Inspector Queen’s Own Case

The elderly man with the scar stirred some sugar into his coffee, talking to the coffee as if it had ears. “I ducked out onto the roof and shot a flash across the court to the other side. Nobody. I beat it down the stairs into the basement and got over to the other street through the back court. Lots of people walking, kids horsing, plenty of traffic moving in both directions. Nobody running, nobody pulling away from the kerb, nobody acting like anything had happened. And as far as I could see, not an empty parking space. I talked to the kids, but they hadn’t noticed anybody come out of the house. I knew it was a waste of time, but I checked the stairs, elevators, basement, and roof over there. The roof is absolutely clean. The way I figure it, he cut across the roofs of several buildings and came out near the corner of West End — maybe had a getaway parked there. Anyway, it was a bust.”

“You, Johnny?” Inspector Queen said.

The other elderly man looked like a teacher or a librarian, Jessie thought, with his black-rimmed glasses and distinguished white hair. “I drove around to 89th when you ran outside with the news, Inspector. By the time I got there it was either too early or too late, I didn’t know which. I hung around for a few minutes with nothing to latch onto. Then a car pulled away from the kerb fast, and I tailed it. It turned out to be some college kid late for a date.”

“It’s the legs,” Giffin said gloomily to his coffee. “Let’s face it, we’re not as spry as we used to be.”

“We needed more men is all.” Johnny Kripps breathed on his glasses. “Hell, I’m not even packing a gun.”

“Who was it?” Jessie thought. To her surprise, the thought was audible.

The men glanced at her curiously.

“Take it easy, Jessie,” the old man said. “As a matter of fact, boys, I’m not getting you in any deeper.” He sipped some coffee and looked at them. “I want you to go home and forget it.”

They laughed. Giffin said, “We haven’t met the lady, Inspector.”

“I beg your pardon. Miss Sherwood, John Kripps, Hugh Giffin.”

“How do you do,” Jessie said. “He shot her between the eyes as if she were something in a shooting gallery. Then he fired two more shots. It couldn’t have been at her, she was flat on the floor. He shot at us, Richard.”

“I know, Jessie,” he said gently. His hand came to her under the table. “I want you boys to go home, and one of you phone Pete Angelo and Al Murphy and tell them to forget it, too.”

“How about a little something to go with that coffee, Miss Sherwood?” Hugh Giffin asked.

“Maybe a nice cheese Danish?” Johnny Kripps said. “They’re tops in here.”

“About this deal,” the Inspector said insistently. “I appreciate your attitude, boys. But this is murder. I can’t let you endanger your pensions, maybe wind up in jail. Jessie and I,” his hand tightened, “we’re in so far now we couldn’t get out if we wanted to. But you—”

“You’re wasting your breath,” Kripps said. “I’m talking for Pete and Murph, too. Who takes care of the call-in?”

“I will!” the old man said.

“The hell you will,” Giffin said hotly. “Your voice is too well known, Inspector. Johnny or I’ll do it.”

“Call-in?” Jessie said.

“Notifying the police, Miss Sherwood,” the ex-homicide man explained. He did, look like a scholar. “We can’t let her lie on that floor till the super’s nose brings him up there.”

“An anonymous call?” Jessie said.

The three men flushed and picked up their cups.

Jessie picked up her cup, too. She remembered now that she hadn’t touched it.

He took the key from her cold fingers. He unlocked the apartment door and shoved it open and reached for the switch and ducked all in one movement. Then he stood there looking. After a moment he went into Jessie’s bedroom.

He came back.

“All right.”

He shut the apartment door and latched it.

“Why am I so cold?” Jessie shivered. “Did the temperature drop?”

He felt her forehead, her hand.

“It’s the nervous reaction,” Richard Queen said. “I used to break out in a sweat afterward, even in the dead of winter. You’re going to bed, young woman.”

“I’m not a young woman,” Jessie said, standing there trying to keep her teeth from clacking. “I’m an old woman and I’m scared.”

“I could kick myself for letting you in for this.” He took her purse and gloves, clumsily removed her hat. “I’d send you back to Connecticut tomorrow—”

“I won’t go.”

“—only I want you where I can keep an eye on you. For all he knows, she told us his name.”

“He shot at us,” Jessie said. “A bullet hit something behind me and broke it. He doesn’t take chances, does he?”

“He’s taking all kinds of chances,” the old man said gently. “But we’ll talk about it tomorrow. You go in there and get undressed. Do you have any phenobarb?”

“What are you going to do, Richard?” Now her teeth were clacking.

“Stay over.”