“Oh, yes!”
“Besides being fed, washed, and amused,” said Ellery, “the boy will need massages, I understand, and care of that sort. Do you think you could handle it, Celeste?”
“I did exactly that kind of nursing for Simone, and Simone’s doctor often told me I was better than a lot of trained nurses he knew.”
The Queens looked at each other, and the Inspector waved.
“Tomorrow morning, Celeste,” said Ellery crisply, “you’ll be taken to see Dr. Ulberson. He knows you’re not a working practical nurse and that your presence in the Soames household is required for a highly secret purpose not connected with the ostensible one. Dr. Ulberson’s been very tough — we had to get a high official of the City to give him personal reassurances that this is all in the interests of the Soames family. Just the same, he’s going to test you unmercifully.”
“I know how to move patients in bed, give hypos — I’ll satisfy him, I know I will.”
“Just turn on some of that charm,” growled Jimmy. “The kind you befogged me with.”
“I’ll do it on merit, McKell!”
“I have a hunch you will,” said Ellery. “By the way, you’d better not use your real name, even with Dr. Ulberson.”
“How about McKell?” sneered McKell. “In fact, how about changing your name to McKell and to hell with this lady-dick opium dream?”
“One more crack out of you, McKell,” snapped the Inspector, “and I’ll personally escort you to the door on the end of my foot!”
“Okay, if you’re going to be that selfish,” muttered Jimmy; and he curled up on the sofa like an indignant sloth.
Celeste took his hand. “My real family name is Martin, pronounced the French way, but I could use it as just plain English-sounding Martin—”
“Perfect.”
“—and then Mother Phillips used to call me Suzanne. It’s my middle name. Even Simone called me Sue sometimes.”
“Sue Martin. All right, use that. If you satisfy Dr. Ulberson, he’ll recommend you to Mr. and Mrs. Soames as a live-in nurse and you can go right to work. You will charge, of course, the prevailing practical nurse fee, whatever it happens to be. We’ll find that out for you.”
“Yes, Mr. Queen.”
“Stand up a minute, Miss Phillips,” said Inspector Queen.
Celeste was surprised. “Yes?”
The Inspector looked her up and down.
Then he walked around her.
“At this point,” said Jimmy, “they usually whistle.”
“That’s the trouble,” rasped the Inspector. “Miss Phillips, I suggest you deglamorize yourself. Meaning no disrespect to the highly important profession of practical nursing, if you look like a practical nurse I look like Olivia de Havilland.”
“Yes, Inspector,” said Celeste, blushing.
“No makeup except a little lipstick. And not too vivid.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Simplify your hairdo. Take off your nail polish and clip your nails. And wear your plainest clothes. You’ve got to make yourself look older and more — more tired-looking.”
“Yes, sir,” said Celeste.
“Do you have a white uniform?”
“No—”
“We’ll get you a couple. And some white stockings. How about low-heeled white shoes?”
“I have a pair that will do, Inspector.”
“You’ll also need a practical nurse’s bag, equipped, which we’ll provide.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How about a pearlhandled heater?” suggested Jimmy. “No eye-ette genuine without one.”
But when they ignored him he got up and went to the Scotch decanter.
“Now as to this detective business,” said Ellery. “Aside from nursing the Soames boy, you’re to keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Marilyn Soames operates her stenographic business from home — she does manuscript typing and that sort of thing; that’s why she has a phone in her name. Marilyn’s working at home is another break; it will give you an opportunity to get friendly with her. She’s only two years your junior and, from the little we’ve been able to learn so far, a nice, serious-minded girl.”
“Gads,” said Jimmy from the cellaret. “You have just described Operative 29-B.” But he was beginning to sound proud.
“She seldom goes out socially, she’s interested in books — very much your type, Celeste, even physically. Best of all, she’s mad about her kid brother, the sick boy, so you’ll have something in common right off.”
“You’re to pay particular attention to phone calls,” said the Inspector.
“Yes, find out the substance of every conversation, especially if the caller is a stranger to the Soameses.”
“And that goes whether the call is for Marilyn or anyone else.”
“I understand, Inspector.”
“You’ll have to manage to read every letter Marilyn gets, too,” Ellery said. “The whole family’s mail, if possible. In general, you’re to observe everything that happens in the household and to report it to us in detail. I want daily reports as a matter of routine.”
“Do I report by phone? That might be hard.”
“You’re not to use the phone there except in an emergency. We’ll arrange meeting places in the neighborhood of East 29th and First and Second Avenues. A different spot each night.”
“Me, too,” said Jimmy.
“At a certain time each night after Stanley’s gone to sleep — you’ll have to set the time for us after you get in and find out more about the setup — you’ll go out for a walk. Establish the habit the very first night, so that the family comes to take your nightly absences as matter of course. If something should come up to prevent your leaving the house at the agreed time, we’ll wait at the meeting place till you can get away, even if it means waiting all night.”
“Me, too,” said Jimmy.
“Any questions?”
Celeste pondered. “I can’t think of any.”
Ellery looked at her rather nakedly, Jimmy thought. “I can’t stress too much how important you may be in this thing, Celeste. Of course, the break may come from outside and you won’t be involved at all, which is what we’re all hoping. But if it doesn’t, you’re our Trojan filly. Everything may then depend on you.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Celeste in a smallish voice.
“By the way, how do you feel about this?”
“Just... fine.”
“We’ll go over all this again in greater detail after you’ve seen Dr. Ulberson tomorrow.” Ellery put an arm around her. “You’ll stay here tonight as we arranged.”
And Jimmy McKell snarled, “Me, too!”
10
Celeste would have felt better about having to play female Janus in the Soames household if she had found Marilyn’s father a burly lecher, Mrs. Soames a shrew, Marilyn a slut, and the youngsters a pack of street rats. But the Soameses turned out insidiously nice.
Frank Pellman Soames was a skinny, squeezed-dry-looking man with the softest, burriest voice. He was a senior clerk at the main post office on Eighth Avenue at 33rd Street and he took his postal responsibilities as solemnly as if he had been called to office by the President himself. Otherwise he was inclined to make little jokes. He invariably brought something home with him after work — a candy bar, a bag of salted peanuts, a few sticks of bubble gum — to be divided among the three younger children with Rhadamanthine exactitude. Occasionally he brought Marilyn a single rosebud done up in green tissue paper. One night he showed up with a giant charlotte russe, enshrined in a cardboard box, for his wife. Mrs. Soames was appalled at his extravagance and said she just wouldn’t eat it, it would be too selfish, but her husband said something to her in a sly sotto voce and she blushed. Celeste saw her put the little carton carefully away in the ice chest. Marilyn said that in charlotte russe season her parents always got “whispery.” Next morning, when Celeste went to the chest for milk for Stanley’s breakfast, she noticed that the box was gone.