The Player on the Other Side (9 page)

‘Hold it.' Ellery had sat up abruptly. ‘I must have been thinking of something else when you mentioned stamp collections a while back. Robert York — sure! His philatelic holdings are supposed to be quite remarkable. He was one of the best-known collectors in New York. That means this Tom Archer has his hands on some mighty negotiable valuables —'

‘Sure has,' grinned the Inspector. ‘He could tuck one measly little stamp in an old envelope and walk off with eight, ten grand. That's why we're watching him. Though it isn't likely he'd try it. You can bet that a man who kept an inventory of his collar buttons — that's right, our Robert still used collar buttons! — wouldn't leave his rare stamps around like old confetti. His executors — a bank, by the way — have a list of every last stamp Robert ever bought or sold, and it's up to date.'

‘Check,' Ellery said, shrugging. ‘Does Archer get anything out of Robert York's death?'

‘Not as far as I know. He got a raise in pay only a week or so ago, when Robert gave him power of attorney to handle the nuts-and-bolts details of running York Square — with the others' consent, of course. In fact, Emily and Percival — and technically Myra — want Archer to keep on in that capacity. He seems capable enough, and happy in his job.'

‘How happy?'

‘You mean about the murder of Robert? No, that seems to have shaken Archer up. I'd say he came closer to
liking
Robert than anybody else we've talked to.'

‘Watch him, then,' said Ellery. ‘Who's left? Oh, the handyman — Walt. What about him?'

‘Speaks when he's spoken to, can do anything in the way of manual work, couldn't possibly be as dumb as he looks and acts. Takes care of everything around the place except what the housekeeper does.'

‘And the housekeeper? What's her name — Mrs. Schriver?'

Inspector Queen shook his head. ‘A housekeeper. Helps Myra York's companion — Ann Drew — with heavy cleaning once a week, straightens up Percival's place twice a week, used to cook and clean for Robert every day. Neither Mrs. Schriver nor Walt stands to gain so much as a second-hand salami by Robert's death — or anyone else's, far as I can make out.'

‘Leaving the girl.'

‘Ah, the girl,' the old man said with a wistful nod.' Wait till you see that girl, Ellery —'

‘You're not going to get me that way,' Ellery said, snorting. Again he stared down at the J-card. Suddenly he looked up. ‘Wait a minute! I'm really rusty. When you showed me this card … did you or didn't you say something about its being the first one?'

‘Hm?' said the Inspector. ‘Oh! That's right.'

Ellery was glaring at him. ‘You mean there's been a
second
card?'

‘Didn't I mention that?' the old man asked innocently. He dug into the other pocket, pulled out another five-sided white card, laid it delicately before his son.

It, too, bore a letter of the alphabet.

An H.

Part Two

Middle Game

10

Attack Continued

He had sat alone in the cheap hotel room watching slit-eyed and lipless the steady pistons of his index fingers laying word after careful word down on the pale blue lines of the copy paper.

He had written, in part:

… to tell you, as I promised, why I write My Dear Walt. Each word I write means something, and when I write those words they mean something precious and special.

‘My' means you are mine, my creature and my property. You of all people will glory in this, for you understand how mighty are the meek, and that they shall inherit the earth. Let the tall grasses hold up their arrogant heads for the scythe to take. Be little and brown and unnoticed, and you will be alive under the sun's eye when they, the tall ones, have been bundled away.

And ‘Dear' means, above all, ‘chosen' for I speak like this to no other living soul. It means ‘valued.' It means ‘trusted.' And most of all it means ‘invulnerable,' for no one can harm you under my protection.

Last and greatest … ‘Walt'. ‘Walt' means you, My Dear Walt, you, unique, gifted with grace in obedience, fated to command while invisible — dispenser of life and of death.

Now there is a small quiet thing to be done perfectly, and so I call upon you.

In the envelope with this letter you will find a second card. As before, you will practice with the printing set until you are sure of a clear impression.

You will then print the letter H exactly like this:

being sure that the diagonal side of the card is at the lower right. You will note that the H in your printing set has a crossbar that is above the center of the letter. Be very careful to print it as you see it in my drawing, for if you were to print it upside down, with the crossbar low, it would be wrong and unworthy of you.

When you have done this, seal the card in a plain envelope as before, and address it (in the same neat plain capital letters you used the first time) to:

EMILY YORK

YORK SQUARE

NEW YORK, N. Y.

Put a stamp on it. Destroy any traces of your work on your table, hands or anywhere in your room. Dispose of this letter and envelope as you did the last time.

Then go out and mail the new letter, following my original instructions.

I feel your gratitude, My Dear Walt. I know how grateful you are to me for having chosen you.

I am pleased with you.

Y

11

Development

‘One thing is clear,' said Ellery, poking the two white cards with a troubled fingertip. ‘This one with the J is the shape of Robert York's corner of York Square, the southwest corner; and Robert got the J-card and was killed. And this one with the H must represent the
northwest
corner, Emily's, because Emily got the H-card —'

‘My dear son, do I need you to tell me that?' the old man asked wearily. ‘And if it's protection for Emily you're worried about, I doubled the foot patrol for the entire neighborhood, and I have a prowl car hitting the Square itself every twenty minutes, day and night.'

‘I hope that's enough.'

‘You'd like me to put somebody inside? Then you figure out a way. Emily York has an exaggerated idea of what would happen to her with a man in the house. Absolutely put her foot down.'

‘Virgin territory, eh?' Ellery shook his head, frowning. ‘There's another thing that would bother me if I were you. The attempt on her life may be planned to take place not in the Square or in her house but somewhere else.'

‘You think I should have her tailed,' Inspector Queen said dryly.

‘I most certainly do.'

‘Well, so do I!' the Inspector snapped. ‘I had Hesse tailing her when she left for work yesterday morning. You know what? — Hesse can't get over it yet — she spotted him in three minutes and gave him the slip! Seems Emily thought he might be “after” her. When I told Miss Eagle-Eye that Hesse is a detective assigned to protect her, you know what she said to me? “I'm not taking chances on
anybody.
” She's a holy terror, that woman. We'll do our best, but you know how tough it is to guard somebody who won't co-operate.'

Ellery looked unhappy. ‘I suppose you drew a blank on fingerprints?'

‘Blank? The J-card has everybody's prints on it. Seems the late Robert passed it around at the last monthly powwow of the tribe, where they sweat out who owes how much for the garbage men tips. He even let the housekeeper and the handyman handle it.'

‘Paper, card, envelope, type, ink, et cetera?' Ellery murmured.

‘No sweat. You could duplicate the paper, envelope and card within spitting distance of the Square — or in any five-and-dime or stationery store in the U.S.A. Lab doesn't hold out much hope about the block-letter address. The rubber-stamp type and ink come from a kid's toy printing set called Prints Charming that's been a standard item for years. It's sold by the thousands all over town.'

‘Great,' muttered Ellery. ‘And the H-card mailing —'

‘Emily York's prints, of course. And a Miss Sullivan's. And a couple of smudged partials that may or may not belong to somebody else. And Ann Drew's — in her case just on the envelope. Don't look so happy. The girl happened to bring the Square's mail up from the Church Street post office. Dropped that particular envelope off at Emily's house, and Emily took it to work with her.'

‘A Miss Sullivan,' said Ellery. ‘Who's Miss Sullivan?'

‘Ah,' sighed the Inspector. ‘I was coming to that.'

It was Miss Sullivan (Inspector Queen informed Ellery) who had told him of Emily York's plans for the settlement-house development. Miss Sullivan ran the place, a converted brownstone, its grand past barely hinted at by the time-chipped interior, condemned for life to the seething street the city had long since abandoned to its fate.

‘I can't really tell you anything about it,' Miss Sullivan said when the Inspector (following a surmise, an overheard remark and sheer logic) asked her whether Emily York's imminent bonanza would change things at the settlement house.

‘Why not, Miss Sullivan?'

Her voice was sanded only at the margins by the abrasives of time. Yet she was surely in her mid-seventies. She breathed with a difficulty not surprising in view of her bulk, which her birdy-quick skeleton and tiny feet must have found a fearful burden. Her nose was extraordinary; the Inspector wondered if she knew how fatefully it must have affected her lifelong tenure on the ‘Miss.' Her innocence of glasses was explained by neither contact lenses nor vanity; and this was a great boon, for after the first few moments he conversed only with the warm, shy, joyful little person who dwelt inside her eyes. They were of a clean-bleached blue, with a snapping washline quality, like summer linen of the softest, highest grade laundered and set out to dry daily in the sun over a lifetime.

‘You see, I know nothing about it.' But Miss Sullivan's remarkable eyes were saying happily,
But I do, I do!
And when the Inspector refused to accept that spoken denial and merely stood waiting quietly for more, it was as if the little person inside darted to the right, to the left, hunting something to hide behind — not at all fearfully, but
Catch me! Catch me!
like a laughing child running off with a present which was not hers at all.

‘I mean, Miss York wouldn't want me to say a word,' she said; and still the Inspector waited, applying no pressure, the small smile on his lips genuine, evoked by the pleasure of her secret. ‘And I've promised, Inspector, really I have.'

‘If you told me,' he asked gently, ‘are you afraid she'd change her mind about whatever it is she intends to do with the money?'

‘Oh, dear, no! Not Emily York! It means too much to her.'

The Inspector said craftily, ‘She's a fine woman.' They beamed at each other. ‘I overheard something,' he added, ‘when I came in. In that room to the left of the entrance?' The room to the left of the entrance was a sort of stable for the idle, the beaten, the sodden, the rudderless human hulks of the neighborhood.

‘You mean in the reading room?' said Miss Sullivan.

‘In the reading room,' he nodded. ‘One of the men wanted to leave and go down to the Seaman's Mission for a meal and a bed, but another one told him to stay put and make himself known to you ladies, because big things were going to happen around here soon and you'd need their help.' (This was his freehand translation of the bum who had said, ‘I'm cuttin' this cave, it gives me the goddamn itch. Let's go Sea-Missy and pray us some slops and a shelf' And of his one-eyed adviser who had pulled him back on the bench and said, ‘Jest you set smile and give 'em a good pitch. Git acquainted here. The Vinegar Virgin gone come th'oo thet door one time soon pushin' a buggy full o' gold bars. You best be in line, man, 'cause she gone buy us a hotel in the country. Ev'body knows that.')

‘Oh, yes, some of them would do, well, just anything for Emily York,' said Miss Sullivan. ‘I wonder how they heard?

‘It isn't really going to be a hotel, then?'

‘Dear me, no!'

‘They'll be disappointed,' said the Inspector, shaking his head. ‘That's what the poor fellows think it's going to be.'

‘Well, it
isn't
,' she said firmly, and the one inside said pleadingly with her eyes,
Ask me! Ask me!

But — ‘They'll really be disappointed,' he said, and half turned toward the door.

‘Oh, but they won't. Oh, dear, must you —? Please!' Her little hands fluttered and caught each other and trembled together. He thought: Those hands belong to the eyes. ‘Please shut the door.' He shut it carefully. She said, ‘I
can
trust you …?' and the eyes said,
Please? Please?