The Four of Hearts (17 page)

‘I direct also that my just debts be paid, also the expenses of my funeral.

‘The residue of my estate I leave to be divided as follows: One-half (½) to go to my only child and daughter, Blythe, or in the event that she pre-deceases me, to her heirs The other half (½) to go to my granddaughter Bonita, Blythe's daughter, or in the event that Bonnie pre-deceases me, to Bonnie's heirs.'

Except for an additional short paragraph in which the junior vice-president of the bank where the will had been drawn up and witnessed was named executor of the estate, there was nothing more.

Ellery replaced the document in its green box, shut the drawer, and stole out of the house.

As he stepped on to the landing-field he spied the stubby aeroplane which he had seen Sunday night in the nearby hangar. It was gliding down to a landing. It taxied to a stop beside the commercial plane which had flown Ellery and Bonnie up into the mountains. Dr. Junius jumped to the ground, looking like an elderly condor in the helmet which flapped about his ears.

He waved to Bonnie, who was waiting in the other plane, and hurried forward to greet Ellery.

‘Paying us a visit, I see,' he said companionably. ‘I would be out shopping! What's happening on the Hollywood front?'

‘It's all quiet.' Ellery paused. ‘We've just had the honour of an interview with your worthy benefactor.'

‘Since your skin is still whole,' smiled the doctor, ‘it can't have been so terrifying.' Then he said in quite a different tone: ‘Did you say “benefactor”?'

‘Why, yes,' murmured Ellery. ‘Isn't he?'

‘I don't know what you mean.' The doctor's bright eyes retreated into their yellow sockets.

‘Oh, come, doctor.'

‘No. Really.'

‘Don't tell me you're unaware that the old crank has set aside a little something for your old age!'

Dr. Junius threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, that!' The laugh turned bitter. ‘Of course I'm aware of it. Why do you think I've buried myself up here?'

‘I thought,' said Ellery drily, ‘there must be a sound reason.'

‘I assume he told you.'

‘Mmm.'

‘I'm not so sure,' said Dr. Junius, shrugging, ‘that I got the better of the bargain. It's cheap at a hundred thousand, dirt cheap. Living with that old pirate and putting up with his tantrums and whims for ten years is worth closer to a million, even at a conservative estimate.'

‘How did he ever come to make such an odd arrangement with you, Doctor?'

‘When we met he'd just been given a rather thorough going-over by a pair of quack “specialists” who'd got hold of him and were milking him for thousands in fees. They told him he had cancer of the stomach, scared him into believing he had only a year or two at the most to live.'

‘You mean a deliberately false diagnosis?'

‘I imagine so. I suppose they were afraid the sacred cow would stop giving milk sooner or later and thought they'd get much more out of him by concentrating their “services” over a short period than by trying to pander to his hypochondria over a longer one. Anyway, someone recommended me to him, and I examined him and found he merely had ulcers. I told him so, and the quacks discreetly vanished.'

‘But I still don't see –'

‘I told you you don't know Tolland Stuart,' said the doctor grimly. ‘He was suspicious of them, but he couldn't get it out of his mind that perhaps there
was
a cancer in his stomach. My insistence that he hadn't, and that I could cure his ulcers very easily – he was in perfectly sound condition otherwise – gave him an idea. He remembered what the quacks had said about his having only a year or so to live. So, in view of my confidence, he engaged me to keep him alive for a minimum of ten years – he liked my honesty, he said, and if I kept him in reasonably good health five times longer than the other men had claimed he would live, I was entitled to a large fee.'

‘The Chinese system. You collect during the good health of your patient.'

‘Good health!' snorted Dr. Junius. ‘The man's as sound as a nut. It took me only a short time to heal the ulcers, and he hasn't had so much as a cold since.'

‘But all those medicines and pills by his bed –'

‘Coloured water and sugar-coated anodynes. It's a disgusting but essential therapy. I haven't used a legitimate drug from my little pharmacy in there in eight years. I've got to treat him for his imaginary ailments or he'd kick me out of the house.'

‘And then you wouldn't collect your hundred thousand when he dies.'

The doctor threw up his hands. ‘When he dies! As far as I can tell, he'll live to be ninety. The chances are all in favour of his surviving me, and I'll get for my long years of martyrdom up here just two lines in an obituary column.'

‘But isn't he paying you a yearly retainer besides?'

‘Oh, yes, quite handsome.' The doctor shrugged. ‘But unfortunately I haven't any of it. I'd go crazy if I didn't sneak down into L.A. once in a while. When I do, it's only to lose money at roulette, or at the race-track – I've dropped some in the stock market …'

‘Not Alessandro's?' said Ellery suddenly.

The doctor scowled at the jagged skyline. ‘Did you ever want something very badly?'

‘Often.'

‘I recognized early in my career that I wouldn't make a go of medicine. Haven't the proper temperament. What I've always wanted more than anything else, and couldn't have for lack of money, was leisure.'

‘Leisure? To what purpose?'

‘Writing! I've got a story to tell the world. Lots of stories!' He tapped his breast. ‘They're locked up in here, and they won't come free until my mind is relieved of financial worry and I've got time and a sense of security.'

‘But up here –'

‘What about up here?' demanded Junius fiercely. ‘Security? Time? I'm a prisoner. I'm on my feet from morning to night, catering to that old fool, cooking for him, wiping his nose, running his errands, cleaning his house … No, Mr. Queen, I can't write up here. All I can do up here is run my feet off and hope he'll break his neck some day while he's out rabbit-hunting.'

‘At least,' murmured Ellery, ‘you're frank.'

The doctor looked frightened. He said hastily: ‘Goodbye,' and plodded off towards the tree-masked house.

‘Goodbye,' said Ellery soberly, and he climbed into the waiting plane.

CHAPTER 16

MR. QUEEN, RAT

Ellery was sitting at his kitchenette table Saturday morning clad in pyjamas and robe and giving his divided attention simultaneously to a sooty slab of toast, the morning paper announcing the latest developments, which were nil, in the Royle-Stuart case, and a paper-backed book entitled
Fortune Telling by Cards
, when his telephone rang.

‘Queen!' Ty's voice was eager. ‘What did she say?'

‘What did who say?'

‘Bonnie. Did you fix it up for me?'

‘Oh, Bonnie.' Ellery thought furiously. ‘Well, now, Ty, I've got bad news for you.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘She won't believe a word of it. She's still convinced your father wrote those notes to her mother.'

‘But she can't!' howled Ty. ‘It's not reasonable. Didn't you tell her about that mailing company and the rest of it?'

‘Oh, certainly,' lied Ellery. ‘But you can't expect reasonableness from a woman, Ty; a man of your experience ought to know that. Why don't you give Bonnie up as a hopeless job?'

Ty was silent; Ellery could almost see him grinding his teeth together and sticking out his lean jaw. ‘I couldn't be mistaken,' said Ty at last, in a sort of stubborn despair. ‘She gave herself to me too completely. She loves me. I know she does.'

‘Pshaw, the girl's an actress. Every woman has something of the mime in her, but when it's also her profession –'

‘Since when do you know so much about women? I tell you she
wasn't
acting!'

‘Look, Ty,' said Ellery with simulated impatience, ‘I'm a sorely harassed man, and I'm not at my best at this hour of the morning. You asked me, and I told you.'

‘I've kissed too many girls in my time,' muttered Ty, ‘not to recognize the real thing when it's dished out to me.'

‘Thus spake Casanova,' sighed Ellery. ‘I still think you ought to take a vacation. Hop an Eastern plane. A whirl around Broadway's hot spots will get Bonnie out of your system.'

‘I don't want her out of my system! Damn it, if it's that bad I'll face the music in person. I should have done it in the first place.'

‘Wait,' said Ellery, alarmed. ‘Don't go looking for trouble, Ty.'

‘I know if I talk to her, take her in my arms again –'

‘Do you want a knife in your back when you do? She's been receiving letters again.'

‘More?' said Ty incredulously. ‘But I thought we bagged the whole batch in that mailing office!'

‘She showed me one that came yesterday. Addressed to her.'

‘To
her?'

‘Yes, and with the seven of spades enclosed. “An Enemy.”'

‘But if it was mailed Thursday night – and we know it couldn't have come from the fellow Lucey's office – why, that
proves
dad couldn't have sent it!'

Ellery said desperately: ‘Oh, she knows your father couldn't have mailed this one. It's worse. She thinks
you
sent it.'

‘I?' Ty sounded dazed.

‘Yes, she's convinced now the whole series of card messages has been inspired by the Royle family. The ones to Blythe by your father and now this one, apparently the first of a fresh series, by you.'

‘But that's … why, that's mad! By me? Does she actually think
I
…'

‘I told you she was past reasoning with. You'll never rehabilitate this affair, Ty. Stop wasting your time.'

‘But she mustn't think I'm hounding her! I ought to be able to do something to convince her –'

‘Don't you know that the only truly inert material in the universe is an idea rooted in a woman's skull? The winds do blow, but to no avail. I don't want to seem to be changing the subject, but do you own a typewriter?'

‘What?' mumbled Ty.

‘I said: Do you own a typewriter?'

‘Why, yes. But –'

‘Where is it?'

‘In my dressing-room on the lot.'

‘Where are you going now?'

‘To see Bonnie.'

‘Ty.' Ellery winced at his own perfidy. ‘Don't. Take my advice. You may be … in danger.'

‘Danger? What do you mean?'

‘You understand English perfectly well.'

‘Look here,' said Ty sharply, ‘are you trying to tell me that Bonnie would … You're joking, or crazy.'

‘Will you do me one favour? Don't talk to Bonnie until I tell you it's safe to.'

‘But I don't understand, Queen!'

‘You've got to promise.'

‘But –'

‘I can't explain now. Have I your word?'

Ty was silent. Then he said wearily: ‘Oh, very well,' and hung up.

Ellery did likewise, swabbing his moist brow. A close shave. Raw apprentice himself in the laboratory of love, he was just beginning to discover what powerful magnetic properties the grand passion possessed. Damn that stubborn kid! At the same time, far and deep inside, Mr. Queen felt a great, consuming shame. Of all the black tricks he had ever played in the interests of ultimate truth, this was certainly the blackest!

Sighing, he plodded towards his kitchenette for a further perusal of the book on fortune telling and a Star Chamber session with his own dark thoughts.

The doorbell rang.

Absently he turned about and went to the door and opened it.

And there stood Bonnie.

‘Bonnie! Well, well. Come in.'

Bonnie was radiant. She flew by, hurled herself on his sofa, and looked up at him with dancing eyes.

‘What a lovely day! Isn't it? And that's the most fetching robe you're wearing, Mr. Queen. And I've just been followed by that same closed black car, and I don't care – whoever it is – and oh, the most wonderful thing's happened!'

Ellery closed the door slowly. What now?

Nevertheless, he managed to smile. ‘There's one pleasant feature of this case, anyway – it's thrown me into daily contact with one of the loveliest damsels of our time.'

‘One of the happiest,' laughed Bonnie. ‘And are you trying to seduce me with that moustachioed old technique? Oh, I feel so chipper it's indecent!' She bounced up and down on the sofa like a gleeful little girl. ‘Aren't you going to ask me what it is?'

‘What what is?'

‘The wonderful thing that's happened?'

‘Well,' said Ellery, without elation, ‘what is it?'

She opened her bag. Ellery studied her. Her pixie features were ravaged to a degree that neither her present gaiety nor the art of make-up as taught by its most celebrated impresarios could conceal. There were grey hollows in her cheeks and her eyes were underscored by violet shadows. She looked like a sufferer from a serious ailment who has just been informed by her physician that she would live and get well.

She took an envelope out of her bag and offered it to him. He took it, frowning; why should the receipt of another warning note have this extraordinary effect on her spirits? Apprehension ruffled his spine as he removed the enclosed card. It was a four of spades.

He stared at it gloomily. So that was it. If he recalled the code sheet correctly …

‘You needn't go looking for the yellow sheet,' said Bonnie gaily. ‘I know all those meanings by heart. The four of spades means: “Have Nothing More to Do with a Certain Person about Whom You Are Doubtful.” Isn't it scrumptious?'

Ellery sat down opposite her, scrutinizing the envelope.

‘You don't look pleased,' said Bonnie. ‘I can't imagine why.'

‘Perhaps,' muttered Ellery, ‘it's because I don't understand in what way it's so scrumptious.'

Bonnie's eyes widened. ‘But it says: “Have Nothing More to Do with a Certain Person about Whom You Are Doubtful.” Don't you see?' she said happily. ‘And I thought Ty sent that card yesterday!'

Bonnie; Bonnie. Ellery felt savage. First Ty, now Bonnie. Only the meanest man in the world would even attempt to wipe that blissful look from her drawn face, the first expression of pure happiness it had exhibited in the century-long week of doubts and torments and sorrow and death.

And yet, it had to be done. It was vitally important to wipe that look off her face. For an instant Ellery toyed with the notion to tell Bonnie the truth. That would stop her, if he gauged her character accurately. But then she wouldn't be able to keep it from Ty. And if Ty knew …

He steeled himself. ‘I don't see why you're so cheerful,' he said, injecting a sneer into his voice.

Bonnie stared. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You said you thought Ty sent that card yesterday. Apparently you don't think so any more. What's made you change your mind?'

‘Why, this card – the one you're holding!'

‘I fail,' said Ellery coldly, ‘to follow your reasoning.'

Her smile faded. ‘You mean you don't see –' She tossed her head. ‘You're teasing me. There's only one person in this world I could have been, and was, doubtful about. That was Ty.'

‘What of it?'

‘No matter who sent this card, its meaning is plain – it warns me not to have anything more to do with Ty. Don't you see?' she cried, her cheeks pink again. ‘Don't you see that that clears Ty – that he couldn't have sent it?
Would he warn me against himself
if he were behind all this?' She paused triumphantly.

‘He would under certain circumstances.'

The smile flickered and went out for good. She lowered her gaze and began to pick aimlessly at the handle of her bag.

‘I suppose,' she said in a small voice, ‘you know what you're talking about. I'm – I'm not much at this sort of thing. It just seemed to me that …'

‘He's been terribly clever,' said Ellery in a flat tone. ‘He knows you suspect him, and therefore he's sent you the one message to dispel your suspicions. As it did.'

He rose, suddenly unable to endure the sight of her steady picking at the bag. At the same time he became conscious that she had raised her eyes again and was looking at him with a queer directness – a sad, sharp, questioning look that made him feel he had committed a great crime.

‘You really believe that?' murmured Bonnie.

Ellery snapped: ‘Wait for me. I'll prove it.' He went into his bedroom, shut the door, and quickly began to dress. Because it made things easier, he kept his mind blank.

Bonnie drove him to the Magna Studios, and when she had parked her roadster in the studio garage he said: ‘Where's Ty's dressing-room?'

‘Oh,' she said.

And without another word she led him to the little tree-shaded street of the stone bungalows and up the three steps to a door with Ty's name on it. The door was unlocked, and they went in.

A standard-sized typewriter stood on a table beside a chair. Bonnie was perfectly motionless at the door. Ellery went to the typewriter, took a sheet of clean paper from his pocket, and rapidly typed a few lines.

Then he returned to Bonnie with the sheet, pulling out of his pocket the envelope which she had just received.

‘Open and shut,' he said tonelessly. ‘Here, Bonnie, compare these specimens. Notice the b's and d's and t's? Broken type.' He did not mention that, like the h's and r's on John Royle's portable, the imperfect keys on Ty's machine had been freshly – and obviously – filed to make them so. ‘Also
élite
, which is unusual for a non-portable typewriter.'

Bonnie moved then and looked not at the paper specimens, but directly at the keys. She poked the b and examined the key, and the d, and the t. And then she said: ‘I see.'

‘Little doubt about it. This envelope and the one that came yesterday were both addressed on this machine.'

‘How did you know?' she asked, looking at him with that same queer, questioning gaze.

‘It seemed likely.'

‘Then there ought to be a carbon copy of the yellow code sheet, too. It wouldn't be complete without that.'

‘Clever girl.' Ellery rummaged through the table drawer. ‘And here it is, too! Looks like a third or fourth carbon.' He offered it for her inspection, but she kept looking at him.

‘What are you going to do?' Bonnie's voice was chill. ‘Expose Ty to Inspector Glücke?'

‘No, no, that would be premature,' said Ellery hastily. ‘No real evidence for a prosecutor.' She said nothing. ‘Bonnie, don't say anything about this to anyone. And keep away from Ty. Do you hear?'

‘I hear,' said Bonnie.

‘As far away as you can.' Bonnie opened the door. ‘Where are you going now?' Bonnie did not answer. ‘Be careful!' She looked at him, once, a long hard look that had in its depths a gleam of – that was strange – fright.

Her stride lengthened. Half a block away she was running.

Ellery watched her with grim eyes. When she vanished round a corner he closed the door and sank into the chair.

‘I wonder,' he thought miserably, ‘what the penalty is for murdering love.'