Calamity Town (9 page)

‘Look at what?' demanded Ellery, puzzled. ‘I don't see anything except no customers, since the sun is shining and Carlatti's patrons don't creep out of their walls until nightfall.'

‘Judging from that car on the plot,' said Pat, a little pale, ‘there's
one
customer.'

Ellery frowned. ‘It does look like the same car.'

‘It is.' Pat drove up to the entrance, and they jumped out.

‘It might be business, Pat,' said Ellery, not with conviction.

Pat glanced at him scornfully and opened the front door. There was no one in the chrome-and-scarlet leather interior but a bartender and a man mopping the postage-stamp dance floor. Both employees looked at them curiously. ‘I don't see him,' whispered Pat.

‘He may be in one of those booths…No.'

‘The back room…'

‘Let's sit down.'

They sat down at the nearest table and the bartender came over, yawning. ‘What'll it be, folks?'

‘Cuba Libre,' said Pat, nervously looking around.

‘Scotch.'

‘Uh-huh.' The bartender strolled back to his bar.

‘Wait here,' said Ellery. He got up and made for the rear, like a man looking for something.

‘It's over that way,' said the man with the mop, pointing to a door marked
HE
. But Ellery pushed against a partly open redand-gold door with a heavy brass lock. It swung noiselessly.

The room beyond was a gambling room. In a chair at the empty roulette table sprawled Jim Haight, his head on one arm of the table. A burly man with a cold cigar stub in his teeth stood half turned away from Ellery at a telephone on the far wall. ‘Yeah. I said Mrs Haight, stoopid.' The man had luxuriant black brows which almost met and a gray flabby face. ‘Tell her Vic Carlatti.'

‘Stoopid' would be Alberta. Ellery stood still against the redand-gold door. ‘Mrs Haight? This is Mr Carlatti of the
Hot Spot
,' said the proprietor in a genial bass. ‘Yeah…No, I ain't making no mistake, Mrs Haight. It's about Mr Haight…Now wait a minute. He's settin' in my back room right now, cockeyed…I mean drunk…Now don't get bothered, Mrs Haight. Your old man's okay. Just had a couple of shots too many and passed out. What'll I do with the body?'

‘Just a moment,' said Ellery pleasantly.

Carlatti slewed his big head around. He looked Ellery up and down. ‘Hold on a second, Mrs Haight…Yeah? What can I do for you?'

‘You can let me talk to Mrs Haight,' said Ellery, crossing over and taking the phone from the man's furry hands. ‘Nora? This is Ellery Smith.'

‘Ellery!' Nora was frantic. ‘What's the matter with Jim? How is he? How did you happen to—'

‘Don't get excited, Nora. Pat and I were driving past Carlatti's place and we noticed Jim's car parked outside. We're in here now and Jim's all right. Just had a little too much to drink.'

‘I'll drive right down—the station wagon—'

‘You'll do nothing of the kind. Pat and I will have him home in half an hour. Don't worry, do you hear?'

‘Thank you,' whispered Nora, and hung up.

Ellery turned from the telephone to find Pat bending over Jim, shaking him. ‘Jim. Jim!'

‘It's no use, girl friend,' growled Carlatti. ‘He's carrying a real load.'

‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting him tight!'

‘Now don't get tough, babe. He came in here under his own steam. I got a licence to sell liquor. He wants to buy, he can buy. Get him outa here.'

‘How did you know who he was? How did you know whom to call?' Pat was fizzing with indignation.

‘He's been here before, and besides I frisked him. And don't gimme that fishy eye. Come on, pig. Blow!'

Pat gasped. ‘Excuse me,' said Ellery. He walked past Carlatti as if the big man were not there, and then suddenly he turned and stepped hard on Carlatti's bulldog toe. The man bellowed with pain and reached swiftly for his back pocket. Ellery set the heel of his right hand against Carlatti's chin and pushed. Carlatti's head snapped back; and as he staggered Ellery punched him in the belly with the other hand. Carlatti groaned and sank to the floor, clutching his middle with both hands and staring up, surprised. ‘Miss Pig to you,' said Ellery. He yanked Jim out of his chair and got him in a fireman's grip. Pat picked up Jim's crushed hat and ran to hold the door open.

Ellery took the wheel going back. In the open car, with the wind striking his face and Pat shaking him, Jim began to revive. He goggled glassily at them.

‘Jim, whatever made you do a silly thing like this?'

‘Huh?' gurgled Jim, closing his eyes again.

‘In mid-afternoon, when you should be at the bank!'

Jim sank lower in the seat, muttering. ‘Stupefied,' said Ellery. There was a deep cleft between his brows. His rear-vision mirror told him a car was overtaking them rapidly—Carter Bradford's car. Pat noticed, and turned. And turned back, very quickly. Ellery slowed down to let Bradford pass. But Bradford did not pass. He slowed down alongside and honked his horn. A lean gray Yankee with a red face and jellyfish eyes sat beside him. Obediently, Ellery pulled up at the side of the road; and Bradford stopped his car, too.

Pat said: ‘Why,
hello
, Cart,' in a surprised voice. ‘And Mr Dakin! Ellery, this is Chief Dakin of the Wrightsville police. Mr Ellery Smith.'

Chief Dakin said: ‘How do, Mr Smith,' in a polite voice, and Ellery nodded.

‘Anything wrong?' asked Carter Bradford, a little awkwardly. ‘I noticed Jim here was—'

‘Well, that's extremely efficient, Cart,' said Pat warmly. ‘Practically Scotland Yardish, or at the very least F.B.I. Isn't it, Ellery? The Public Prosecutor and the Chief of Police—'

‘There's nothing wrong, Bradford,' said Ellery.

‘Nothing that a bicarbonate of soda and a good night's sleep won't fix,' said Chief Dakin dryly. ‘Carlatti's?'

‘Something like that,' said Ellery. ‘Now if you don't mind, gentlemen, Mr Haight needs his bed—badly'

‘Anything I can do, Pat…' Cart was flushed. ‘Matter of fact, I was thinking of calling you up—'

‘You were thinking of calling me up.'

‘I mean—'

Jim stirred between Pat and Ellery, mumbling. Pat said severely: ‘Jim. How do you feel?' He opened his eyes again. They were still glassy, but something behind the glaze made Pat look at Ellery with a swift fear. ‘Say, he's in a bad way, at that,' said Dakin.

‘Relax, now, Jim,' soothed Ellery. ‘Go to sleep.'

Jim looked from Pat to Ellery to the men in the other car, but he did not recognize any of them. The mumble became intelligible: ‘Wife my wife damn her oh damn wife…'

‘Jim!' cried Pat. ‘Ellery, get him home!'

Ellery released his hand brake quickly. But Jim was not to be repressed. He pulled himself up and his cheeks, pale from sickness, grew scarlet. ‘Rid of her!' he shouted. ‘Wait'n' see! I'll get rid of the bas'ard! I'll kill ‘a bas'ard!'

Chief Dakin blinked, and Carter Bradford looked immensely surprised and opened his mouth to say something. But Pat pulled Jim down savagely and Ellery shot the convertible forward, leaving Bradford's car behind. Jim began to sob, and in the middle of a sob he suddenly fell asleep again. Pat shrank as far from him as she could. ‘Did you hear what he
said
, Ellery? Did you?'

‘He's crazy blind.' Ellery stepped hard on the gas pedal.

‘It's true, then,' moaned Pat. ‘The letters—Rosemary…Ellery, I tell you Rosemary and Jim have been putting on an act! They're in cahoots to—to—And Cart and Chief Dakin heard him!'

‘Pat.' Ellery kept his eyes on the road. ‘I haven't wanted to ask you this before, but…Has Nora any considerable sum of money, or property, in her own right?'

Pat moistened her lips very slowly. ‘Oh…no. It couldn't be…that'

‘Then she has.'

‘Yes,' Pat whispered. ‘By my grandfather's will. Pop's father. Nora automatically inherited a lot of money when she married, held in trust for her if and when. Grandfather Wright died soon after Lola eloped with that actor—he'd cut Lola off because of that, and divided his estate between Nora and me. I get half when I marry, too—'

‘How much did Nora get?' asked Ellery. He glanced at Jim. But Jim was stertorously asleep.

‘I don't know. But Pop once told me it's more than Nora and I could ever spend. Oh Lord—Nora!'

‘If you start to cry,' said Ellery grimly. ‘I'll dump you overboard. Is this inheritance to you and Nora a secret?'

‘Try to keep a secret in Wrightsville,' said Pat. ‘Nora's money…' She began to laugh. ‘It's like a bad movie. Ellery—what are we going to
do
?' She laughed and laughed.

Ellery turned Pat's car into the Hill drive. ‘Put Jim to bed,' he muttered.

11

Thanksgiving: The First Warning

The next morning Mr Queen was knocking at Nora's door before eight. Nora's eyes were swollen. ‘Thanks for—yesterday. Putting Jim to bed while I was being so silly—'

‘Rubbish,' said Ellery cheerfully. ‘There hasn't been a bride since Eve who didn't think the world was going under when hubby staggered home under his first load. Where's the erring husband?'

‘Upstairs shaving.' Nora's hand trembled as she fussed with the gleaming toaster on the breakfast table.

‘May I go up? I shouldn't want to embarrass your sister-in-law by prowling around the bedroom floor at this hour—'

‘Oh, Rosemary doesn't get up till ten,' said Nora. ‘These wonderful November mornings! Please do—and tell Jim what you think of him!'

Ellery laughed and went upstairs. He knocked on the masterbedroom door, which was half-open, and Jim called from the bathroom: ‘Nora? Gosh, darling, I knew you'd be my sweet baby and forgive—' His voice blurred when he spied Ellery. Jim's face was half shaved; the shaved half was pasty, and his eyes puffed. ‘Morning, Smith. Come in.'

‘I just dropped by for a minute to ask you how you were feeling, Jim.' Ellery draped himself against the bathroom jamb.

Jim turned, surprised. ‘How did
you
know?'

‘How did
I
know! Don't tell me you don't remember. Why, Pat and I brought you home.'

‘Gosh,' groaned Jim, ‘I wondered about that. Nora won't talk to me. Can't say I blame her. Say, I'm awfully grateful, Smith. Where'd you find me?'

‘Carlatti's place on Route 16. The
Hot Spot
.'

‘That dive?' Jim shook his head. ‘No wonder Nora's sore.' He grinned sheepishly. ‘Was I sick during the night! Nora fixed me up, but she wouldn't say a word to me. What a dumb stunt!'

‘You did some pretty dumb talking on the ride home, too, Jim.'

‘Talking? What did I say?'

‘Oh…something about “getting rid of” some bastard or other,' said Ellery lightly.

Jim blinked. He turned back to the mirror again. ‘Out of my head, I guess. Or else I was thinking of Hitler.' Ellery nodded, his eyes fixed on the razor. It was shaking. ‘I don't remember a damn thing,' said Jim. ‘Not a damn thing.'

‘I'd lay off the booze if I were you, Jim,' said Ellery amiably. ‘Not that it's any of my business, but…well, if you keep saying things like that, people might misunderstand.'

‘Yeah,' said Jim, fingering his shaved cheek. ‘I guess they would at that. Ow, my head! Never again.'

‘Tell that to Nora,' laughed Ellery. ‘Well, morning, Jim.'

‘Morning. And thanks again.'

Ellery left, smiling. But the smile vanished on the landing. It seemed to him that the door to the guest room was open a handsbreadth wider than when he had gone in to talk to Jim.

Mr Queen found it harder and harder to work on his novel. For one thing, there was the weather. The countryside was splashy with reds and oranges and yellowing greens; the days were frost-touched now as well as the nights, hinting at early snows; nights came on swiftly, with a crackle. It was a temptation to roam back-country roads and crunch the crisp dry corpses of the leaves underfoot. Especially after sunset, when the sky dropped its curtains, lights sparkled in isolated farmhouses, and an occasional whinny or howl came from some black barn. Wilcy Gallimard came into town with five truckloads of turkeys and got rid of them in no time. ‘Yes, sir,' said Mr Queen to himself. ‘Thanksgiving's in the air—everywhere except at 460 Hill Drive.'

Then there was Pat, whose recent habit of peering over her own shoulder had become chronic. She clung to Ellery so openly that Hermione Wright began to make secret plans in her head and even John F., who never noticed anything but flaws in mortgages and rare postage stamps, looked thoughtful…It made work very difficult.

But most of all it was watching Jim and Nora without seeming to that occupied Ellery's time. Things were growing worse in the Haight household. For Jim and Nora no longer ‘got along.' There were quarrels so bitter that their impassioned voices flew through the November air all the way across the driveway to the Wright house through closed windows. Sometimes it was about Rosemary; sometimes it was about Jim's drinking; sometimes it was about money. Jim and Nora continued to put up a brave show before Nora's family, but everyone knew what was going on.

‘Jim's got a new one,' reported Pat to Ellery one evening. ‘He's gambling!'

‘Is he?' said Mr Queen.

‘Nora was talking to him about it this morning.' Pat was so distressed she could not sit still. ‘And he admitted it—
shouted
it at her. And in the next breath asked her for money. Nora pleaded with him to tell her what was wrong, but the more Nora pleads the angrier and harder Jim gets. Ellery, I think he's touched. I really do!'