Inspector Queen’s Own Case

He made it easy for her. “You mean if you felt differently about the cause of his death?”

“Yes, Mr. Humffrey.”

The four whole fingers drummed on the desk, their maimed companion curled tightly. Then he leaned back in his leather chair.

“You still don’t agree it was an accident, Miss Sherwood.”

“It was murder,” Jessie said. “That baby was deliberately and wickedly smothered to death with the pillow in the pillowcase that’s disappeared.”

“But no pillowcase has disappeared.”

“Oh, yes, it has. They just haven’t found it.”

“My dear Miss Sherwood.” His tone was patient. “The case has been thoroughly investigated. The coroner’s jury brought in a verdict of accidental death. The police are satisfied it was an accident, and so am I. How can you set yourself up as the sole dissenting judge?”

“I saw the pillow with the handprint, Mr. Humffrey,” Jessie said quietly. “No one else did.”

“Obviously you were mistaken.”

“I was not mistaken.”

“There’s not a scintilla of evidence — I believe that’s the approved phrase — to back your opinion up.”

“It’s not an opinion, Mr. Humffrey. It’s a fact. I know what I saw.”

“Show me one competent person who agrees with you—”

“Richard Queen.”

Humffrey arched his sparse brows. “Who?”

“Chief Pearl’s friend. He used to be an inspector in the New York police department. He believes me.”

The millionaire shrugged. “These old fellows have nothing to do but poke their noses into other people’s affairs. He was probably retired for senility.”

“He’s only sixty-three, and he’s in complete possession of his faculties, I assure you!” Jessie bit her lip; Humffrey was regarding her with amusement. “Anyway, Inspector Queen agrees with me it was murder, and we’re going to—”

Jessie stopped.

“Yes?” Alton Humffrey no longer looked amused. “You and this man are going to what, Miss Sherwood?”

“Nothing.” Jessie jumped up nervously. “I’ll have to be getting back to Mrs. Humffrey—”

“Miss Sherwood.” He had his hands flat on the desk. For a moment Jessie had the queerest feeling that he was going to spring at her. She remembered having had the same feeling about him once before. “Do you suppose for an instant that if I thought the child was murdered I’d let the case drop?”

“I’m sure I can’t answer that, Mr. Humffrey.” She was actually backing away. When she realized it, she stopped herself. “Please, I must go to Mrs. Humffrey. But I do wish you’d tear up this check and make out another simply for the amount you owe me.”

But his eyes kept bulging and burning. “Don’t you know what that baby meant to me, Miss Sherwood?”

“I’m sure he meant everything to you,” Jessie said desperately. “But... you force me to say this... now that little Michael’s dead you want the whole thing buried, along with his remains. You’d rather see the case written off as an accidental death than involve your family name in a murder case. I don’t understand people like you, Mr. Humffrey. There are some things in this world a lot worse than getting your name bandied about by the common people. Letting a baby killer get off scot free is one of them.”

“Are you finished?” Alton Humffrey said.

“Yes,” Jessie whispered.

“No, wait, Miss Sherwood. Before you go.”

Jessie turned at the door, praying for escape.

“You know my wife’s condition.” The nasal tones dripped venom. “I don’t know what it is you and this man Queen are up to, but if through any act of yours my wife gets worse or my name is exposed to further public humiliation, you will account to me. To me. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly.” Jessie’s throat was dry. “May I go now, Mr. Humffrey?”

“By all means.”

She fled those unwinking pop-eyes, fixed on her like something in a museum.

Ten minutes later Jessie was on the phone, crying. “Richard, please ask Mrs. Pearl if I can come over tonight. I don’t care where I stay. I’ll sleep in my car or bed down on the floor. Anywhere! But I won’t stay in this house another night.”

Inspector Queen was waiting for her on the other side of the causeway in Beck Pearl’s Plymouth. He got out, waving wildly, as Jessie pulled up.

“Jessie! You all right?”

“Oh, Richard, I’m so glad to see you.”

“But what happened?”

“Nothing, really. Mr. Humffrey’s sent his wife to a sanitarium and discharged me, and I’m afraid I let on that you and I weren’t going to let the case drop, and he sort of threatened me—”

“He did, did he?” the old man said grimly.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking of me. I’ve never acted this way before in my life. Mrs. Pearl must be having visions of some hysterical female throwing fits all over her rug—”

“You don’t know Beck Pearl.”

“I’d go back home — I have a little house in Rowayton — but I rented it to some summer people till after Labor Day. I’m so ashamed, Richard. I’ll go to a motel or some place for the night—”

“Becky says if I don’t bring you right over I don’t have to come back myself. You follow me, Jessie!”