But Rubin waved excitedly. "I've got it. I've got it. Listen to this: Isaiah, Chapter 51, Verse 9: Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord; awake, as in the ancient days, in the generations of old. Art thou not it
that hath cut Rahab and wounded the dragon? You see, 'cut Rahab' and 'wounded the dragon' is another example of parallelism. Rahab and the dragon are alternate expressions that symbolize the raging ocean that has to be defeated and split before dry land can be formed. Some commentators maintain this refers to Egypt and the division of the Red Sea, but in my opinion it is certainly a version of the fight with Tiamat."
There was perspiration on Rubin's forehead and he kept waving his left hand for silence, even while his right hand continued to turn pages. "There are references to it in the Psalms, too. I can find them if you'll give me a minute. Ah! Psalm 89, Verses 9 and 10: Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, thou stillest them. Thou hast broken Rahab in pieces, as one that is slain. And then another one, Psalm 74, Verses 13 and 14: Thou didst divide the sea by thy strength: thou bra-kest the heads of the dragons in the waters. Thou brakest the heads of leviathan in pieces. Leviathan was another name for the primeval ocean."
Trumbull shouted, "God damn it, Manny. You're not a revivalist preacher any more. Where's this all getting us?"
Rubin looked up indignantly and closed the Bible. "If you'll let me talk, Tom," he said, with exaggerated dignity, "and curb your impulse to bellow, I'll tell you."
He looked about impressively. "I now suspect that to the fellow who wrote this note, Rahab meant the raging power of the sea. Now what is the raging power of the sea today? Who controls the sea? The United States does. With our aircraft carriers, our nuclear submarines, our Polaris missiles, we have the power of Rahab. I think maybe he's after Miss United States."
"Is that so?" said Halsted. "The United States has been the predominant sea power only since World War II. It hasn't had time to enter legend. It's Great Britain that's the ruler of the sea in song and story. 'Britannia rules the waves.' I vote for Miss Great Britain."
Gordon interposed. "There's no Miss Great Britain. There's a Miss England, though."
"All right. I vote for Miss England."
Drake said, "There's no way of getting into this nut's head. Maybe he was just using the name to indicate his method of operation. Rubin said 'brakest the head' and 'broken in pieces' when he read those verses. Maybe the writer meant he was going to use a blunt instrument."
Rubin shook his head. "In one of the verses it was 'cut Rahab.' "
Gonzalo said, "If Rahab is an arch opponent of God, the writer might be thinking of the Nazis. Jeff said the writer might be Jewish and after Miss Egypt; why not after Miss Germany?"
Trumbull said, "Why does the writer have to be Jewish? Most Fundamentalists are Protestants and they've had some neat terms in their time for the Pope. He was the 'Whore of Babylon' to some of them and Rahab was a harlot. I don't suppose there's a Miss Vatican City, but how about Miss Italy?"
Henry said, "I beg your pardon, gentlemen."
Gordon looked up. "Ah, you have a suggestion, Henry?"
"Yes, I have, sir. Whether it's useful or not, I don't know… You said, Mr. Gordon, that the rules are rather flexible in the Miss Earth contest as far as the nations represented are concerned. Some nations have no representatives, some have two or more under different names. You mentioned a Miss Germany and a Miss Bavaria, for instance."
"That's right," said Gordon.
"And you said there was no Miss Great Britain, but that there was a Miss England."
"Right again," said Gordon.
"Does the Miss England imply the presence of a Miss Scotland as well?"
"It does, as a matter of fact." Gordon's eyes narrowed. "And a Miss Ireland and Miss Northern Ireland as well."
Gonzalo brought both hands before him down on the table. "I'll bet I know what Henry is driving at. If the writer of the note is Irish, he may be after Miss Northern Ireland. He would consider her as representing a political division that's a puppet of England, and England rules the waves and is Rahab."
Henry shook his head. "It's not as complicated as that, I think. I have always thought that all things being equal, the simplest explanation is best."
"Occam's razor," muttered Avalon.
"I must admit," said Henry, "I never heard of Rahab before, but Mr. Rubin's explanation was quite enlightening. If Rahab is a monster representing the sea, and if the monster is also called leviathan, and if leviathan is sometimes used as a name for an actual sea monster, and the largest that lives, why might not the writer be referring to Miss Wales?"
"Ah," said Gordon.
Henry turned to him. "Was that the answer, Mr. Gordon?"
Gordon said gravely, "It's a possibility."
"No, Mr. Gordon," said Henry. "You know better than that. You came here to test me. How can you test me with a puzzle to which you don't know the answer?"
Gordon broke into a laugh. "You win again, Henry," he said. "Everything I told you is true enough, but it happened last year. The person in question was caught. He had a knife in his hand, but he wasn't really dangerous. He surrendered quietly and he's in a mental hospital now. He was quite incoherent. We could never be sure what his motive was except that he was sure his victim was particularly wicked.
"The trouble was," Gordon went on, "we had to stake out a lot of men and we never did find out what Rahab meant… But when we caught him he was making his way into the dressing room of Miss Wales. We should have had you last year, Henry. You're a remarkable detective."
"The Black Widowers are. They explore the problem; I only pick up what's left," said Henry.
This story first appeared in the September 1973 issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, under the title "A Warning to Miss Earth," which I simply don't like. Back to "Miss What?"
I don't always remember the exact genesis of a particular story, but I remember this one. Mrs. Anita Summer, who works with the Leonard Lyons column on the New York Post, and who is a science fiction reader, invited me to come with her to a cocktail party being given for the contestants for the Miss Universe award.
Well, of course, I was delighted to go and I wandered from contestant to contestant in a happy daze. Anita, pleased at my artless delight, said, "Are you going to write a story about this, Isaac?"
And I said, "All right." And I did. So this story, "Miss What?", is dedicated to Anita Summer.
9. The Lullab y of Broadwa y
For the first time in the history of the Black Widowers, the monthly banquet was being given in a private apartment. Emmanuel Rubin had insisted and his straggly straw-colored beard had waggled strenuously as he argued it out in parliamentary fashion.
He was going to be the next host, he said, and the host was an absolute monarch within the wording of the bylaws and nowhere in the bylaws was the place of meeting specifically fixed.
"According to tradition," began Geoffrey Avalon with the kind of solemnity that befitted his profession as patent lawyer, "we have always met right here."
"If tradition is the master," said Rubin, "why the bylaws?"
And in the end he had had his way, carrying it finally when he pointed out that he was a gourmet cook and Mario Gonzalo had grinned and said, "Let's go and smell him burn the hamburgers."
"I do not serve hamburgers," said Rubin body, but by that time everyone had conceded the point.
So Avalon and James Drake, who had both come in from across the Hudson on the same train, stood in the lobby of Rubin's West Side apartment house and waited for the doorman to pay attention to them. It was quite clear that they could not get in without the doorman's permission by anything short' of violence.