“How was he tonight?”
“Fine. Practically cheerful. Martha was waiting up for us when we got in. He kissed her, asked how her day had been, we all had a nightcap, they went to bed as if nothing had happened, and here I am — and I ask you, Mr. Anthony: Where am I?”
“Did he give you any dictation today on this alleged mystery idea?”
“Yes, notes on a plot. Interesting ones, too. What’s my ethical position? After all, you’re competitors.”
“Did he — or you — tell Martha anything about the day’s activities?”
“He did. She went pale, but I don’t think he noticed. I managed to talk to her for a couple of minutes in the bathroom before she went to bed. She confirmed the fact that it’s his old Army pistol. He hasn’t touched it for years, Martha said. She’s frightened, Ellery.”
“I’d be, too. How good a shot is he?”
“I thought he was Deadeye Dick, but he said he’s rusty and his ‘tests’ weren’t ‘conclusive’ and wouldn’t be till he got back his old marksmanship. It seems he was a crack shot in the Army. We’re going out to the gun club again tomorrow.”
Ellery was silent. Then he said, “Just how determined are you on staying, Nikki?”
“Ellery, how can I leave now? Anyway, maybe it’s just what he says. Maybe that’s all it is.”
“Yes.” There was another silence. “If you feel you’ve got to stick it out, Nikki,” he said at last, “don’t let him out of your sight. Force him along this new mystery line, whether he wants to follow it up or not. Maybe you can channelize this gun thing off harmlessly. And call me every chance you get.”
Ellery was still walking the floor of his study when Inspector Queen turned his alarm off.
“You up at six A.M.?” yawned the Inspector. Then he inhaled. “The millennium! You’ve already made the coffee.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Do me a favor this morning. Check up on a pistol permit.”
“Whose?”
“Dirk Lawrence.”
“That fellow?” The Inspector glanced sharply at Ellery, but Ellery’s face told nothing. “I’ll call you from downtown.” The Inspector waited, but Ellery said not another word, and the old gentleman left.
Ellery was awakened by his father’s call.
“He has one.”
“When was it issued?”
“Last week. Shouldn’t it have been? After all, he’s a friend of yours.” Inspector Queen sounded sarcastic.
“I don’t know,” said Ellery.
“Think it ought to be revoked?” When Ellery did not reply, the Inspector said, “Ellery, you there?”
“I was just thinking,” said Ellery. “If a man is bent on securing possession of a gun, the fact that his license has been revoked isn’t going to stop him. And there’s no nourishment in jailing a man for using a gun without a license after he’s used it. No, Dad, let it ride.”
For three days Nikki accompanied Dirk Lawrence to the Westchester gun club, developing a bulky notebook and a slight case of deafness in both ears. Dirk’s behavior toward Martha was impeccable, and Martha, reported Nikki, seemed content with small favors. She was very bright and gay when they saw her. The Alex Conn play was in its last week, and she was busy reading manuscripts. At the theater, she explained. She didn’t want to drag her work into Dirk’s working quarters; the apartment was too small.
“Sounds good,” said Ellery.
“It sounds better than it looks,” replied Nikki with grimness. “After all, Martha’s had training as an actress. But she can’t fool me. Her shoulders are developing a permanent hunch. She’s waiting for that next blow to fall.”
The next blow fell from an unexpected direction, and it struck an unexpected target. For a few days Nikki transcribed her notes and organized them. There was no return to the gun club and the Army automatic vanished. Then, after the weekend, Dirk began visiting the New York Public Library at 42nd Street to read up on background for his story. He spent most of Monday and Tuesday away from home. Late on Tuesday afternoon Nikki dropped in to the Queen apartment.
Ellery was shocked. She was haggard; her eyes were wild.
“Nikki, what’s the matter?”
“How can you tell?” Nikki laughed hollowly. “Dirk’s still at the library and Martha’s due home any minute. I can’t stay long... Ellery, I did something today I’ve never done in my life. I deliberately eavesdropped on a telephone conversation.”
“Dirk?”
“Martha.”
“Martha?”
“It was this morning,” said Nikki, leaning back. “I was up early — I’ve suffered stupidly from insomnia lately — and I’d just taken my coffee and toast into the study to start typing Dirk’s library notes of yesterday when the phone rang. Charlotte — the maid who comes in every day — hadn’t got there yet, and Dirk and Martha were still asleep, so I answered. I said hello, and a man’s voice said, ‘Good morning, Martha darling.’”
Nikki opened her eyes and looked at Ellery as if she expected a suitable response.
But Ellery said irritably, “What am I supposed to do, phone for the reserves? There must be a hundred men who call Martha darling. I do myself. Who was he?”
Nikki’s head rolled. “Give me credit for some sense, Ellery. This wasn’t an ordinary, garden-variety darling. This was a darling of a different hue. Rose-colored, if you know what I mean.”
“Sorry,” said Ellery wearily. “Go on.”
“I explained that I wasn’t Martha, that Martha was still in bed, and that if he’d leave his number I’d have Martha call back when she woke up. He said never mind, he’d call back himself, and he hung up. And there were no roses in his voice any more when he said it.”
“It could have a dozen explanations—”
“Wait. Martha got up about twenty minutes later; I was watching for her. I made sure Dirk was still asleep, then I shut the kitchen door and told her a man had called who wouldn’t leave his name and who’d said he was going to call back.
“She went white. When I asked her what was the matter she said it was just nerves, she didn’t want to set Dirk off on one of his jealousy tantrums again. She said she thought she knew who it was — some agent who’d been pestering her about a playscript — and that she’d call him back while Dirk was asleep.
“I knew she was lying from the way she waited for me to leave the kitchen before making the call — they have an extension in every room. So I went back to the study, closed the door, and very carefully lifted the receiver on the desk and listened in.”
Nikki stopped to moisten her lips.
Ellery said tenderly, “Oh, for the life of a spy. And what did you overhear?”
“The same man’s voice answered. Martha said in a low voice, ‘Did you call me just now?’ and he said, ‘Of course, sweetheart.’ Martha told him he shouldn’t have phoned, she’d begged him never to phone her apartment. There was absolute terror in her voice, Ellery. She was almost hysterical with fear that Dirk might wake up and listen in. The man kept soothing her, calling her ‘dearest’ and ‘darling,’ and he promised that ‘from now on’ he’d write, not phone.”
“Write?” said Ellery. “Write?”
“That’s what he said. Martha hung up in such a hurry she dropped the phone — I heard the bang.”
“Write,” muttered Ellery. “I don’t get that at all. Unless he is an agent, and Martha was telling the truth.”
“If he’s an agent,” said Nikki, “I’m a soubrette.”
“His name wasn’t mentioned?”