“You can be very annoying at times,” said Mr. Queen. “What is that?”
“A wire from our man on the Coast. He’s located Captain Angus!”
“What?”
“Absolutely. And he’ll be in with him tonight. That clinches it, you sockeroo! That’s all I needed to clean up this case!”
“Oh,” said Mr. Queen slowly. “You have a theory?”
“Theory? Nuts! I’ve got the answer!” And Beau began to explain, chattering like a machine-gun. Mr. Queen listened in silence, nodding glumly every once in a while. “What’s the matter? You don’t look very happy about it!”
“It all points that way, I confess,” said Mr. Queen. “I can’t disprove your theory — in fact, I can add to it and strengthen it considerably. There’s only one point that bothers me, Beau.”
“What’s that?”
Mr. Queen waved his hand. “It’s a small discrepancy — too small at the moment to worry about.”
“Then the hell with it! What do you say — do we go to town?”
Mr. Queen sighed. “I suppose we may as well.”
They put their heads together, going over Beau’s case, checking it, re-examining, working out the details of a plan. Beau’s eyes gleamed at certain contributions of Mr. Queen’s; his spirits steadily rose, and he looked happy for the first time in months.
And then the telephone rang and Miss Penny said. “It’s your father, Mr. Queen.”
Beau sat down, losing his grin.
“Well, dad?” said Ellery.
He listened; and as he listened he stiffened. When finally he set down the instrument he laughed aloud. “What do you know about that?”
“Know about what? Talk, you brass monkey!”
“It’s the beginning of the end now, Beau.” Mr. Queen rose and shook himself a little, like an athlete before running out to meet his opponent. “Dad just tipped me off. Margo Cole — hold your chair, now! — was NOT the daughter of Huntley and Nadine Cole. She was NOT Cadmus Cole’s niece, or Kerrie’s cousin. In fact, she was NOT Margo Cole.”
Beau’s jaw sagged. “She wasn’t — Then who the devil was she?”
“One of the coolest impostors on record!”
And Mr. Queen hustled his speechless partner out of the office and downstairs, bound for a taxicab and Police Headquarters.
XVIII. Enter Miss Bloomer
They took a cab down town.
“How’d pop ever dig that one up?” demanded Beau, when he had recovered from the shock.
“I didn’t like her.”
“Talk sense!”
“I am. I got to thinking about the woman who presented herself as Mar go Cole, and there was something about her and her story that made me think in terms of flies and honey, if you know what I mean. She seemed too much the woman of the world.”
“That’s reasoning, all right,” grunted Beau. “Lucky guess!”
“Certainly.” Ellery laughed. “Except for the little detail of the ‘partner’ she mentioned to Kerrie just before she was murdered. A partner suggested a plot, and a plot—” He shrugged. “At any rate, I merely suggested to dad that he have the dead woman’s fingerprints taken. He did, and sent photos of them by radio to Scotland Yard and the Sûreté. Scotland Yard came through.”
“Who was she? I’m still winded!”
“A woman named Ann Bloomer. A London slum product — drunken father, sluttish mother — lived by her wits from adolescence. When she was 19 she was caught by the British police in some blackmailing scheme and sent to clink for a year. When she was released in 1925 she disappeared from England. 1925, remember, was the year the real Margo Cole’s mother died in France.”
“But the French police checked this woman!”
“We’ve all been neatly taken in. Don’t you see what happened? When the Bloomer woman appeared in this country, claiming to be Margo Cole, she told a certain story. Well, that story was a consolidation of two stories. That is, she told the history of the real Margo Cole up to the year 7925; from 7925 on, the story she told was her own history. That means the real Margo disappeared in 1925 — or, at least, there’s no record of her existence after that year.”
“You mean this business goes back that far?” Beau whistled. “Murder as far back as 1925?”
“Don’t know.” Mr. Queen gazed somberly out of the taxi window. “Dad’s news opens up a new field of speculation and inquiry, however. Anyway, we know Ann Bloomer, who said she had changed her name from Margo Cole to Ann Strange, was actually an English adventuress with no possible relation to the Cole family. Dad checked that, too. And it’s that woman who tried to murder Kerrie and was murdered herself for her pains!”
“Say, how’d she get hold of Margo Cole’s proofs of identity? Do you suppose—”
“Dad’s called Goossens to bring down all those proofs.”
Beau told the driver to stop at the Tombs.
When Kerrie saw him she gave a little cry and ran into his arms. After a while Mr. Queen coughed.
“You might introduce me to the lady, Beau.”
Beau did the honors and, from the safety of his arms, Kerrie eyed Ellery in a puzzled way. “I’m terribly happy to meet the man I thought I’d married. So you’re Ellery Queen!”
“And you’re Kerrie Shawn.”
“A little the worse for wear, I’m afraid,” sighed Kerrie. “Mr. Queen, haven’t we met somewhere?”
“It’s one of those annoying probabilities,” replied Mr. Queen quickly, “that it’s so much better not to bother oneself about. Now that we meet in fact, Miss Shawn, and I’ve an opportunity of seeing for myself, I don’t wonder you’ve upset Beau’s whole self-centered life!”
“I’m not very much to look at these days,” said Kerrie with a sad smile. “A little slap-happy from all these flattering attentions from life... Darling.” She pressed Beau’s hand.
“Look, kid.” Beau was embarrassed. “I had to stop in and sort of put my arms around you again. You know. See that you weren’t sore at me. But we’ve got to beat it.”
“So soon?” Kerrie cried.
“Some day we’ll knock off for a thousand years and go away together and just hold hands the whole damn’ time. But right now Ellery and I have work to do.”
“All right, Beau.” She kissed him. “That’s really a nice name. Beau Rummell. Why, do you know—”
“No cracks,” said Beau hastily. “Kerrie, you all right? They’re treating you okay?”
“Yes, Beau.”
“Anything I can get you before I leave?”
“Vi’s been here. She brought me a few things she knew I’d need. Beau... the police are watching Vi, too.”
“Aw, that’s just a matter of form,” muttered Beau. “They wouldn’t earn their pay if they didn’t look smart.”
“Have you — have you hired a lawyer for me yet?”
“What’s the matter with me? I’m a lawyer!”
“Oh, darling, I know, but—”
Beau kissed her. “We won’t need one. Ellery and I’ll have this case cracked in one more day.”
Kerrie’s eyes grew round. “You mean you’ve found out—”
“Just a little more patience, funny-face. We’d try to spring you, only with that murder rap hanging over your head it’s no use trying. They’ve got to work fast, anyway. Either release you or change the charge—” Beau’s face darkened, then he grinned at her. “You’ll just have to stay here a little while longer.”
“Make it a very little while,” Kerrie whispered.
“Miss Shawn, did you know that Margo Cole really wasn’t Margo Cole?” asked Mr. Queen suddenly.