Inspector Queen’s Own Case

In the plain sanity of the Pearls’ little beach cottage Jessie felt safe for the first time in weeks. Mrs. Pearl looked into her eyes and smiled approvingly at Richard Queen, and Chief Pearl blundered about making her feel as if she were an honored guest.

“You’re not really an ogre after all, Mr. Pearl,” Jessie told him. “Do you know I was afraid of you?”

The big man glanced guiltily at his wife.

“Did he bully you?” Beck Pearl looked at her husband.

“I’ll get your bag out of your car, Miss Sherwood.” Abe Pearl went out hurriedly.

“Put it up in Richard’s room, Abe!”

“Mrs. Pearl, I won’t hear of it—”

“You’ll have Richard’s room, Abe and Richard will sleep in our room, and I’ll take the daybed down here. It’s the most comfortable bed in the house.”

“Oh, no—”

“That’s the way it’s going to be,” Mrs. Pearl said firmly. “Now I’m going to fix you and Richard some supper. Then Abe and I are going to the movies...”

When the Pearls were gone, Jessie said softly, “You’re lucky to have such friends, Richard.”

“You like them.”

“They’re absolute darlings.”

“I’m glad,” he said simply. “Now you tackle this casserole, or Becky will feel terrible. Abe says she can do more things with clams than a Siwash Indian.”

Afterward, Jessie washed the dishes in Beck Pearl’s tiny kitchen and Richard Queen dried them and put them away, while he told her about his summer with the Pearls and never once referred to what had brought her flying to him. Jessie listened mistily. I mustn’t feel so happy about this, she kept thinking. I’ll just build myself up to another letdown, the way I did with Clem... It was hard to keep from comparing them, hard and unfair. It had been so many years ago. Clem had been so much younger — tall and self-sufficient, with quick surgeon’s fingers and his eyes always tired-looking. Thinking about him even now, when he had been dead such a long time, Jessie felt her pulse quicken... This, this was so different. Working over a kitchen sink and drainboard side by side. She couldn’t visualize herself doing that with Clem. Clem had meant excitement, a life of high spots and crises, and long stretches of loneliness. This quiet man, with his fine-boned face and gray brush of mustache, his reserve of strength and knowledge about ordinary people — it was hard to think of anything they couldn’t do together, the everyday little things that made up a life. And she could be very proud of him, she knew that instinctively. Proud and complete... I mustn’t let myself run on this way! Jessie thought despairingly.

“You’re tired,” Richard Queen said, looking at her. “I think, Jessie, I’m going to send you to bed.”

“Oh, no,” Jessie cried. “I’m enjoying this so much. I want to tell you everything that’s happened in the past few days, Richard. Please.”

“All right. But just for a few minutes. Then up you go.”

He put the dish towel over the towel bar to dry, and they went into the little living room. He sat her down in the most comfortable chair, lit her cigarettete for her, and listened noncommittally while she told him about Sarah Humffrey’s suicide attempt and the substance of her conversation with Alton Humffrey. He made no comment beyond, “He’s a queer duck, all right,” and then he said, “Time’s up, Miss Sherwood.”

“But aren’t we going to talk about your plans?”

“Not tonight.”

“Then how about mine?”

He laughed. “I’ve made six-foot police sergeants shake in my time, but I guess I’ll never learn how to handle a woman. All right, Jessie, shoot.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t!” Jessie said, piqued.

“I’m not flattered,” he said dryly. “I didn’t do it. It’s Alton Humffrey who’s made up your mind.”

“Well, it’s true I don’t like to be threatened,” Jessie said, pinching her skirt down, “but that’s not the only reason.”

“The baby.”

“And other reasons.”

The old man looked at her searchingly. “It might not be a picnic, Jessie.” He got up suddenly and began to walk about. “In fact, I’m wondering if I haven’t let you in for something risky out of plain selfishness. This is a very peculiar case. Why was the baby murdered? While Frost was a suspect, with his inheritance motive, it made some sort of crazy sense. With Frost eliminated, the Humffrey fortune doesn’t seem to be involved. So the motive must lie in a different direction. Do you see a lead, Jessie?”

“I’ve thought about it, too,” Jessie said quietly. “The only thing I can think of is that it must be connected with Michael’s adoption.”

“Ah,” the Inspector said, and he sat down again, eagerly. “You saw that. Where does it take you, Jessie?”

“It may have something to do with the real parents. You know, Richard, neither side knows who the other side is. The whole adoption was handled by a lawyer acting for both sides.”

He nodded. “A lawyer named A. Burt Finner. That was his name, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”