The Roman Hat Mystery (18 page)

“
Ah, the opportunities of our good minions of the law!
”
murmured Ellery, head bent over a small lacquered vase.

“
Anyway,
”
continued the detective,
“
I got my hands on her and she yelped
―
plenty. Hustled her into the living room here where she
’
d put on the light, and took a good look at her. She was scared blue but she was kind of plucky, too, because she began to cuss me and she wanted to know who in hell I was, what I was tryin
’
to do in a woman
’
s apartment at night, and all that sort of stuff. I flashed my badge. And Inspector, that hefty Sheba
―
the minute she sees the badge, she shuts up tight like a bluepoint and won
’
t answer a question I ask her!
”

“
Why was that?
”
The old man
’
s eyes roved from floor to ceiling as he looked over the appointments of the room.

“
Hard to tell, Inspector,
”
said Ritter.
“
First she seemed scared, but when she saw my badge she bucked up wonderful. And the longer I was here the more brazen she became.
”

“
You didn
’
t tell her about Field, did you?
”
queried the Inspector, in a sharp, low tone.

Ritter gave his superior a reproachful glance.
“
Not a peep out o
’
me, sir,
”
he said.
“
Well, when I saw it was no go tryin
’
to get anything out of her
―
all she
’
d yell was,
‘
Wait till Monte gets home, you bozo!
’―
I took a look at the bedroom. Nobody there, so I shoved her inside, kept the door open and the light on and stayed all night. She climbed into bed after a while and I guess she went to sleep. At about seven this morning she popped out and started to yell all over again. Seemed to think that Field had been grabbed by headquarters. Insisted on having a newspaper. I told her nothin
’
doin
’
and then phoned the office. Not another thing happened since.
”

“
I say, Dad!
”
exclaimed Ellery suddenly, from a corner of the room.

“
What do you think our legal friend reads
―
you
’
ll never guess.
‘
How to Tell Character from Handwriting
’
!
”

The Inspector grunted as he rose.
“
Stop fiddling with those eternal books,
”
he said,
“
and come along.
”

He flung open the bedroom door. The woman was sitting cross-legged on the bed, an ornate affair of a bastard French period style, canopied and draped from ceiling to floor with heavy damask curtains. Hagstrom leaned stolidly against the window.

Queen looked quickly about. He turned to Ritter.
“
Was that bed mussed up when you came in here last night
―
did it look as if it had been slept in?
”
he whispered aside.

Ritter nodded.
“
All right, then, Ritter,
”
said Queen in a genial tone.
“
Go home and get some rest. You deserve it. And send up Piggott on your way out.
”
The detective touched his hat and departed.

Queen turned on the woman. He walked to the bed and sat down beside her, studying her half-averted face. She lit a cigarette defiantly.

“
I am Inspector Queen of the police, my dear,
”
announced the old man mildly.
“
I warn you that any attempt to keep a stubborn silence or lie to me will only get you into a heap of trouble. But there! Of course you understand.
”

She jerked away.
“
I
’
m not answering any questions, Mr. Inspector, until I know what right you have to ask
‘
em. I haven
’
t done anything wrong and my slate
’
s clean. You can put that in your pipe and smoke it!
”

The Inspector took a pinch of snuff, as if the woman
’
s reference to the vile weed had reminded him of his favorite vice. He said:
“
That
’
s fair enough,
”
in dulcet tones.
“
Here you are, a lonely woman suddenly tumbled out of bed in the middle of the night
―
you
were
in bed, weren
’
t you
―
?
”

“
Sure I was,
”
she flashed instantly, then bit her lip.

“―
and confronted by a policeman . . . . I don
’
t wonder you were frightened, my dear.
”

“
I was not!
”
she said shrilly.

“
We
’
ll not argue about it,
”
rejoined the old man benevolently.
“
But certainly you have no objection to telling me your name?
”

“
I don
’
t know why I should but I can
’
t see any harm in it,
”
retorted the woman.
“
My name is Angela Russo
―
Mrs. Angela Russo
―
and I
’
m, well, I
’
m engaged to Mr. Field.
”

“
I see,
”
said Queen gravely.
“
Mrs. Angela Russo and you are engaged to Mr. Field. Very good! And what were you doing in these rooms last night, Mrs. Angela Russo?
”

“
None of your business!
”
she said coolly.
“
You
’
d better let me go now
―
I haven
’
t done a thing out of the way. You
’
ve got no right to jabber at me, old boy!
”

Ellery, in a corner peering out of the window, smiled. The Inspector leaned over and took the woman
’
s hand gently.

“
My dear Mrs. Russo,
”
he said,
“
believe me
―
there is every reason in the world why we should be anxious to know what you were doing here last night. Come now
―
tell me.
”

“
I won
’
t open my mouth till I know what you
’
ve done with Monte!
”
she cried, shaking off his hand.
“
If you
’
ve got him, why are you pestering me! I don
’
t know anything.
”

“
Mr. Field is in a very safe place at the moment,
”
snapped the Inspector, rising,
“
I
’
ve given you plenty of rope, madam. Monte Field is dead.
”

“
Monte
―
Field
―
is
―”
The woman
’
s lips moved mechanically. She leaped to her feet, clutching the negligee to her plump figure, staring at Queen
’
s impassive face.

She laughed shortly and threw herself back on the bed.
“
Go on
―
you
’
re taking me for a ride,
”
she jeered.

“
I
’
m not accustomed to joking about death,
”
returned the old man with a little smile.
“
I assure you that you may take my word for it-Monte Field is dead.
”
She was staring up at him, her lips moving soundlessly.
“
And what is more, Mrs. Russo, he has been murdered. Perhaps now you
’
ll deign to answer my questions. Where were you at a quarter to ten last night?
”
he whispered in her ear, his face close to hers.

Mrs. Russo relaxed limply on the bed, a dawning fright in her large eyes. She gaped at the Inspector, found little comfort in his face and with a cry whirled to sob into the rumpled pillow. Queen stepped back and spoke in a low tone to Piggott, who had come into the room a moment before. The woman
’
s heaving sobs subsided suddenly. She sat up, dabbing her face with a lace handkerchief. Her eyes were strangely bright.

“
I get you now,
”
she said in a quiet voice.
“
I was right here in this apartment at a quarter to ten last night.
”

“
Can you prove that, Mrs. Russo?
”
asked Queen fingering his snuffbox.

“
I can
’
t prove anything and I don
’
t have to,
”
she returned dully.
“
But if you
’
re looking for an alibi, the doorman downstairs must have seen me come into the building at about nine-thirty.
”

“
We can easily check that up,
”
admitted Queen.
“
Tell me
―
why did you come here last night at all?
”

“
I had an appointment with Monte,
”
she explained lifelessly.
“
He called me up at my own place yesterday afternoon and we made a date for last night. He told me he
’
d be out on business until about ten o
’
clock, and I was to wait here for him. I come up
”―
she paused and continued brazenly
―”
I come up quite often like that. We generally have a little
‘
time
’
and spend the evening together. Being engaged
―
you know.
”

“
Ummm. I see, I see.
”
The Inspector cleared his throat in some embarrassment.
“
And then, when he didn
’
t come on time
―
?
”

“
I thought he might
’
ve been detained longer than he
’
d figured. So I
―
well, I felt tired and took a little nap.
”

“
Very good,
”
said Queen quickly.
“
Did he tell you where he was going, or the nature of his business?
”

“
No.
”

“
I should be greatly obliged to you, Mrs. Russo,
”
said the Inspector carefully,
“
if you would tell me what Mr. Field
’
s attitude was toward theatre-going.
”

The woman looked at him curiously. She seemed to be recovering her spirits.
“
Didn
’
t go very often,
”
she snapped.
“
Why?
”

The Inspector beamed.
“
Now, that
’
s a question, isn
’
t it?
”
he asked. He motioned to Hagstrom, who pulled a notebook out of his pocket.

“
Could you give me a list of Mr. Field
’
s personal friends?
”
resumed Queen.
“
And any business acquaintances you might know of?
”