EQMM, May 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  Harry Burke therefore was not surprised when an attractive dark-haired woman in her late thirties, dressed bookishly in slacks, an oxford shirt, and a twill jacket, anxiously approached them in the lobby. But before she could speak, the old man in the foursome placed a gentle hand on her forearm. She looked at him uncomprehendingly at first, but then her eyes widened in shocked recognition.

  "Elise,” Ellery said, “do you remember me? I am afraid it's been a good many years."

  "Mr. Queen ... Ellery ... What are you doing here?"

  "Either helping out the authorities or getting in their way. Presently I don't know which. It may depend on one's perspective.” He cocked his head to one side, narrowed his eyes appraisingly, and smiled. “Your father would have been proud. You have grown into a splendid young woman."

  "Not as young as all that.” She paused and smiled. “I'm glad you're here. I'm a bit frantic. I've been trying to reach Quinn since yesterday, and then I got the call to meet the police here. I don't know what this is all about, but I'd do anything for my brother. He's all the family I have left. I owe him my life. If anything happened to him..."

  Santos broke in impatiently. “Right now, if you don't mind, we need to get upstairs."

  The elevator deposited them in a long corridor carpeted in frayed Oriental patterns. Halfway down the hall Elise stopped, fumbled for a key, and opened the door of an apartment, revealing a large, comfortably furnished living room. As they stepped inside, Ellery's eyes widened and he caught the same expression on Harry Burke's face. This time they both smelled it.

  A fast survey revealed the source. In the bathroom adjacent to the apartment's single bedroom, in a tub filled with blood-tinged water, floated the body of Dr. Quinn Djuna, both wrists slit. Ellery sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose just as Elise began to scream.

  * * * *

  Part 2: Out of Retirement

  Several weeks later, Harry Burke stood in front of the still-familiar brownstone on West 87th Street shaking his head. The disconnect was surreal—like suddenly being in the company of a relative long since departed. For a period of a few hectic weeks, many years before, he had practically lived here. Harry sighed, squared his shoulders, and climbed the stairs to the front door.

  Once inside the apartment his feeling of disconnect remained. The room was virtually unchanged. Over the fireplace the sabers were still crossed; the Thiraud portrait still stared with eyes that reached every corner of the room. And then there was Ellery—Harry could still find the face of his friend in this old man, but his aspect now also reminded him of the inspector.

  "Harry, it's good to see you again.” Ellery smiled from across the room, beckoning Burke to a chair as Nikki closed the front door and retreated to the kitchen for coffee. “I take it that together you and your partner have made some progress?"

  "Actually, Ellery, Santos and I hardly do anything ‘together.’ We don't see eye-to-eye on much of anything, and this case is no exception. I'm here officially, but I'm also here on my own."

  Ellery raised an inquiring eyebrow and Burke continued. “As far as Santos is concerned, this case is finished. It's a simple murder-suicide, and he may be right. It turns out that Dr. Djuna had a motive to kill Dr. Tenumbra and a reason to take his own life as well. Until recently Djuna was engaged to a rather well-known Long Island socialite, Rhonda St. Regis. The engagement ended rather badly several weeks ago, and it was Dr. Djuna's partner, Dr. Tenumbra, who became, shall we say, the third side of the triangle.

  "Apparently Tenumbra's collector proclivities went beyond detective stories. Over the years he gained quite a reputation as a ladies’ man. He spent the last few months pursuing his partner's fiancée. St. Regis might have been one in a string to him, but she was apparently a lot more to Dr. Djuna. Djuna was already prone to depression. After the breakup, he fell apart. The staff at their offices report that he and Tenumbra quarreled openly during the last few weeks, and that Djuna seemed to become more and more unglued."

  "So,” Ellery interjected, “you have motive. What about opportunity?"

  "In spades. Both doctors occasionally saw patients in the office Tenumbra maintained at his apartment. So Djuna had his own electronic key to the apartment—easy access whenever he needed it. And the coroner sets the time of death for both Tenumbra and Djuna sometime between eight and ten Sunday night, completely consistent with a murder followed by a suicide. The stopped clock on the floor of Tenumbra's apartment indicates that he probably died around eight-thirty, which is also consistent with the autopsy findings. Finally, and this does sort of seem to cement it, Dr. Djuna did in fact kill himself. The coroner says that the knife cuts to his wrists, the knife found next to the bathtub with his fingerprints on it, and the absence of signs of any struggle all classically add up to suicide. As far as Stanley Santos figures it, that just about closes the book on the matter."

  Ellery smiled. “But you are still troubled?"

  "You bet. My book's still open. Or maybe I should say your books are still open, and lying on the apartment floor. I can't get that out of my head. What were they doing on the floor? And why did Tenumbra have that note from you crumpled in his hand?"

  Harry shuffled through his briefcase until he located a piece of paper that he handed to Ellery.

  "This is the list of the books—chronological order, based on publication date. I assume, from the other volumes in Tenumbra's library, that this is also how they were shelved on the bookcase."

  Ellery scanned the neat row of titles, Nikki peering over his shoulder.

  * * * *

  The Roman Hat Mystery

  The French Powder Mystery

  The Dutch Shoe Mystery

  The Greek Coffin Mystery

  The Egyptian Cross Mystery

  The American Gun Mystery

  The Siamese Twin Mystery

  The Adventures of Ellery Queen

  The Chinese Orange Mystery

  The Spanish Cape Mystery

  Halfway House

  The Door Between

  The Devil to Pay

  The Four of Hearts

  The Dragon's Teeth

  The New Adventures of Ellery Queen

  Calamity Town

  There Was an Old Woman

  The Murderer Is a Fox

  The Case Book of Ellery Queen

  Ten Days’ Wonder

  Cat of Many Tails

  Double, Double

  The Origin of Evil

  Calendar of Crime

  The King Is Dead

  The Scarlet Letters

  The Glass Village

  QBI: Queen's Bureau of Investigation

  Inspector Queen's Own Case

  The Finishing Stroke

  The Player on the Other Side

  And on the Eighth Day

  The Fourth Side of the Triangle

  Queens Full

  A Study in Terror

  Face to Face

  The House of Brass

  Cop Out

  QED: Queen's Experiments in Detection

  The Last Woman in His Life

  A Fine and Private Place

  * * * *

  "Interesting,” Ellery murmured, “all of the novels and all of the original short-story collections."

  "But none of the farmed-out books, like those spy novels,” Nikki added. “Who was that character? Tim Corrigan?"

  "Mike McCall,” sniffed Ellery, frowning. “I never should have let Fred and Manny talk me into those licensing arrangements. No, the only works here are the novels and collections that I actually wrote. I wonder, Harry, if I might hold on to this list?"

  "Be my guest. And there's something else you might be interested in. We got this from the concierge.” Harry pulled a second sheet from his briefcase. “This is the list of visitors to Tenumbra's apartment on Sunday and the times they checked in with the concierge."

  Ellery took the paper and read: “Janiel Friedman, 7:15 P.M.; Tabitha DuVal, 7:47 P.M.; Rhonda St. R
egis, 8:18 P.M."

  This time it was Nikki who glanced back at Harry. “Well, Ms. Friedman and Ms. St. Regis we know. Who, pray tell, is Tabitha DuVal?"

  Harry glanced in some embarrassment in the general direction of Nikki and then back toward Ellery. “Tabitha DuVal is an actress. She's only in her mid twenties and already has had a number of well-received shows on Broadway. But for our purposes she is, or more properly ‘was,’ apparently the last in that long string of women Tenumbra was intent on collecting."

  Ellery whistled and then could not stifle a smile. “The last woman in his life, eh? But that volume's on the floor with all the rest,” he mused as he eyed the list of books once again. He turned back to Harry. “So, in the course of one hour Tenumbra was visited by his former wife, the woman who jilted his partner for him, and another woman he was already pursuing?"

  "Exactly. Tenumbra may have been brilliant, handsome, and rich. But he was also, it would appear, a thoroughgoing cad."

  "Tell me,” Ellery asked, “do we have a list indicating when these ladies left the West Park Towers?"

  "No, and there's the rub. All the guests do is check in. After that they're free to leave whenever they want to, and there's no record of when they actually left the building."

  "So any one of these three women could have still been in the building at the time of the murder. Well, Harry, as with the Missouri mule, you've gotten my attention. If you don't mind the company of someone who moves a little slower than you, I think maybe we should pay a visit to each of these ladies. But first I think we ought to set the stage just a bit. Nikki, I wonder if you could see if Elise Djuna is free for lunch today?"

  * * * *

  Ellery, Nikki, and Harry were already seated in the dark restaurant on Amsterdam Avenue, tucked into the shadows of Columbia University, when Elise Djuna was shown to the table.

  "How are you bearing up?” Ellery asked as she seated herself between Nikki and Harry.

  "As well as can be expected, I suppose. Thanks so much, Ellery, for the flowers. Quinn would have appreciated them very much. And thanks to you, too, Harry.” She smiled shyly at Harry Burke, seated to her left. “You have been most kind and patient with me."

  Harry twisted uncomfortably in his seat. “I'm sorry about Santos. He can be awfully brusque sometimes. Everything has to be done yesterday for him."

  "And I apologize as well,” interjected Ellery, “because I am afraid that we also have some questions for you. But let's at least put them off until after lunch."

  Later, over coffee, Ellery cleared his throat and said, “Elise, the police, well, at least Mr. Burke's partner Mr. Santos, have just about closed this case as a murder-suicide, and they may be right. But there are still some troubling aspects to the matter."

  "How can I help?"

  "Perhaps just with some background. As Nikki explained on the telephone, my interest, and I think I can speak for Mr. Burke as well, was piqued by the circumstances surrounding Dr. Tenum—bra's death, the fact that he had a note from me in his hand when he died, and the matter of those books on the floor."

  "Well, I suppose I can shed a little light at least about the books,” Elise said. “When our father died, the books, and everything else, were left to us. Quinn and I were still students at Columbia. Not much was left in the estate after the restaurants were sold. We had to help finance our education by selling off all of Dad's personal belongings, including his library."

  "Is that how your brother met Tenumbra?” Harry asked.

  "No. Actually Quinn and I had both seen Jason professionally over the years. So we both knew him for a long time. Quinn had episodes of depression going all the way back to his childhood. He worked out a lot of issues with Jason over the years. And the process was, I'm certain, what prompted Quinn to pursue a career in psychiatry. So when we needed to sell the library we already had an obvious potential purchaser. Jason prided himself on his detective collection and probably paid us a good deal more than the library would have sold for at auction. He was a big fan of yours, Ellery. He used to say that he wanted to own a first edition of every book that had your name on the spine."

  "So both you and your brother were close to Dr. Tenumbra?” Ellery observed.

  "Well, yes and no. Jason was a brilliant doctor, but not a very nice man. I have barely seen him over the years. Quinn admired Jason, and they practiced together, but Jason was a master at manipulation, and vain and lecherous to boot. No woman was safe from his advances unless she rejected them authoritatively and early on. That's what I did. After that he lost interest in me. But over the years I watched what he did to my brother.

  "Quinn was always sort of timid and unsure of himself. That's why I thought it was so great when he and Rhonda became engaged. Don't get me wrong, Rhonda is a bit of an airhead, but she seemed fun and gregarious and she really brought Quinn out of his shell. It was disgusting when Jason began pursuing her. It might have been just another conquest for him, but it broke Quinn to lose Rhonda.” Elise sighed. “I'm an English professor. I don't know anything at all about psychiatry. But I really thought that Quinn was stronger. I had no idea of the effect that breakup must have had on him until he tried to call me the night he died."

  Ellery's eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to him that night?"

  "No. I wasn't at home when he called. He left a voice message, though, around seven-thirty. He sounded distraught and said he needed to speak to me. I kept trying to call him back, but all I got was his answering machine."

  Ellery reached across the table and patted Elise's hand. “One last thing, Elise. Did you know that at the time of his death Dr. Tenumbra was not only involved with Rhonda St. Regis but was also presumably pursuing someone else?” Ellery fumbled for a scrap of paper in his coat pocket. “A Ms. Tabitha DuVal, an actress on Broadway?"

  "No, I didn't. But it hardly surprises me. Jason Tenumbra never changed. He was always chasing skirts.” She squared her shoulders, as if trying to compose herself. After a few seconds she smiled and looked back across the table. “If that's all, Ellery, I'll thank you for lunch and be off."

  "No thanks are necessary. If we need anything else, can I call you?"

  "Certainly."

  Elise pushed her chair away from the table. At the same time, a bit awkwardly, and blushing, Harry Burke stood too.

  Ellery and Nikki eyed the detective.

  "Ms. Djuna,” he stammered, “has agreed to show me a new collection in the rare-books section of the university library this afternoon."

  Ellery smiled and waved dismissively. “We'll catch up with you later, Harry."

  As the two left Nikki raised a quizzical eyebrow. Ellery smiled back, but all he said was, “Getting back to business, Ms. Porter, where does all of this leave us?"

  "Well,” Nikki responded, “this leaves us with the police theory, your books on the floor, your note, and three women, each of whom was in Tenumbra's apartment just before he was killed."

  "Precisely,” said Ellery. “We know how to proceed, don't we?"

  Nikki hesitated a moment and then looked squarely into Ellery's eyes, her concern evident. “Do you think you're up to this?"

  Ellery sighed, and his voice sounded older when he replied. “I really don't know. Let's just take it one step at a time."

  * * * *

  The executive offices of the Friedman and Norr department-store chain, in the tradition of the 1930s, were still housed on the top floor of the flagship store in Manhattan. Ellery, Nikki, and Harry Burke waited in a sparsely furnished anteroom perched on straight-back chairs arranged around an ancient mahogany coffee table. A door across the room eventually swung open and a young woman in tailored linen announced that Ms. Friedman would see them now.

  Janiel Friedman rose as they entered her corner office. Tall and slender, dressed in a light wool pinstripe business suit, she looked every bit the executive. In her mid fifties, hair long and wound back in a French twist, it was obvious that she meant to personify her reputation a
s the “queen of Forty-second Street.” Gracefully, but with businesslike precision, Friedman gestured for Ellery, Nikki, and Harry to be seated in the chairs arrayed in front of her heavy mahogany desk.

  "Gentlemen, madam, what can I do for you?” she asked as she lowered her frame into the high-backed desk chair.

  It was Harry who began. “As you are aware, Ms. Friedman, the police are investigating the murder of your ex-husband, Dr. Jason Tenumbra."

  "Actually,” Friedman interrupted, “I am not aware of any such fact. First of all, I have already spoken with Detective Santos by telephone and I understand from him that the police investigation is concluded. Further,” and her eyes rested on Ellery and Nikki, “I was not aware that even ongoing police investigations are conducted by task forces that include private citizens."

  Harry bristled. “Whatever Detective Santos may have told you, I can assure you that this visit is part of the police investigation. My name is Harry Burke. I am a detective with the New York City Police Department. I am senior to Mr. Santos. This investigation is most decidedly still open, and I will either speak with you now or later before a grand jury. That choice is yours. And as to my companions, this is Mr. Ellery Queen and his assistant, Ms. Nikki Porter. Mr. Queen has a long-standing relationship with the NYPD but, in any event, the presence of others here today is my decision, not yours.” Harry took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Now, may we continue?"

  Friedman allowed herself a slight sniff, barely discernible. “All right, but please be brief. I have a very busy schedule."

  "We need to know,” continued Harry, “everything about your visit to Dr. Tenumbra's apartment on the night of his murder. According to the building's monitoring system, you signed in to visit Dr. Tenumbra at—” he fumbled for a piece of paper from his briefcase—"exactly seven-fifteen. We would be very interested in hearing what brought you to the West Park Towers that evening."