The Black Hearts Murder (22 page)

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Authors: Ellery Queen

BOOK: The Black Hearts Murder
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“Cordes,” said Sergeant Fenner, straightening up, “is cold mackerel. They're going to have to get themselves a third candidate for their ticket.”

It was almost five
P.M.
by the time McCall had phoned Maggie Kirkpatrick her promised exclusive, Andy Whalen had been booked in central district, and he himself had completed and signed his statement in the detective bureau squadroom.

McCall was not surprised by a message from Chief Condon to stop into the chief's office as soon as he was finished.

McCall found Mayor Potter with Condon in the outer office. Beth McKenna was typing at her desk, trying not to look overjoyed.

The chief's face looked like the map of a mountainous country. “Terrible thing, terrible,” he was rumbling. “Ah, McCall. I tell you, Mr. Mayor, it's going to blast this town apart like an atom bomb. McCall, I asked you in to explain personally to the mayor. I don't want him to have to wait for the official transcript of your statement.”

McCall sat down in the chair beside Beth's desk. “Excuse me for sitting down, Mr. Mayor. I'm a little pooped—”

The old man waved impatiently. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Just my ego.” And McCall gave a laconic account of the day's events. Beth had stopped typing and was listening shamelessly.

“Cordes and that redheaded maintenance engineer of his?” The aged mayor shook his head. “Is there enough evidence to convict Whalen and implicate Cordes as the instigator?”

“I understand that Lieutenant Cox and Sergeant Fenner just found Whalen's black-man outfit in his house, and Whalen's sung like an opera star. It's a wrapup, Mr. Mayor.”

“I still say it's a terrible thing,” Chief Condon growled.

“Why, Chief?” the mayor asked. “It's going to cool off the hothead whites—maybe it will even make some of them feel shame when they learn that it was white men who planned and executed the murder of Gerry Horton and tried to frame a black man for their crime—and it's certainly going to boost the morale of the black community when a white man gets his just deserts for once. Or are you worried, Chief, that this is going to make Jerome Duncan Banbury's next mayor?”

“You don't think that's going to tear this town apart?” the chief cried. “You won't catch me serving under a black mayor!”

“No problem, Chief,” the mayor said dryly. “You can always resign and move to South Africa.”

“Don't think I won't!” Condon shouted. “The way this country's going to hell—” The rest was lost in the slam of his private office door.

“I should have fired him long ago,” the mayor said comfortably. “Oh, Laurel.”

“I finally caught you,” Laurel panted. She had run in carrying a stack of typed letters and envelopes.

“Sorry to make you chase me all over town,” the old man said. “But these letters have to go into the mail tonight.”

“Would you like to use my desk, Mr. Mayor?” Beth asked, rising.

“Thank you.” He sat down with the letters and calmly began to sign them. Laurel stoood by folding and enclosing them in the envelopes as he signed. She had given McCall one brief smile, which vanished when her eyes turned to Beth.

“Well, Mike,” the mayor said, signing away, “I don't suppose, now that the excitement's over, you'll be with us much longer?”

“There's no official reason to linger,” McCall said carefully, “once I phone in my report to Governor Holland.”

“I haven't even had a chance to give you a feed. As a grateful public official I'd like to end my incumbency on a historic note—toasting the man who saved Banbury. Could you possibly make dinner tonight?”

McCall glanced swiftly at Beth, hoping that Laurel would not notice. Beth gave him the briefest understanding nod, releasing him from their date. He could have kissed the old man.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I'd be honored.”

At which Mayor Potter promptly said, “I've already invited a very old lady-friend of mine to dine with me this evening, Mike. So you'd better bring a girl of your own. Do you know any in town?”

McCall shut his eyes against the looks of expectancy in two pairs of lovely feminine eyes, the green and the blue-violet.

How do I get out of this one? he thought. Lucky Sam Holland! What I need is a troubleshooter to solve
my
problems.

Then the solution occurred to him. “I really owe a certain newspaperwoman in town a date,” McCall said.

“Maggie Kirkpatrick,” the mayor nodded. “Nice girl, Mike. And smart. By all means.”

And who knows? McCall thought, smiling at the four furious eyes turned his way. Maybe afterward …

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1970 by Ellery Queen

Copyright renewed by Ellery Queen

Cover design by Kat Lee

ISBN: 978-1-5040-1997-2

This 2015 edition published by
MysteriousPress.com
/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.mysteriouspress.com

www.openroadmedia.com

EBOOKS BY ELLERY QUEEN

FROM
MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA

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