Inspector Queen’s Own Case

“You’ve found it?” The bitterness in Humffrey’s voice was startling.

“I can’t say any more over the phone. Will you come out here so we can have a talk about this, Mr. Humffrey? Voluntarily? Or—?” He deliberately left Humffrey dangling.

The wire was quiet.

“Very well,” the millionaire said slowly. “I’ll be out in an hour.”

The instant the connection was broken, Richard Queen snatched the earphones from his head and ran into Abe Pearl’s office.

“Convinced now?” he cried. “You heard the way he asked if you’d found it! He’d never have said it that way if he knew the pillowslip was gone beyond recall. He accepted the possibility that the slip could be produced! Look, let’s get that tape recorder hooked up. Better be sure you plant the bug where he won’t spot it... I tell you, Abe, we’ve got him!”

“Chief Pearl,” Alton Humffrey said.

“Who wants him?” The desk man kept writing.

“Alton K. Humffrey.”

The officer looked up.

“Humffrey?” he said in a hard voice. He rose. “Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand,” Humffrey said.

“That’s up to you.” The uniformed man disappeared in a hall beyond the water cooler.

The millionaire looked around the room. He was very pale. Several patrolmen and two detectives were lounging in silence, staring at him. Humffrey’s pallor deepened. He looked away, fingering his collar.

The burly figure of Chief Pearl appeared from the hall.

“I made good time, you see, Chief,” Alton Humffrey said. He sounded nervously friendly.

The chief said, “Reynolds, better fill in at the desk. Harris has to take stenographic notes. No calls of any kind. I don’t care if there’s a riot.”

“Yes, sir.” One of the patrolmen went behind the desk and sat down.

“This way, Mr. Humffrey.” Abe Pearl stepped back.

Alton Humffrey moved toward him slowly. The millionaire seemed puzzled as well as nervous now.

The two detectives got up and sauntered across the room after him. Humffrey glanced over his shoulder at them, looked ahead quickly.

“That door at the end of the hall,” Chief Pearl said.

Humffrey walked up the hall, the chief close on his heels. The two detectives followed.

At the door Humffrey hesitated.

“Go in and have a seat, Mr. Humffrey. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Abe Pearl turned his back and began to whisper to his two detectives.

Humffrey stepped into the chief’s office uncertainly. The man who had been on desk duty in the outer room was at one of the windows operating a pencil sharpener. On a chair beside the chief’s big swivel chair lay a stenographic notebook. The officer glanced at Humffrey, went to the smaller chair, picked up the notebook, flipped it open, and sat down, waiting.

There was only one other chair in the office. It was straight-backed and uncomfortable-looking. The millionaire hesitated again. Then he sank into it.

Chief Pearl came in alone. He went around his desk and seated himself. Humffrey stole a glance at the door. The shadows of the two detectives were silhouetted on the frosted glass.

“This is all very formidable, Mr. Pearl,” Humffrey said with a smile. “Anyone would think you were preparing to arrest me.”

The swivel chair squealed as the Taugus chief leaned back, scowling.

“Perhaps I should have brought my attorney,” Humffrey went on in a jocular way.

“There’s nothing your attorney can do for you tonight,” Chief Pearl said. “Tonight you’re going to be shown something, and I expect you to make a statement. After that you can call ten attorneys for all I care.”

“Shown something?” the millionaire said. “That would be the pillowslip, Mr. Pearl?”

The big man got up and went over to the door of the anteroom. He opened it and said, “All right, Dick.”

Humffrey half-rose.

Richard Queen came in with the glass-protected pillowslip. It was wrapped in brown paper.

“Queen,” Humffrey said. He was staring from the old man to the paper-covered object, fascinated.

“You, too, Miss Sherwood,” Abe Pearl grunted.

Jessie walked in.

The millionaire got to his feet.

“You remember Inspector Queen, Mr. Humffrey,” the chief said.

“I might have known,” Humffrey said slowly. “I might have known.”

“It’s your show, Dick. Take over.” The chief glanced at the uniformed man with the notebook. “Start taking notes, Harris.”

The sharpened pencil poised.

“If you don’t mind, Abe, I’ll set this down on your desk.” The Inspector laid the package on the desk. He loosened the wrappings, but did not remove them. Humffrey’s eyes were on the brown paper. The old man straightened up and faced the millionaire. “This is quite an exhibit, Mr. Humffrey. No wonder you didn’t want us to find it.”

Humffrey was all gathered in now, almost crouching. He could not seem to tear his glance from the brown paper.

“It’s a whole case by itself,” Richard Queen went on. “It not only knocks that inquest jury’s verdict of accidental death into the next county, it proves that Michael Stiles Humffrey was deliberately murdered, as Miss Sherwood insisted from the beginning. But it does even more than that, Mr. Humffrey. It not only proves the baby was murdered, it shows who murdered him.”