Well done, friend.
“Thank you,” said Val, rising. “Uh... Hilary, let’s go.”
“Why not?” said Ellery-Hilary, and he uncoiled his legs from under Mr. Ruhig’s uncomfortable chair.
He had scarcely got out of it when Ruhig’s office-door flew open and Walter Spaeth strode in, hatless and panting, as if he had run all the way from Spring Street.
“What’s this,” he demanded of Ruhig, “about you and Winni?”
“Ah, Walter!”
Walter’s right fist smashed down on Ruhig’s desk. “So that’s the game,” he said in a hard voice. “All right, Ruhig, I’ll get into it, too.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the lawyer brusquely.
“You aren’t satisfied with the hundreds of thousands you collected from my father in fees in that crooked Ohippi operation. Now that he’s dead you want the big money — the millions. And you’re marrying that damned empty-headed fool of a woman to get them!”
“Get out,” said Ruhig. “Get out of here.”
“I’ve been thinking it over for some time. Ruhig, there’s something rotten about that will!”
“You will find,” said Mr. Ruhig with a dangerous softness, “that your father had full testamentary capacity.”
“I’ll spike your little scheme. I’m getting a lawyer to file a protest. I’ll break that will, Ruhig. You’ll never live to see it probated.”
“Your father,” snapped Ruhig like a tormented little badger, “was entirely able to comprehend the nature and extent of his property, his relationship to the natural objects of his bounty, and the scope and effects of the contents of his will. Will you get out, or do I have to have my clerks put you out?”
Walter actually smiled. “So it’s a fight, is it? By God, Ruhig, I’ve been itching for one.”
And he strode out with no more than a passing glance at Val and Mr. King — an absent glance that sharpened momentarily and then grew absent again.
“Goodbye,” said Val in a small voice.
They left Mr. Ruhig sitting still behind his desk, no longer smiling. In fact, Mr. Ruhig was immersed in thought — half-drowned in it, Mr. King would have said.
XIII
Winni the Pooh et Cetera
“There’s that man again,” said Ellery, as they walked down the street.
“Where?”
“Somewhere behind us. I’m psychic about these things. Where’s your car parked?”
“N-near Hill.”
“Head for it and I’ll drop behind. Let’s see if we can’t bag this squirrel.”
Val stepped off the curb and nervously crossed the street. She was just mounting the sidewalk on the other side when she heard an outcry behind her. She whirled about.
Mr. Hilary King was struggling with a medium-sized, broad-shouldered man whose bellow could be heard as far as City Hall.
“Stop!” cried Val, racing back across the street. She yanked Ellery’s arm, which was engaged in a futile-seeming maneuver that looked like ju-jutsu, and was, and then shook the other man, who had just caught Ellery flush on the nose with his freckled fist.
“Pink!” she screamed. “Mr. King, stop! It’s Pink!”
“I’m ready to call it quits,” panted Mr. King, feeling his nose with his free sleeve, “if this wildcat is.”
“Who is this guy?” stormed Pink. “I spotted him for a ringer right away! Did he force you, Val? I’ll tear his gizzard out!”
“Don’t be an ass,” said Val irritably. “Come on, they’ll have the riot squad out in a minute.” And indeed Old Faithful, the black sedan, had stopped and its two occupants were hastily getting out.
The three of them looked at the sedan, the gaping crowd about them, the approaching detectives, and ran. They ran all the way to Hill Street, pursued, grabbed Val’s car, and shot away into the late afternoon traffic.
“There’s one consolation,” said Mr. King, still caressing his nose. “We’ve lost our escort.”
Pink slumped back in the rear, trying to compress himself into the smallest possible space.
“You’re an idiot,” snapped Val, driving furiously. “Was it you who was following us? Pink, if you don’t stop wet-nursing me—”
“How should I know?” whined Pink. “This guy looked like a phony to me. And Rhys told me to take care of you.”
“That’s no excuse. This is Mr. King, a... an old school chum. He’s helping me on my job.”
“Job!” Pink goggled.
Val told him about the events of the day, concluding with the Ruhig incident.
“Say!” exclaimed Pink. “I know why Ruhig admitted being at San Susie Monday at five-fifteen.”
“You do?”
“I’ve been doin’ a little snooping myself,” said Pink proudly. “I got to thinking about this Ruhig menace, and I says maybe he’s hiding something, so I goes up to his office this morning and I get palsy with the switchboard gal and pretty soon she spills. Ruhig and two of his gorillas left the office Monday a little past four-thirty in Ruhig’s car!”
“Pink, I retract the arm-lock,” said Ellery warmly. “A good job. Ruhig discovered the girl had been talking, assumed you told Valerie, and therefore came out with the truth the instant she questioned him.”
“I think,” murmured Val, “we’ve got something.” She frowned, examining the road behind her in the mirror. Then she swung off the boulevard and headed the car northwest.
“Where you going now?” demanded Pink.
“To Sans Souci. I want to talk to Frank, and I simply must interview dear, dear Winni — the damned Pooh!” And she stepped viciously on the accelerator.
A detective sat dozing in the pillbox, while Frank crouched disconsolately on an empty orange-crate near the gate.
The detective opened one eye at the sound of Val’s klaxon, then quickly got up and came out to the gate.
“Can’t go in,” he said, waving his hand. “Orders.”
“Oh, dear,” said Val. “Look, Lieutenant, we’re not—”
“I ain’t, but you can’t come in.”
Ellery nudged her. “Have you forgotten? You represent the massed power of the press.”
“Dag my nab, yes,” said Val. “Here, Captain, look at this. Press. Newspaper. Reporter.”
She waggled her press card. He examined it suspiciously through the grille. “All right, you come in. But the two men stay here.”
“Time,” said Mr. King. “I, too, gather the news.” And he exhibited his credentials. “It looks as if you’re stuck, Pink.”
“Not me. Where she goes, I go!”
“No, you don’t,” said the detective sourly; and Pink found himself back on the curb, where he had sat Monday night, glaring at the iron gate.
“Frank, come here,” said Val. The one-armed gateman looked startled; the detective scowled. “Interview,” said Val with a bewitching smile.
The two men were properly bewitched, and Frank followed Val some little distance from the pillbox, Ellery ambling behind lazily. But his eyes were sweeping the terrain. The place looked deserted.
“Frank,” said Val sternly, when they were out of earshot of the gate, “You deliberately lied Monday night!”
The gateman paled. “Me, Miss Jardin? I didn’t lie.”
“Oh, didn’t you? Didn’t you tell Glücke no one but Miss Moon and a man wearing my father’s coat entered the grounds between the time the auction ended and the time Walewski came on?”
“Sure I said that. It’s the God’s honest truth.”
“You’re a blaspheming, wicked old man!” said Val. “You weren’t at that gate all Monday afternoon, and you know it!”