“No! You stay away from him!”
“From whom, Martha?”
“From — from Van!”
“Then you are in love with him. At least tell me this, Martha: Why are you hanging on to Dirk? Are you afraid that if you asked him for a divorce—?”
“Let me alone!”
Ellery was still sitting there when the clatter of Martha’s feet had died away.
He sat there for an hour, a slash of worry dividing his eyes.
Then he went to the phone and called the Lawrence apartment.
“Ellery?” It was Nikki who answered. “I... can’t talk now. Dirk’s up to his ears in this thing. It’s really going beautifully—”
“Whenever you can, Nikki.”
Nikki arrived within the hour.
“What’s the matter?” She was scared.
“Sit down, Nik.”
“But what is it?”
Ellery walked up and down as he told her of Martha’s visit.
“Nikki,” he said to her upturned face, “I’ve spent a lot of time this morning thinking that talk over. Up to now I’ve been inclined to treat this business as an annoyance. I won’t make that mistake from here on in. It’s a lot more serious than I thought.”
“Why do you say that? Why more serious?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Nikki was bewildered.
Ellery went to the window and stared down at 87th Street. “Doesn’t sound much like me, does it? No logic in it. No facts. Just feelings. Ghastly experience for a practical man...”
“But how could it be more serious?”
Ellery turned back. “Oh, in lots of ways,” he said lightly. “But let’s get back on firmer ground. It’s going to be a race against time. Sooner or later Dirk’s bound to smell out just what’s going on. He’s nose-down right now. It’s more than ever your job, Nikki, to fight a delaying action. He’s hot on this book?”
“Yes.”
“Keep those study fires burning. Drive him. Pamper him. Flatter him — tell him he’s the greatest mystery writer since Poe and that he’s producing a world classic that will outlive The Murders in the Rue Morgue. If he has another spell and beats Martha up again, shut your eyes and stop your ears. Above all, don’t give him any reason to get rid of you. If you’re out of the apartment, we’re through. Of course, wherever you can, cover up for Martha. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“Personally,” said Ellery, “I don’t give a damn about Dirk Lawrence. I’m tired of self-pitying neurotics. I’m no mental healer. Dirk’s brought this on himself. If he insists on going to hell on a shingle, I’ll respectfully tip my hat as he whizzes by.
“But Martha’s a different story. I like her all over again. She’s headed for trouble from Dirk, from Harrison, from God knows whom else or what. I want to help her more than ever and she’s going to get help whether she wants it or not.”
“Thank you,” whispered Nikki.
“And there’s only one way we can help her — by breaking up this dirty business with Harrison. Crack it wide open and manage to do it without letting it get back to Dirk.”
“But how, Ellery? Even if you broke it up, how could you shut Harrison’s mouth?”
“That little problem,” said Ellery, “is what I propose to go to work on, effective immediately.”
H· I· J· K·
That afternoon Ellery telephoned Leon Fields’s office.
“Mr. Fields isn’t here. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Queen?”
“Who is this speaking?”
“Mr. Fields’s secretary.”
“Miss Loughman?”
“That’s right.”
“Where can I get in touch with Leon, Miss Loughman? It’s important.”
“I really couldn’t say. Is this a confidential matter?”
“Extremely.”
“Well, I handle a great many of Mr. Fields’s confidential matters, Mr. Queen—”
“I’m sure you do, Miss Loughman, but this isn’t going to be one of them. Where is he, at 88th Street off Madison?”
There was a silence. Then the woman said, “Hold on a minute.”
Ellery held on.
Three minutes later the columnist’s jarring voice said, “Don’t do that, Ellery. Your geography question had Harriet changing her panties. That’s supposed to be top-secret stuff. What’s on your mind?”
“Is it safe to talk?”
“On my phone? Listen, chum, I’m on automatic wiretap-testing service. They check every hour on the hour. Shoot.”
“Well, have you thought about it?”
“Have I thought about what?”
“What you said you were going to think about. Just before our parting kiss that night.”
“You mean Harrison?” An unpleasant flatness came into Fields’s voice. “Yes, I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You don’t know what yet?”
“Whether I’ve thought about it enough. Look, Ellery, I’m in a hurry. I’m packing to fly out to Hollywood. Why don’t you call me when I get back?”
“When will that be?”
“Two-three weeks.”
“I can’t wait that long, Leon!”
“My friend,” said Leon Fields softly, “you’ve got to wait that long.”
He hung up.
Ellery wasted no time thinking unkind thoughts of Leon Fields. Fields was a law unto himself, not subject to the pressures of ordinary men. If Fields said, “Wait,” you waited. Usually, it turned out to be well worth waiting for.
Ellery saw no point in moving to the direct assault on Van Harrison until he had in hand the force and armament to impress his will, as the military said, upon the enemy. What he was hoping for from Fields was a weapon. The fact that it was a secret weapon made its acquisition doubly desirable.
Meanwhile, he could only keep up with the lovers between largely futile attacks on his work. His desk was piled high with unanswered correspondence, unread manuscripts submitted to Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, and the cryptic notes on his new novel which were so old that even he could no longer decipher them.
He followed Martha to Central Park West and 81st Street and saw her meet Harrison at the Hayden Planetarium. He felt rather bitter about their behavior on that occasion. They went inside to view the evening performance. In the dark they watched the artificial stars, and Ellery was not touched.
They left separately, and they went in different directions. Apparently Martha dared risk only the time for an astronomy lesson.
The following week, as if to preserve the mood of space and flight, they met at the Idlewild airport in Queens. The wind of a departing plane whipped Martha’s skirts about prettily as her lover embraced her. She was nervous, and pulled away and looked around as usual; and he, as usual jaunty, laughed and kissed her and away they went in his convertible — away to lower Connecticut, to a country road with a beautiful house at the end of it, overlooking a slough of the Sound, with evergreens sighing all around like envious neighbors. And the actor carried Martha Lawrence over his threshold as if she were his bride, and Ellery — watching from the protection of a typical Connecticut boulder — backed his car around and drove off with a sickness in him.
In the third week he telephoned Leon Fields’s office again. Mr. Fields was still on the Coast, reported Miss Loughman. No, she had had no word of the exact day of his return, but if Mr. Queen would care to call again on Friday...