bulldog toe. The man bellowed with pain and reached swiftly for his back pocket. Ellery set the heel of his right hand against Carlatti’s chin and pushed. Carlatti’s head snapped back; and as he staggered, Ellery punched him in the belly with the other hand. Carlatti groaned and sank to the floor, clutching his middle with both hands and staring up, surprised.
“Miss Pig to you,” said Ellery. He yanked Jim out of his chair and got him in a fireman’s grip. Pat picked up Jim’s crushed hat and ran to hold the door open.
* * *
Ellery took the wheel going back.
In the open car, with the wind striking his face and Pat shaking him, Jim began to revive. He goggled glassily at them.
“Jim, whatever made you do a silly thing like this?”
“Huh?” gurgled Jim, closing his eyes again.
“In midafternoon, when you should be at the bank!”
Jim sank lower in the seat, muttering.
“Stupefied,” said Ellery. There was a deep cleft between brows. His rear-vision mirror told him a car was overtaking them rapidly¯Carter Bradford’s car.
Pat noticed and turned. And turned back, very quickly.
Ellery slowed down to let Bradford pass. But Bradford did not pass. He slowed down alongside and honked his horn. A lean gray Yankee with a red face and jellyfish eyes sat beside him.
Obediently, Ellery pulled up at the side of the road; and Bradford stopped his car, too.
Pat said: “Why, hel/o, Cart,” in a surprised voice. ”And Mr. Dakin! Ellery, this is Chief Dakin of the Wrightsville police. Mr. Ellery Smith.”
Chief Dakin said: “How do, Mr. Smith,” in a polite voice, and Ellery nodded.
“Anything wrong?” asked Carter Bradford, a little awkwardly. ”I noticed Jim here was¯”
“Well, that’s extremely efficient, Cart,” said Pat warmly. ”Practically Scotland Yardish, or at the very least F.B.I. Isn’t it, Ellery? The Public Prosecutor and the Chief of Police¯”
“There’s nothing wrong, Bradford,” said Ellery.
“Nothing that a bicarbonate of soda and a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” said Chief Dakin dryly. ”Carlatti’s?”
“Something like that,” said Ellery. ”Now if you don’t mind, gentlemen, Mr. Haight needs his bed¯badly.”
“Anything I can do, Pat . . . ” Cart was flushed. ”Matter of fact, I was thinking of calling you up¯”
“You were thinking of calling me up.”
“I mean¯”
Jim stirred between Pat and Ellery, mumbling.
Pat said severely: “Jim, how do you feel?”
He opened his eyes again. They were still glassy, but something behind the glaze made Pat look at Ellery with a swift fear.
“Say, he’s in a bad way, at that,” said Dakin.
“Relax, now, Jim,” soothed Ellery. ”Go to sleep.”
Jim looked from Pat to Ellery to the men in the other car, but he did not recognize any of them. The mumble became intelligible: “Wife my wife damn her oh damn wife . . . ”
“Jim!” cried Pat. ”Ellery, get him home!”
Ellery released his hand brake quickly. But Jim was not to be repressed. He pulled himself up and his cheeks, pale from sickness, grew scarlet.
“Rid of her!” he shouted. ”Wait’n’ see! I’ll get rid of the bas’ard! I’ll kill ‘a bas’ard!”
Chief Dakin blinked, and Carter Bradford looked immensely surprised and opened his mouth to say something.
But Pat pulled Jim down savagely, and Ellery shot the convertible forward, leaving Bradford’s car behind. Jim began to sob, and in the middle of a sob he suddenly fell asleep again.
Pat shrank as far from him as she could. ”Did you hear what he said, Ellery? Did you?”
“He’s crazy blind.” Ellery stepped hard on the gas pedal.
“It’s true, then,” moaned Pat. ”The letters¯Rosemary . . . Ellery, I tell you Rosemary and Jim have been putting on an act! They’re in cahoots to¯to¯And Cart and Chief Dakin heard him!”
“Pat”¯Ellery kept his eyes on the road¯”I haven’t wanted to ask you this before, but . . . Has Nora any considerable sum of money, or property, in her own right?”
Pat moistened her lips very slowly. ”Oh . . . no. It couldn’t be . . . that.”
“Then she has.”
“Yes,” Pat whispered. ”By my grandfather’s will. Pop’s father. Nora automatically inherited a lot of money when she married, held in trust for her if and when. Grandfather Wright died soon after Lola eloped with that actor¯he’d cut Lola off because of that and divided his estate between Nora and me. I get half when I marry, too¯”