“He’s after her, Ellery!”
“Take it easy, child. I’ll get right down there.”
Ellery was on the upper deck when they came aboard. The glances Martha kept darting over her shoulder were aimed at invisible enemies. Harrison seemed to be reassuring her; he kept stroking her arm, kneading it, laughing.
Ellery saw no sign of Dirk.
They came topside and sat down in the stern, and after Ellery made a tour of the boat he returned to the upper deck and settled himself in an uncomfortable shadow to watch. He was trapped for at least two hours, the time it would take the ferry to cross the Upper Bay and plow back; and he thought with some bitterness of Dirk, ensconced in an air-cooled pub somewhere and doubtless enjoying himself in his Dostoyevskian fashion.
It was a muggy night, and the crowded ferry trundled through the bay in the heat like an old woman sighing. What breeze there was came piped from a furnace. Passengers squirmed in their sticky clothes and, feeling like a fly caught in flypaper, Ellery squirmed with them.
Only the lovers seemed oblivious. Martha was doing most of the talking tonight, with Harrison bent over, forearms on his thighs, listening. But whether she was making plans aloud, or pleading, or professing her fears — whether Harrison was listening with gravity or a smile — Ellery could not tell. When Harrison spoke, Martha leaned back to rest her head against the cabin. But it would be only for a moment, and then they resumed their roles.
Ellery continued to squirm.
They did not leave the municipal ferry terminal in St. George. Harrison bought some cigarets, that was all. On the return trip they sat near the bow. Martha continued her monologue.
Ellery yawned.
The lights of lower Manhattan were beginning to glimmer when Martha suddenly held something out to the silent man at her side. Harrison was lighting a cigaret at that moment, and in the brief flare Ellery saw what the something was.
It was a flattish package, like the one she had slipped to the actor that night in the Chinese Rathskeller.
Harrison glanced sidewise and down without taking the match from his cigaret.
He smiled.
His hand reached for the package as the match went out.
Nikki was watching television with Inspector Queen when Ellery got home. The Inspector took one look at his face and snapped off the set.
“I’ve been waiting for you!” said Nikki. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Dirk didn’t show. At least, I didn’t spot him.” Ellery stripped his jacket off and sank into a chair. “There’s something I’ve neglected to do.”
His father grunted and went out into the kitchen for the pitcher of lemonade.
“What?” asked Nikki.
“She slipped him another of those packages tonight. That makes two I’ve seen her give him since this began. I’m beginning to wonder how many I’ve missed. I’m pretty sure those packages contained money, and lots of it. I should have checked before this.”
“Money,” said Nikki, making a face. “You mean Martha’s... keeping him?”
“Hard words,” said Ellery. “But I don’t believe there’s any question about their accuracy.”
The Inspector came in and silently poured. Nikki clutched her glass and stared into it.
“For this, Dad, I’m going to need your help. Nikki, where does Martha bank?”
“The Hamilton National, Sutton branch.”
“Do you suppose,” Ellery asked his father, “you could get a confidential report for me from the Hamilton National?”
“Report on what?”
“All checks drawn by Martha Lawrence in the last two months or so. Nikki, does Martha have a substantial savings account in the same bank?”
“I think so. One of them, anyway.”
“A report on any large cash withdrawals from the savings account in the same period, Dad.”
“All right.”
“And while you’re about it, you may as well get a bank report on Harrison, especially of his savings account. He has a checking account in the Darien bank, probably for ordinary purposes — I spotted a couple of blank checkbook refills in his desk the night I was there — but I also saw some mail deposit envelopes of the Times Square branch of the United Savings Bank and the 48th Street branch of the Consumers Savings, and those are the accounts I’m interested in.”
The Inspector had the information in three days. Martha had drawn no checks specifically to Van Harrison, but she had drawn numerous checks to Cash for large round sums, and her savings account showed withdrawals of other large sums. And Van Harrison’s savings accounts showed deposits in identical amounts. The juxtaposition of dates corroborated the affinity of the two sets of accounts. Some of Martha’s withdrawals had no counterparts in Harrison’s deposits; these indicated the likelihood, as Inspector Queen pointed out, that Harrison had savings accounts in other banks.
“Adding them all up, Ellery, she’s forked over around fifty grand to this Romeo in the last couple of months. Man, that’s sex appeal.”
“How can she be such a fool!” wailed Nikki. “Can’t she see that’s all he’s after?”
“How long would you say, Nikki, she can keep this up?” asked the Inspector.
“Too long. Martha has a fortune. I suppose fifty thousand dollars doesn’t seem like awfully much to her. But if Dirk ever finds out—!”
Ellery said nothing. He kept looking at the bank reports and worrying the knuckles of his thumbs.
A few days later Nikki came to him in distress.
“This morning, when I got the mail, Dirk almost caught me opening the T letter. He’s begun to get up early, something he hasn’t done since I came. And Martha’s attitude toward me — it’s become strained, resentful. I’d leave today if I didn’t feel I oughtn’t to until I’m forced out. But you...”
Ellery massaged the back of her neck. “No,” he said, “it’s more important than ever to stick it out.”
“Ellery...”
“Yes, Nik.”
“I think he knows... more than we thought he did.”
Ellery’s hand stopped. “What makes you say that?”
“He caught Martha looking into the guidebook this morning.”
“The Maas? How? How did it happen?”
“We were in the study with the door to the living room shut. I was at the typewriter and he was walking around dictating. It wasn’t going well — he didn’t seem to have his mind on it. As if he were listening for something.” Nikki moistened her lips. “All of a sudden he ran over to the door and yanked it open. Martha was at the bookshelf, turning the pages of the guidebook. I thought she would faint — I know I almost did. Dirk said in a funny voice, ‘What are you doing, Marty?’ She said, ‘Nothing... nothing, dear. I was just looking up something.’ ‘In what? What’s that book?’ he said. She did the only thing I suppose she could do — she pretended to get angry and said, ‘Does it matter?’ And out she marched in a huff, with the book under her arm. I suppose by now she’s copied out the rest of the code places and destroyed the book. Only — it’s too late, Ellery.”
“He said something to you?”
“He didn’t have to. He shut the door and when he turned around his mouth was twisted at the corner — you know the trick he has. It was a sort of knowing twist...” Nikki shivered. “I can’t explain it, I only know what it meant. It meant he knew all about the book. It meant...”
“That he’s probably taken a list of the ringed places.” Ellery slowly reached for his pipe. “And if that’s the case, I’d better start trailing him.”
The Trinity Church tryst, according to Harrison’s latest note, was to be at nine o’clock the following night. Martha left early that morning for an all-day rehearsal, saying, “Don’t wait dinner for me. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.” Dirk said, “All right,” in a quiet way, and he spent most of the day struggling with his novel. At six-thirty he said, “That’s enough for today, Nikki. I think I’ll go out for dinner,” and he went into his bedroom and shut the door. Nikki waited until she heard the shower running, then she phoned Ellery. By the time Dirk left the apartment, Ellery was parked around the corner.