“At least we’ve got enough to convince Bonnie of the absurdity of her suspicions against dad. What you’ve just said proves dad was another victim, that’s all. Queen, would you—”
“Would I what?” Ellery emerged from a cavernous reverie.
“Would you tell that to Bonnie? Clear dad for me?”
Ellery rubbed his jaw. “And you, I take it?”
“Well... yes.”
“Now don’t worry about anything, Ty,” said Ellery with a sudden briskness. “Forget this mess. Go out and get some exercise. Or go on a bat for a couple of weeks. Why not take a vacation?”
“Leave Hollywood now?” Ty looked grim. “Not a chance.”
“Don’t be idiotic. You’re only in the way here.”
“Queen’s right,” said Lew. “The picture’s out, and I know Butch’ll give you a vacation. After all, he’s engaged to the girl.” He giggled.
Ty smiled and got to his feet. “Coming?”
“I think I’ll sit here and cogitate for a while.” Ellery surreptitiously glanced at his wrist-watch. “Think it over, Ty. Here, never mind the check! I’ll take care of it.”
Lew clutched the bottle to his bosom, reaching with his free hand for his hat. “My pal.”
Ty waved wearily and plodded off, followed a little erratically by Lew.
And Mr. Queen sat and cogitated with an unusually perturbed expression in his usually expressionless eyes.
Chapter 14
Mr. Queen, Misogaist
At ten minutes before one o’clock Bonnie scudded into the Brown Derby, looked about in panic, and made for Ellery’s booth with a queer little rush. She sat down and pushed herself into a corner, breathing hard.
“Here, what’s the matter?” said Ellery. “You look scared to death.”
“Oh, I am. I’m being followed!” She peeped over the partition at the door, her eyes wide.
“Clumsy,” mumbled Ellery.
“What?”
“I mean, it’s probably your imagination. Who would want to follow you?”
“I don’t know. Unless...” She stopped inexplicably, her brows almost meeting. Then she shook her head. “You’re looking especially lovely today.”
“Yet I’m positive... A big black car. A closed car.”
“You should wear bright colors all the time, Bonnie. They do remarkable things to your complexion.”
Bonnie smiled vaguely, removed her hat and gloves, and passed her hands over her face like a cat. “Never mind my complexion. It isn’t that. I just won’t wear mourning. It’s... it’s ridiculous. I’ve never believed in mourning. Black things are like a... poster. I keep fighting with Clotilde about it. She’s simply horrified.”
“Yes,” said Ellery encouragingly. She was carefully made up, very carefully indeed, to conceal her pallor and certain tiny fine lines around her eyes; her eyes were large and dark with lack of rest.
“I don’t have to go around advertising to the world that I’ve lost my mother,” said Bonnie in a low voice. “That funeral... it was a mistake. I hated it. I hate myself for having consented to it.”
“She had to be buried, Bonnie. And you know Hollywood.”
“Yes, but—” Bonnie smiled and said in a sudden gay tone: “Let’s not talk about it. May I have a drink?”
“So early in the day?”
She shrugged. “A daiquiri, please.” She began to explore her handbag.
Ellery ordered a daiquiri, and a brandy-and-soda, and watched her. She was breathing hard again, under cover of her activity. She took out her compact and examined her face in the mirror, not looking at him, not looking at what lay plainly revealed in her open bag, picking at nonexistent stragglers of honey-hued hairs, pursing her lips, applying a dab of powder to her nose. And suddenly, without looking at it, she took an envelope out of her bag and pushed it across the table to him.
“Here,” she said in a muffled voice. “Look at this.”
His hand closed over it as the waiter brought their drinks. When the waiter went away Ellery opened his hand. In it lay an envelope. Bonnie studied him anxiously.
“Our friend’s renounced the post-office pen, I see,” said Ellery. “Typewritten address this time.”
“But don’t you see?” whispered Bonnie. “It’s addressed to me!”
“I see quite clearly. When did it arrive?”
“In this morning’s mail.”
“Hollywood-posted last night, elite type, obvious characteristics three broken letters — b and d and t this time. Our friend had to use a different typewriter, since Jack’s portable has been in my possession since yesterday afternoon. All of which tends to show that the letter probably wasn’t written until last night.”
“Look... at what’s in it,” said Bonnie.
Ellery withdrew the inclosure. It was the seven of spades.
“The mysterious ‘enemy’ again,” he said lightly. “History seems on its way to being a bore... Oh.” He thrust the envelope and card into his pocket and rose suddenly. “Hello, Butch.”
The Boy Wonder was standing there, looking down at Bonnie with a queer expression.
“Hello, Bonnie,” he said.
“Hello,” said Bonnie faintly.
He stooped, and she turned her cheek. He straightened up without kissing her, his sharp eyes veiled. “Having lunch here,” he said casually. “Happened to spot you two. What’s up?”
“Bonnie,” said Ellery, “I think your estimable fiancé is jealous.”
“Yes,” said the Boy Wonder, smiling, “I think so, too.” He looked ill. There were deep circles about his eyes, and his cheeks were sunken with fatigue. “I tried to get you this morning, but Clotilde said you’d gone out.”
“Yes,” said Bonnie. “I... did.”
“You’re looking better, Bonnie.”
“Thank you.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“Why... Why don’t you sit down with us?” said Bonnie, moving an inch on her seat.
“Yes, why don’t you?” echoed Ellery heartily.
Those sharp eyes swept over him for an instant, stopping only long enough to touch on the pocket in which Ellery had thrust the envelope. “Thanks, no,” smiled Butcher. “I’ve got to be getting back to the studio. Well, so long.”
“So long,” said Bonnie in a low voice.
He stood there for a moment more, as if hesitating over a desire to kiss her; then suddenly he smiled and nodded and walked away. They saw the droop of his shoulders as the doorman held open the door for him.
Ellery sat down and sipped at his brandy-and-soda. Bonnie jiggled her long-stemmed glass.
“Nice chap, Butch,” said Ellery.
“Yes. Isn’t he.” Then Bonnie set down her glass with a little bang and cried: “Don’t you see? Now that the cards have started coming to me...”
“Now Bonnie—”
“You don’t think,” she said in a shaky little voice, “you don’t think... I’m... to be next?”
“Next?”
“Mother got the warnings, and she— Now I’m getting them.” She tried to smile. “I’m scared silly.”
Ellery sighed. “Then you’ve changed your mind about Jack Royle’s having sent those previous letters?”
“No!”
“But, Bonnie, surely you’re not afraid of a dead man?”
“No dead man mailed this letter last night,” said Bonnie fiercely. “Oh, Jack Royle sent those other letters to mother. But this one to me...” Bonnie shivered. “I have only one enemy, Mr. Queen.”