EQMM, September-October 2009

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "Sounds like I'll need a score card to keep track of the players!"

  Butcher grinned. “And a difficult lot they are. The staff were even harder to pry out of the mountains than Bonnie was. Every one of them was dead set against filming the episode and against the trip to Hollywood, but we had to drag them along somehow. Bonnie made it clear that not bringing her people along was a deal breaker. So she's here with her assistant, Charles Roethke, her personal secretary Jerri Swanson, and her, well, ‘spiritual advisor,’ I guess you'd call her. A crazy lady who calls herself ‘Madame Sojourner.’ Dealing with the lot of them has been like herding cats. Roethke and Swanson had a thing for a while, but they're now on the outs and hardly speak to each other. Neither one of them will have anything to do with the card reader, and she reciprocates by treating each of them like lepers."

  "Ty, I hope, travels a little lighter?"

  "Yep. He only brought along his personal assistant, Taylor Brandt, who, by the way, was just as insistent that Ty shouldn't film the episode. Like everyone else, he was pretty happy with the status quo and with Ty staying retired. So you can begin to see the mountains that Rand and I had to move to pull this off."

  Ellery glanced around the bare walls of the kitchen and then eyed his wrist watch. “What time are we supposed to leave for the rehearsals?"

  Butcher smiled and stretched his long arms behind his head. “I have no idea, besides the fact that it's sometime this morning. In this town I never worry about time and schedules. When you're supposed to be somewhere there are always plenty of people to let you know and get you there."

  As if on cue, the door to the kitchen swung open and a tall man with a winning smile strode into the room. He crouched in a mock pose and swung around, his right index finger feigning a six-gun, which he pretended to shoot in the direction of Butcher. The man blinked, blew the imaginary smoke from his finger, transformed the pistol back into a hand, and extended it towards Ellery.

  "Mr. Queen, it's an honor to meet you. I'm Rand Canyon. Looks like we're going to be working together."

  As Ellery mumbled a greeting, Rand's arms swung out in an all-inclusive gathering gesture. “Time to hit the trail, gents,” he drawled. “Everyone else is already at the studio and our car is waiting."

  "See what I mean about this town?” Jacques Butcher said to Ellery with a conspiratorial wink. “There's always someone there to take care of you, and I'm going to prove it to you.” Before he could react, Butcher reached across the table and pulled Ellery's watch off his wrist, deftly pocketing the timepiece. “This is one of my favorite little experiments. You can have your watch back tomorrow. By then you'll understand."

  Rand Canyon rolled his eyes and smiled. “Sorry, Mr. Queen. This is like religion for Jack—he pulls this on everyone who will let him."

  "It's Ellery,” Queen muttered, rubbing his bare left wrist. “Call me Ellery."

  "Oh, by the way,” Rand said, “when I was checking on the car I found this in the front mailbox.” He held out a business envelope bearing Ellery's name in box letters.

  "No address or return address,” Ellery mused, examining the envelope. “How did it get here?"

  Rand Canyon shrugged.

  "There are delivery services all over Hollywood. It's probably from one of your fans,” Jacques Butcher chuckled. Ellery returned the smile and slid the envelope into his inside jacket pocket.

  * * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Ellery, Jacques, and Rand stood behind a bank of cameras on the sound stage at Universal City. Ellery crossed his arms and looked through the cameras, the director, and assorted staff, and admired the New England drawing room in the glow of the stage lights. The tall, gray-haired man dressed as the Mad Hatter was just barely recognizable to Ellery. The years had not been kind to Ty Royle. As Ellery watched, Ty turned to the other cast members and spoke.

  "You can't take more or less when nothing is very easy at all,” he stammered.

  An exasperated “Cut!” exploded from the man with tired, stooped shoulders sitting in a collapsible chair next to the cameras. “Mr. Royle,” he muttered through hands that Ellery surmised were burying his face, “once again, the line is, ‘You can't take less; it's very easy to take more than nothing.’ That's the way Lewis Carroll wrote it, and that's the way you have to say it."

  Ty threw his outrageous hat to the floor. “The damned line makes no sense. No sense at all,” he snorted.

  Across the set, a figure dressed as a door mouse removed its mask, revealing still-golden locks, and suddenly became Bonnie Stuart. Bonnie crossed the set towards Ty, as Ellery stared transfixed. The loveliness of her youth had not diminished; it had matured into a jewel even more precious. Images of pre-war Hollywood flashed through his mind, a hundred memories of things gone from the world, but still a part of his. He wiped an errant tear, shook the sepia memories from his head, and watched as Bonnie Stuart wrapped a loving arm around Ty Royle, all the while explaining that everything was just fine, that it always was, and that it always would be.

  "My God,” Ellery thought, stunned. “They're in love."

  The man in the collapsible chair sighed and called out, “Break! Back on the set in fifteen minutes.” Ellery began picking his way through the cameras and cables.

  "Ellery,” Bonnie enthused when she saw him, offering a cheek, “you are a treat for sore eyes."

  Ty grinned awkwardly, looking totally uncomfortable in his Mad Hatter attire. He extended a thin, dry hand and muttered, “Good to see you again, Queen."

  But before Ellery could offer more than a perfunctory greeting, a young NBC page was at his elbow explaining that a conference on script changes was about to begin.

  Bonnie smiled as Ellery stammered an apology while being dragged away. “Don't worry,” she called after him. “There will be plenty of time for us to catch up this evening. I'm...” and she paused, “actually Ty and I are hosting a little soirée at the house where we're all staying. We'll expect you promptly at six o'clock for cocktails and a buffet dinner in the parlor. This will be such fun!"

  * * * *

  In fact, Ellery had seldom seen a sorrier soirée. Bonnie's secretary, Jerri Swanson, a pretty young thing with long brown hair, had spent the evening sulking on the sofa, nursing a drink, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, and staring daggers at tall, thin, and elegant Charles Roethke, Bonnie's assistant, across the room. Charles and Taylor Brandt fawned respectively over Bonnie and Ty and were uniformly ignored by each. And Madame Sojourner, who had, Ellery had come to understand from Jacques, a scant fifteen months before, miraculously ascended from working the checkout line at a Piggly Wiggly in Clarinda, Iowa, swirled about the room in layers of multicolored silk wrappings, warning everyone in her ambit of things that only she could see. Through it all, Bonnie and Ty stared into each others’ eyes, oblivious.

  Early on, Ellery had embarked on shuttle diplomacy, moving from person to person in hopes of generating something approaching cocktail-hour banter. He eventually forsook the task as hopeless and retreated to a large velvet couch where Madame Sojourner cornered him and proceeded to wax eloquent on the length of his lifeline. Unimaginably to Ellery, things progressed from bad to worse.

  Bonnie stood, tapped her champagne flute with a fork, and waited for the room to quiet. She smiled nervously and spoke. “These last few days,” she stammered, blinking and edging next to Ty for support, “have been a whirlwind. Being here in Hollywood again, and being with Ty—” she glanced up adoringly before continuing—"I, well ... I certainly thought I'd never act again. And certainly not with Ty.” She reached tentatively for his hand and continued, “But as it turns out, I can't thank Jacques and Rand enough for insisting that I ... that we do this. Ty and I, well, it's been years and we really don't even know why we...” She stopped, at a loss for words, sniffed into her handkerchief, and looked up imploringly at Ty, who broke the silence. Still holding her hand, he smiled, brushed the gray shock of hair from his eyes, and gazed
out across the room. Ellery marveled that he suddenly seemed to shed ten years.

  "Bonnie and I,” Ty announced sheepishly, “are going to be married."

  "Again!” Bonnie giggled. “And we're moving back to Hollywood!"

  Behind Ellery someone gagged, several breaths were quickly drawn in, and Jerri Swanson's plate dropped, scattering lasagna and boiled shrimp on the floor. The room froze in awkward silence for a long moment before Ellery stood, cleared his throat, and offered congratulations, quickly followed by Jacques and Rand, and then, as the dam finally broke, by the others in the room. It was long minutes later that Jacques Butcher caught Ellery's eye and the two slipped out of the room.

  * * * *

  In retreat in the first-floor library, Ellery exhaled long as Jacques Butcher poured scotch into two tumblers and handed one to Ellery.

  "I can't tell you how much I wish I was in a hotel,” Ellery groaned. “What was that all about anyway?"

  Jacques settled into a leather chair across from Ellery. “I suppose,” he said, “it was about change. Jerri and Charles have carved out a decent life working for Bonnie. And, God knows, that Sojourner character has certainly landed on easy street. The same goes for Taylor Brandt, Ty's assistant. And every one of those apple carts just tipped over. Bonnie's people kept saying they were only concerned for her health, that a trip back to Hollywood couldn't turn out well, but I suspect they were much more concerned with anything that might destroy their comfortable cocoons. Probably it was the same with Taylor Brandt. In fact,” and Jacques paused uneasily, “rumor has it that Taylor and Ty may actually be a little more than just friends. Anyway, I don't think any of them is looking forward to this pending marriage."

  Ellery put down his drink as something rustled in his inner jacket pocket. He reached in and pulled out the envelope, still unopened, that he had pocketed that morning. “I had forgotten about this,” he snorted as he opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Ellery's eyebrows knotted as he read.

  Across the room Jacques Butcher watched inquiringly until Ellery finally shook his head and handed the sheet to him. “What, pray tell, do you make of this?"

  Butcher proceeded to read out loud the typewritten poem on the sheet of paper.

  * * * *

  EAGER EYE AND WILLING EAR

  —

  Tunnels for hares

  Red garb for the guard,

  Insolent Cheshire,

  Poems—quite hard.

  —

  Rehearsals, intriguing

  "Eat me” (your fill)

  "Quite curious,” thought Alice

  Until she fell ill.

  —

  In just the beginning the

  Red King's asleep.

  "Enough of that subject,"

  Dumpty yells ‘fore his leap.

  —

  No chance to succeed with

  One there, alone.

  Chances are better

  Having two on the throne.

  —

  A warning, in verse,

  No time to ignore

  Completed, we stand

  Entirely restored!

  —

  Synergistic solutions from lessons of yore.

  * * * *

  "What's this all about?” Butcher asked incredulously. “Is this something from Alice in Wonderland?"

  "I don't think so,” said Ellery. “It appears to derive from Lewis Carroll, but I think it's a pastiche of some sort.” Ellery puzzled over the page for a few minutes and then his eyes widened and he laughed in amazement. “I'll be right back,” he said. “I need to get something from my room."

  When Ellery returned he carried a volume, The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll, under his arm. He sat down again and asked, “Are you a fan of Carroll?"

  "As a kid, I suppose. Not recently,” Butcher responded.

  "Lewis Carroll,” Ellery continued “was the pseudonym of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, a mathematician who wrote both Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Dodgson denied that either book was written with a real Alice in mind, but there is a poem near the end of Through the Looking-Glass that belies that denial.” Ellery thumbed through the volume, located a page containing a poem, and pushed the book towards Butcher. “Carroll's poem has no title, but the fifth line is the title of this poem: ‘Eager Eye and Willing Ear.’ And do you know what was particularly famous about this untitled poem?"

  Butcher shook his head.

  "The poem is famous,” Ellery continued, “because it is an acrostic. If you read down the first letter of each line it reveals the name of the real Alice: Alice Pleasance Liddell. So, Jack, tell me: Applying the same formula, what does this poem reveal to us?"

  Jacques Butcher studied the poem and emitted a low whistle. “Read down,” he said, “the first letter of each line spells out ‘trip required no chances.'” He shook his head in bewilderment as though trying to clear cobwebs. “But what does this have to do with anything?"

  "I'm damned if I know,” Ellery replied. “The poem alludes to the works of Carroll. And the references to the desirability of two people working together rather than apart, that could be relevant to the re-pairing of Ty and Bonnie in the ‘Mad Tea Party’ episode. You've already explained the effort it took to get them to agree to this, and that everyone around them was dead set against the plan and the trip to Hollywood. The acrostic might be addressing this—it advises that, in fact, the ‘trip required no chances.’ But the obvious question remains ‘So what?’ Bonnie and Ty are here. We are about to film. Who would construct something this elaborate, after the fact, and then send it to me?"

  "You've got me,” Butcher replied.

  "Ahh, well,” Ellery sighed. “It's probably just someone's idea of a joke.” Ellery folded the paper and returned it to his pocket. “Let's take a look at those script changes."

  * * * *

  Ellery and Jacques were lost in the script when Rand eventually entered the library. He smiled and shook his head. “Seems like I'm still the babysitter for you two. This week's Ellery Queen episode is on in a few minutes. I think it's the one about the elevator murder. Wouldn't want to miss that,” he enthused. Reaching for the phone at the bar, Rand continued, “Just enough time to take care of this.” Lifting the phone, he dialed and after a few seconds spoke into the receiver. “Hello, Jerri? Rand here. Ty asked me to call and let Bonnie know he's not up to working on the script any more tonight. Said to give her his love and tell her that he will see her tomorrow."

  Rand hung up the phone and busied himself at the bar. "Voila," he exclaimed after a few seconds as a wall of books across from Ellery and Jacques slid back, revealing a television console. Rand turned on the television and settled onto the couch next to Ellery just as the TV Ellery Queen intoned, “In a few minutes this newspaper publisher will become an obituary notice.” For the next hour Queen watched, with growing embarrassment, as Jim Hutton proceeded to piece together faster than Ellery could why a dying man, alone in an elevator, would push the sixth- and fifth-floor buttons before he expired.

  At the end of the episode, Jacques Butcher rose from his chair, and stretched and yawned simultaneously. Rand Canyon crossed the room, turned off the television, and pushed the button sliding the bookshelves back across the television alcove. “Well, I didn't figure out who did it. How about you, Ellery?” Queen shook his head, his embarrassment persisting. Jacques waved a languorous hand and excused himself for the evening. It was not until Ellery and Rand were themselves headed back toward their rooms that all Hell broke lose.

  Walking down the deserted hallway, Ellery and Rand were confronted by Jacques, who approached them with a troubled look on his face.

  "Nobody seems to know where Bonnie is,” he muttered. He glanced at Rand. “She got your message but, according to Jerri, she decided to go to Ty's room anyway and hasn't come back."

  "Perhaps,” Ellery offered delicately, “this is a personal matter?"

 
"Maybe, but no one is answering Ty's phone. I'm going to take a look."

  Wordlessly, Ellery and Rand fell in step as the threesome crossed the entryway, climbed the circular staircase to the second floor, and proceeded to Ty Royle's room at the end of the corridor. It was the sight of the half-ajar door that precipitated the first shiver of trepidation at the nape of Ellery Queen's neck.

  Jacques eased the door open as the three men gasped in unison. Ty Royle was lying on the bed in a silk dressing gown. A small bullet hole, surrounded by a good deal of blood, flared like a flower from the center of his chest. Jacques rushed to Ty's side and, in an effort Ellery recognized immediately as doomed, began feeling for a pulse as Rand Canyon grabbed for the phone next to the bed.

  Queen took a deep breath, shook his head, and resorted to instincts. He walked the circumference of the room, checked the closet, peered beneath the bed, and then slowly began a trek back down the hall, testing each of the locked doors along the way. At the second-floor foyer he bent, examined the slick marble floor, and then began a slow descent down the winding stairs. At the foot of the staircase he found what he had missed before—a red pool behind and slightly to the left of the first step. Slowly Ellery raised his eyes across the foyer toward a closet door, also ajar. With trepidation he crossed the foyer and pushed the closet open with the toe of his shoe.

  Inside, lying on the floor in her own pool of blood, was Bonnie Stuart. Ellery pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted, as if to ward off the gathering storm of the headache building behind his eyes. The figure on the floor gagged, drew in a ragged breath, and Ellery, shocked back to his senses, bolted for the nearest telephone.

  * * * *

  Later, Ellery stood in the driveway with Jacques and Rand as the ambulance sped away. He glanced back toward the front door of the mansion as a tall, disheveled, overweight man lumbered toward them. The sight was almost surrealistic, like watching a large bear walking upright in a rumpled trenchcoat. As the man approached, Jacques and Rand looked up as well.