Inspector Queen’s Own Case

“You’d think I’d had a picnic this weekend,” the guard grumbled, unbending. “You know how many cars came through here last night? And then they want me to remember who went in and out!”

“That’s a shame,” Jessie said sympathetically. “With all that outbound traffic, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d simply left the gate open all night.”

“That’s what I did, Miss Sherwood.”

“Even at two in the morning, I suppose.”

“Sure. Why not? How was I to know?”

“Well, of course. And by that time you must have been darn tired. Were you sitting in the gatehouse, resting?”

“I’ll say!”

“So of course you didn’t see the car that drove in some time after midnight and left around 2 a.m.”

Peterson scowled. “I saw the back of it.”

Jessie drew a long breath in the perfumed moonlight. “I’ll bet it was a car you knew, and that’s why you didn’t stop him.”

“Something like that. I didn’t see his face, but him and the car looked familiar.”

“What kind of car was it, Mr. Peterson?”

“Foreign job. A Jaguar.”

“I see.” Jessie’s heart was beating faster.

“Like the one run by Mr. Humffrey’s nephew — what’s-his-name — Mr. Frost. Matter of fact,” the guard said, “I thought it was Frost. He’d been off and on the Island all weekend.”

“Oh, then you’re not sure.”

The guard said uncomfortably, “I can’t swear to it.”

“Well.” Jessie smiled at him. “Don’t you worry about it, Mr. Peterson. I’m sure you do your job as well as anyone could expect.”

“You can say that again!”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Miss Sherwood,” Peterson said warmly.

He went back into the gatehouse, and Jessie began to retrace her steps, frowning.

“Nice going,” a man’s voice said.

Jessie’s heart flopped. But then she saw who it was.

“Mr. Queen,” she cried. “What are you doing here?”

He was in the roadway before her, spare and neat in a Palm Beach suit, looking amused.

“Same thing you are, only I beat you to it. Playing detective, Miss Sherwood?” He chuckled and took her arm. “Suppose I walk you back.”

Jessie nodded a little stiffly, and they began to stroll along beside high fieldstone walls clothed in ivy and rambler roses, with the moon like a cheddar cheese overhead and the salty sweet air in their nostrils. How long is it, she wondered, since I last took a moonlight stroll with a man holding my arm? The last one had been Clem, on leave before shipping out...

The old man said suddenly, “Did you suspect Ron Frost all along?”

“Why are you so interested?” Jessie murmured.

“Let’s say I don’t like cases involving nursery windows.” He sounded gruff. “And if I can lend a hand to Abe Pearl...”

Some tireless patriot out at sea sent up a Roman candle. They stopped to watch the burst and drip of fireballs. For a few seconds the Island brightened. Then the darkness closed in again.

She felt his restless movement. It was like a dash of cold sea.

“I’d better be getting back,” Jessie said matter-of-factly, and they walked on. “About your question, Mr. Queen. I suppose I shouldn’t be saying this while I’m taking the Humffreys’ money, but I like threats to babies even less than you do. Ronald Frost quarreled with Mr. Humffrey over Michael yesterday.” And she told him what she had overheard from the nursery.

“So Frost expected to be his uncle’s heir, and now he figures the baby’s queered his act,” Richard Queen said thoughtfully. “And Frost was tanked up when he left, you say?”

“Well, he’d had quite a bit to drink.”

“He was nursing a beaut of a hangover this morning, and there was an empty bourbon bottle on his bureau. So he must have worked himself up to a real charge by late last night. Could be...”

“You saw him?” Jessie exclaimed.

“I dropped over to his place in Old Greenwich. Sort of as a favor to Abe Pearl.”

“What did Frost say? Tell me!”

“He said he came straight home last night and went to bed. He lives alone, so no one saw him. In other words, no alibi.”

“But did he actually deny having driven back here?”

“Would you expect him to admit it?” She knew he was smiling in the darkness. “Anyway, he’s had a good scare — I’ll guarantee that. If Frost was the man who tried to climb in through that window, I don’t think he’ll try it again.”

“But what could he have been thinking of?” Jessie shivered.

“Drunks don’t make much sense.”

“You think... ransom? He told Mr. Humffrey he was badly in debt.”

“I don’t think anything,” the Inspector said. “Whoever it was wore gloves — there wasn’t an unaccounted-for print anywhere in the nursery or shed, and smudges were evident on the ladder. We have nothing on Frost but a questionable identification by Peterson. Even if we had, I doubt if Mr. Humffrey would press a charge, from the way he talked to Abe Pearl on the phone today. The best thing for you to do is forget last night ever happened, young lady.”

“Thank you.” Jessie felt herself dimpling, and it made her add tartly, “Young lady!”

He seemed surprised. “But you are young. Some people never age. My mother was one of them. You’re very much like her—” He stopped. Then he said, “This is it, isn’t it? It’s so blasted dark—”