Inspector Queen’s Own Case

“You mean when Elizabeth said Sarah Humffrey had been spirited away? I thought I’d die.”

“No, I mean you and me.” He was very red. “Pretending to be engaged.”

Jessie stared straight ahead at the traffic. “I didn’t see anything funny about it,” she said coldly. “I thought it was nice.”

“Well...”

Yes? Jessie thought. Yes?

But when he spoke again, it was to explain the plan he had worked out.

“It’s that one over there, Jessie,” Richard Queen said.

It was Wednesday evening, the 28th of September.

Jessie turned the coupé into the Pearl driveway and switched off her ignition. It was a spready old white clapboard house covered with wisteria and honeysuckle vines on a peaceful side street in Taugus. Great maples shaded the lawns, and on the old-fashioned open porch there were two rockers and a slide-swing.

He got out of the car, handling a large square flat package as if it contained eggs.

But Jessie was looking at the house. “What a lovely place for two people to live out their lives together.”

“It’s too big for two people, Abe says.”

“I’ll bet that’s not what Mrs. Pearl says.”

“You’d win,” he chuckled. “Becky’s children were born in this house, and to her that makes it holy. When Abe bought the beach shack, he had to fight to get her to go out there during the summer months. She isn’t really happy till they close it up in September and come back here.”

“She’s lucky.”

“So is Abe.” He added, “In more ways than one.”

Jessie sighed and got out. They went up on the porch, Richard Queen carrying the package carefully.

The door opened before he could ring the bell. “Richard, Jessie.” Beck Pearl embraced them enthusiastically. “Let me look at you two! Abe, they’re positively blooming. Did you ever see such a change in two people?”

“Well, get out of the way and let them come in,” Abe Pearl grumbled. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me go to the door till they came up on the porch—”

His wife’s glance withered him. “Let me have your things, Jessie. I can’t imagine why Abe didn’t insist on your coming for dinner. He’s so stupid about some things!”

She carted Jessie off, and Abe Pearl took his friend into the living room.

“I thought you’d never get here. What held you up, Dick?”

“Daylight.” The Inspector laid his package gently on the mahogany refectory table. “Mind if I pull the blinds?”

“You’re acting damn mysterious. What’s up?” The Taugus chief kept eying the package.

“Let’s wait for the women.” He drew all the shades down to the sills. Then he went back to the table and stood there.

The women came in chattering. But when Beck Pearl saw the old man’s face she stopped talking and sat down in a corner. Jessie took a chair near her and folded her hands in her lap.

Inspector Queen glanced over at his friend’s wife. “Is your girl in the house, Becky?”

“Florrie? No, she goes home nights.”

“Then we’re alone?”

“Yes,” Abe Pearl growled. “For the love of Mike, Dick, what’s this all about?”

“Abe, what would you say if I told you we’ve finally got the goods on Alton Humffrey?”

The Taugus policeman looked from him to the package.

“In that thing?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s back in my lap.” The big man came slowly to the table. “Let’s have a look.”

The Inspector undid the twine and removed the heavy wrappings with loving care.

Then he stepped back.

Abe Pearl said, “My God, Dick.”

The package contained two sheets of thick plate glass. Between them, spread flat but showing wrinkle marks, as if it had been found crumpled but had been smoothed out, lay a lace-edged pillowslip. The slip was of some dainty fabric; the lace was exquisite. By contrast the dirty imprint of a man’s hand, a trifle blurry but unmistakable, was an offense. The print lay just off-center, the impression of a right hand from which the tip of the little finger was missing to the first joint.

“Where did you find this?” Abe Pearl demanded.

“You like it, Abe?”

“Like it!” The chief bent over the glass, scrutinizing the pillowslip eagerly. “That missing fingertip alone—! Wait till Merrick sees this.”

“You owe Jessie an apology, Abe, don’t you?” Richard Queen said, smiling.

“I guess I do, Miss Sherwood! I can’t wait to see that iceberg’s face when he gets a squint at this,” Abe Pearl chortled. “But Dick, you haven’t told me where you got it.”

The old man said quietly, “We made it.”

The big man’s jaw dropped.

“It’s a forgery, Abe. And judging by your reaction, a successful one. That’s what I wanted to find out. If it’s fooled you, it’ll fool Humffrey.”

“A forgery...”

“We’ve been working on this for a week. Jessie went around from store to store in New York till she found a pillowcase exactly like the one that disappeared. What’s this lace called again, Jessie?”

“Honiton. The case itself is batiste.” Jessie glanced at the big policeman. “So of course, Mr. Pearl, I’ll let you take your apology back.”

He made an impatient gesture and turned away. But he turned back at once. “Tell me more, Dick.”