Kerrie’s stomach began to churn. There was a wry twist to her mouth.
“Yes?” said the Inspector flatly.
“You’ve got to believe me, pop! This thing is all a mess now. Margo Cole tried three times to kill Kerrie. She hated Kerrie because she — well, she’d taken a shine to me herself. And she was spending more dough than was coming in, and she wanted Kerrie’s share of the income. She told me so herself! I’ll swear to that on the witness-stand! I played along, figuring that was the best way to protect Kerrie; we didn’t have anything on Margo in the way of evidence, so there was no use pulling the law into it. Ellery knows all about this. He’ll back me up.”
“Don’t bring Ellery into it!” thundered the Inspector.
“I’ve got to, pop. Even if I didn’t, he’d come to bat—”
“Does he know these things of his own knowledge?” demanded the old man quickly.
“No. I told him. But it’s true, I tell you! I planned the fake marriage because, with Kerrie apparently married, Margo would temporarily get Kerrie’s share, or expect to get it soon, so half her motive against Kerrie would be satisfied. The other half — well,” and Beau threw back his shoulders defiantly, “I made a deal with her. I pretended to be her accomplice, saying I was marrying Kerrie to give Margo the extra income, so she and I could split. I told her I loved her, not Kerrie — that the marriage wouldn’t mean a thing. She fell for it. Last night, like the she-devil she was, she couldn’t resist coming down to crow over Kerrie after the damage, as she thought, was done.”
“You expect me to believe this girl here didn’t know that marriage was a phony?”
“Do you think she’s the kind—” began Beau; then he made a gesture of futility. “I didn’t marry her on the level because I didn’t want to see her lose that legacy. I didn’t tell her the marriage was a fake because, if I had, she wouldn’t have gone through with it. You don’t know her, I tell you!”
The two Assistant District Attorneys whispered together. Then one of them beckoned the Inspector, and the three of them whispered some more. Finally the Inspector, very pale, said to Beau: “Just where did you go last night, Beau, when you left this girl in that hotel room after you’d checked in?”
Kerrie raised her head at that; her eyes looked hurt, misty, dull.
“For one thing I’m not a skunk!” snarled Beau. “I was in a tough spot. She thought we were married, I knew we weren’t... I made some rotten excuse, said I was coming back, and blew. When I got outside I thought of something. There were two people who had to be notified that the marriage wasn’t on the up and up — they were the trustees of the Cole estate.
“I went back to my Times Square office and wrote out two letters — one to Goossens, one to De Carlos. They were identical. They said the marriage was a phony, and I was notifying them because the legal question of the passing of Kerrie’s share to Margo was a factor; I didn’t want Kerrie to lose even a week’s income. I said Margo was after Kerrie’s scalp, and I wanted them to play ball with me, stall along for a while, until I could pin those murder attempts on Margo. Then I sealed the letters, put special-delivery stamps on them, and mailed them in the lobby slot. The night man in my building let me in and let me out. Then I went back to the Villanoy.”
“The check-up will be made, of course.” The Inspector turned away, stonily.
Beau ran over to Kerrie. “Kerrie, I want you to believe me! I want you to know I love you, and that everything I’ve done so far was because — damn it, Kerrie, I’d cut off my right arm before I’d pull a dirty trick like that!”
The Inspector and the two lawyers were conferring in whispers again. The attorneys were demanding something, and the Inspector was arguing fiercely against them.
“I think I know who killed Margo,” whispered Beau in Kerrie’s ear. “It’s just come to me — just since last night. I mean since early this morning. All I need is a little time, darling. Kerrie, say something. At least tell me you don’t think I’m a murdering heel!”
She turned slowly at that, raising her eyes and fixing them on his. In their hurt, misty way, they were troubled searchlights, probing the darkness.
And suddenly she put her arms about him and pulled him down to her. He closed his eyes gratefully. He felt the straining of her arms, the beating of her heart.
A man tapped her on the shoulder, shoving Beau aside. Beau did not protest.
He watched them lead her away — to the Tombs, as he knew, to go through the whole ghastly and scarifying process of being booked, fingerprinted, locked in a cell... She walked in a dream, seeing nothing.
Beau glanced at the Inspector, who waved his hand.
“Don’t leave the city.” Inspector Queen’s voice was dry; he did not look up from his desk, where he was fussing with some papers.
“Sure, pop,” said Beau gently. “And — thanks.”
The Inspector started, then went back to his papers.
Beau left quickly. He knew that he would be followed. He thought it very possible, from the Inspector’s peculiar expression and the glances of the two men from the District Attorney’s office, that before twenty-four hours had passed he might be lodged, with Kerrie, in the Tombs on an accomplice charge.
In fact, he was sure that only the Inspector’s insistence had kept the two attorneys from having him taken into custody on the spot.
Beau walked the streets of downtown New York half the night. He analyzed his case over and over, mercilessly, picking, probing, digging for flaws. And finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, he said to himself: “It’s in the groove,” and sent Ellery a telegram to meet him at the office at nine o’clock in the morning.
Then Beau went home and to sleep.
At nine they met, and Mr. Queen’s haggard appearance said that he knew of Kerrie’s arrest, and moreover that he had had no sleep since learning of it.
Beau told him exactly what had happened while Ellery listened in a gloomy silence. “Well,” he said at last, “we have some time — these things go slowly, and we need a complete case. Did you check up on De Carlos yesterday?”
“I found some old-timers in the Street who remembered him. They all think De Carlos was a weak sister. Big ideas, but no follow-through. With Cole dominating him from the background, planning the campaigns, De Carlos pulled the big deals in actual practise. By himself, as a planner, De Carlos was useless. As a matter of fact, he’s been in the market since Cole’s death — did you know that? And he’s lost his shirt.”
Ellery was thoughtful “And then, too, he’s been spending that million Cole left him like a gob on shore-leave. He must be pretty nearly flat, if they cleaned him in Wall Street.”
“He is,” said Beau.
“Any trace of his ever having been married?”
“What do you think I am, a Houdini? Far as I could check, no.”
“Well, I’ve been doing some checking myself. For some time. There’s always the possibility, but it seems fairly certain, and from the reports I’ve been receiving, we may assume De Carlos never married. Now, how about Cole’s personal belongings?”
“Checked. Lots of duds, odds and ends of jewelry — some pretty valuable stuff, I’d say, watches, rings, studs — and a bunch of personal papers. Nothing to interest us, though.”
“Did you find a fountain-pen?”
“No, nor an automatic pencil.”
“False teeth?”
“No.”
“Eyeglasses, toupee, wig?”
“No.”
Miss Penny came in with a telegram. Beau tore it open and began to jig, waving the yellow slip. “I don’t know what you’ve got,” he yelled, “but I’ve got plenty!”