“Don’t be a goop.” He kissed first the tip of her nose, then the dimple in her chin, and finally the bow of her lips. “Be seeing you, funny-face.” He strode out.
“Ellery! Come—”
She heard the slam of the front door.
Kerrie sat slowly down on one of the beds. Her brain ached. Blank. Void. Nothing. No thinking. Just sit. Or get up and do something. But don’t think—
Flowers.
Of course! That’s what had been bothering him! He’d forgotten to buy her flowers. He’d felt ashamed of himself. That made him act uncomfortable, and his uneasiness had communicated itself to her, and all the rest was her own imagining... He’d gone downstairs to buy her some. He’d probably be back with boxes of flowers and buckets of champagne, and they’d have a tête-à-tête supper high over the city... Mr. and Mrs. Ellery Queen, in love and sitting on top of the world!
She flung herself backward on the bed and stretched luxuriously, yawning and smiling. But it was a yawn of excitement, not sleepiness.
Kerrie undressed quickly, washed in icy cold water, recombed her hair, made up again, and then put on a different dress — the one with the wide red leather belt and the peasant blouse with blue stripes that flattered her eyes so, and heightened her complexion.
It was still early. Perhaps they’d take a walk on Broadway after supper, before returning to the hotel. She’d wear the little straight-brimmed straw with the coque feather...
She unpacked her bags. Her dresses were so wrinkled. But they’d hang out in the closet by morning. As she draped them on hangers she suddenly thought that he didn’t have a bag at all. It had happened so quickly — their running away, their marriage...
She flushed and finished unpacking, stowing her powders and finishing creams and deodorants and perfumes and toilet waters in the bathroom cabinet. Not on the vanity. Women ought to keep the machinery of beauty hidden — especially married women. And he wouldn’t see her — ever — with her face creamed up and her hair in an unsightly tight net. She’d always be fresh-looking... make him wonder...
Silly. Childish. She wasn’t really herself. What difference did it make? If he loved her. They said it did make a difference. She didn’t really believe that. Never had. Then why these absurd defensive thoughts? Was it because, deep down, she wasn’t absolutely certain he loved her?
When she was unpacked, and all her things had been laid away, and her most beautiful nightgown lay at the foot of one of the twin beds, with her nicest mules, Kerrie realized that it was almost eleven o’clock. He’d been gone over two hours!
She lit a cigaret and sat down in the sitting room by one of the open windows, frowning. After a moment, she took up the telephone.
“This is Mrs. Queen,” said Kerrie, thrilling despite herself to the shape of the name on her lips. “Has there been a call, or a message, for me in the past hour, from Mr. Queen?”
“No, Madam.”
“Thank you.”
She replaced the receiver softly and stared out the window.
The short lace curtains were fluttering in a breeze. Outside, there was a U-shaped court. Their two rooms lay along the right side of the U. The windows on the opposite side were dark. But the room nearest Kerrie’s window on the connecting wall of the court was illuminated. The outer wall of that room and of Kerrie’s sitting room met in one of the right angles of the court; the adjacent windows of the two rooms were only eight feet apart along the hypotenuse of vision.
Some one was in that room, Kerrie thought idly; the window was open and she could see on the drawn blind the formless shadow of some one crossing the room.
But then the light went out, and after an instant Kerrie noticed the blind flutter.
No use fooling herself longer. He hadn’t gone for flowers. He could have bought a whole greenhouse in the time he’d been away. He was up to something else. But what could it be? That made sense? Oh, she could cheerfully strangle him!
But perhaps he was hurt. Perhaps he had gone down for flowers, or to arrange for a surprise blow-out, and had been struck by a cab, or had slipped and broken his leg, or... or—
No. That couldn’t be it. She’d know if that had happened. Even if nobody notified her, she’d know. It wasn’t that kind of accident. It wasn’t any accident. He had gone away; he was staying away deliberately.
The truth was that he had proposed to her, rushed her to a crummy Justice of the Peace, married her like a... like a Saturday night binge, driven her secretly into New York for a “honeymoon,” parked her in a hotel room as if she were a piece of... of luggage, and disappeared.
Kerrie caught up the lace curtains on both sides so that the night air might cool her hot face.
Vi... She could call Vi.
No. She’d rather die than do that. Not tonight. Not tonight. Not if she had to sit here by this window like a dressed-up dummy all night, alone!...
At midnight Kerrie telephoned the hotel desk. There was no message. She had known there would be none. But it was something to do.
She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and rinse her mouth; it felt dry and tasted bitter.
As she was coming out of the bathroom there was a knock on the door.
Her heart jumped. He was back! What difference did it make why he had gone away, or where he had been, or to see whom? He was back!
She ran to the sitting-room door and pulled it open.
Margo Cole smiled at her across the threshold.
“May I come in?”
Kerrie said: “Go away.”
“Now is that nice, Mrs. Queen? Surely you wouldn’t keep me out in the passage?”
“Go away, or I’ll have the hotel people put you out!”
Margo crossed the threshold and gently closed the door behind her.
“I don’t believe you’d fancy a scene just now.”
“What do you want?”
“Are you really married?”
“Yes! Will you go now, please?”
“As soon as I’ve said my little piece.”
“If you don’t go,” cried Kerrie, “I’ll call my — my husband!”
“Do that,” smiled Margo.
They faced each other in a keen, hostile silence.
Then Kerrie said: “You knew,” in a shocked, faint voice.
“Of course I knew, darling! And since the groom isn’t here, I thought I’d console the bride.”
“Where is he?” whispered Kerrie.
Margo walked past her, stalking about the room, staring insolently at the stylized furniture, the cheap prints on the walls, the tinny decorations.
“How did you know he left me? How did you know we were in New York? How did you know we were at this hotel?”
“It was all arranged, my dear,” drawled Margo.
Kerrie went over to the armchair by the window and sat down, fumbling for another cigaret.
“I suppose,” she said calmly, “this is another of your little jokes.” The room was whirling.
“Poor dear,” sighed her cousin. “So brave. Such a good show. Just the same, darling, you’re an ass! You actually married him. I didn’t think even you would be ass enough to do that. But his plan worked!”
Kerrie choked over the smoke and flung her cigaret out the window. “His — plan?”
“Oh, you didn’t know that. Such a pity. Why, yes, dear, it was. Do you recall last night? After your little accident in the garage? When he found you and took you to your room? He remained with you all night — he’s so very clever. But this morning, when your doctor came, your husband-to-be came to see... me.”