The Roman Hat Mystery (20 page)

Her reply came after a split second of hesitation.
“
Who
’
s he?
”
she asked, her forehead wrinkled into a frown.

Queen stood squarely on the rug. He said sadly,
“
Never mind. Good day,
”
and turned his back on her. The door slammed. A moment later Hagstrom strolled out, leaving Piggott, Queen and Ellery in the apartment.

The three men, as if inspired by a single thought, ran into the bedroom. It was apparently as they had left it. The bed was disordered and Mrs. Russo
’
s nightgown and negligee were lying on the floor. Queen opened the door of the bedroom clothes closet.
“
Whew!
”
said Ellery.
“
This chap had a quiet taste in clothes, didn
’
t he? Sort of Mulberry Street Beau Brummell.
”
They ransacked the closet with no results. Ellery craned his neck at the shelf above.
“
No hats
―
no canes; that settles
that!
”
he murmured with an air of satisfaction. Piggott, who had disappeared into a small kitchen, returned staggering under the burden of a half-empty case of liquor bottles.

Ellery and his father bent over the case. The Inspector removed a cork gingerly, sniffed the contents, then handed the bottle to Piggott, who followed his superior
’
s example critically.

“
Looks and smells okay,
”
said the detective.
“
But I
’
d hate to take a chance tasting this stuff
―
after last night.
”

“
You
’
re perfectly justified in your caution,
”
chuckled Ellery.
“
But if you should change your mind and decide to invoke the spirit of Bacchus, Piggott, let me suggest this prayer: O wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee Death.
”

“
I
’
ll have the firewater analyzed,
”
growled Queen.
“
Scotch and rye mixed, and the labels look like the real thing. But then you never can tell . . . .
”
Ellery suddenly grasped his father
’
s arm, leaning forward tensely. The three men stiffened.

A barely audible scratching came to their ears, proceeding from the foyer.

“
Sounds as if somebody is using a key on the door,
”
whispered Queen.
“
Duck out, Piggott
―
jump whoever it is as soon as he gets inside!
”

Piggott darted through the living room into the foyer. Queen and Ellery waited in the bedroom, concealed from view.

There was utter silence now except for the scraping on the outer door. The newcomer seemed to be having difficulty with the key. Suddenly the rasp of the lock tumblers falling back was heard and an instant later the door swung open. It slammed shut almost immediately.

A muffled cry, a hoarse bull-like voice, Piggott
’
s half-strangled oath, the frenzied shuffling of feet
―
and Ellery and his father were speeding across the living room to the foyer.

Piggott was struggling in the arms of a burly, powerful man dressed in black. A suitcase lay on the floor to one side, as if it had been thrown there during the tussle. A newspaper was fluttering through the air, settling on the parquet just as Ellery reached the cursing men.

It took the combined efforts of the three to subdue their visitor. Finally, panting heavily, he lay on the floor, Piggott
’
s arm jammed tightly across his chest.

The Inspector bent down, gazed curiously into the man
’
s red, angry features and said softly,
“
And who are you, mister?
”

The intruder rose awkwardly to his feet. He was a tall, ponderous man with solemn features and blank eyes. There was nothing distingishing in either his appearance or his manner. If anything unusual could be said of him at all, it was that both his appearance and manner were so unremarkable. It seemed as if, whoever he was or whatever his occupation, he had made a deliberate effort to efface all marks of personality.

“
Just what
’
s the idea of the strong-arm stuff?
”
he said in a bass voice. But even his tones were flat and colorless.

Queen turned to Piggott.
“
What happened?
”
he demanded, with a pretense of severity.

“
I stood behind the door, Inspector,
”
gasped Piggott, still winded,
“
and when this wildcat stepped in I touched him on the arm. He jumped me like a trainload o
’
tigers, he did. Pushed me in the face
―
he
’
s got a wallop, Inspector . . . . Tried to get out the door again.
”

Queen nodded judicially. The newcomer said mildly,
“
That
’
s a lie, sir. He jumped me and I fought back.
”

“
Here, here!
”
murmured Queen.
“
This will never do . . . .
”

The door swung open suddenly and Detective Johnson stood on the threshold. He took the Inspector to one side.
“
Velie sent me down the last minute on the chance you might need me, Inspector . . . . And as I was coming up I saw that chap there. Didn
’
t know but what he might be snooping around, so I followed him up.
”
Queen nodded vigorously.
“
Glad you came
―
I can use you,
”
he muttered and motioning to the others, he led the way into the living room.

“
Now, my man,
”
he said curtly to the big intruder,
“
the show is over. Who are you and what are you doing here?
”

“
My name is Charles Michaels
―
sir. I am Mr. Monte Field
’
s valet.
”
The Inspector
’
s eyes narrowed. The man
’
s entire demeanor had in some intangible manner changed. His face was blank, as before, and his attitude seemed in no way different. Yet the old man sensed a metamorphosis; he glanced quickly at Ellery and saw a confirmation of his own thought in his son
’
s eyes.

“
Is that so?
”
inquired the Inspector steadily.
“
Valet, eh? And where are you going at this hour of the morning with that traveling bag?
”
He jerked his hand toward the suitcase, a cheap black affair, which Piggott had picked up in the foyer and carried into the living room. Ellery suddenly strolled away in the direction of the foyer. He bent over to pick up something.

“
Sir?
”
Michaels seemed upset by the question.
“
That
’
s mine, sir,
”
he confided.
“
I was just going away this morning on my vacation and I
’
d arranged with Mr. Field to come here for my salary check before I left.
”

The old man
’
s eyes sparkled. He had it! Michaels
’
expression and general bearing had remained unchanged, but his voice and enunciation were markedly different.

“
So you arranged to get your check from Mr. Field this morning?
”
murmured the Inspector.
“
That
’
s mighty funny now, come to think of it.
”

Michaels permitted a fleeting amazement to scud across his features.
“
Why
―
why, where is Mr. Field?
”
he asked.

“
‘
Massa
’
s in de cold, cold ground,
’
“
chuckled Ellery, from the foyer. He stepped back into the living room, flourishing the newspaper which Michaels had dropped during the fracas with Piggott.
“
Really, now, old chap, that
’
s a bit thick, you know. Here is the morning paper you brought in with you. And the first thing I see as I pick it up is the nice black headline describing Mr. Field
’
s little accident. Smeared over the entire front page. And
―
er, you failed to see the story?
”

Michaels stared stonily at Ellery and the paper. But his eyes fell as he mumbled,
“
I didn
’
t get the opportunity of reading the paper this morning, sir. What has happened to Mr. Field?
”

The Inspector snorted.
“
Field
’
s been killed, Michaels, and you knew it all the time.
”

“
But I didn
’
t, I tell you, sir,
”
objected the valet respectfully.

“
Stop lying!
”
rasped Queen.
“
Tell us why you
’
re here or you
’
ll get plenty of opportunity to talk behind bars!
”

Michaels regarded the old man patiently.
“
I
’
ve told you the truth, sir,
”
he said.
“
Mr. Field told me yesterday that I was to come here this morning for my check. That
’
s all I know.
”

“
You were to meet him here?
”

“
Yes, sir.
”

“
Then why did you forget to ring the bell? Used a key as if you didn
’
t expect to find anyone here, my man,
”
said Queen.

“
The bell?
”
The valet opened his eyes wide.
“
I always use my key, sir. Never disturb Mr. Field if I can help it.
”

“
Why didn
’
t Field give you a check yesterday?
”
barked the Inspector.

“
He didn
’
t have his checkbook handy, I think, sir.
”

Queen
’
s lip curled.
“
You haven
’
t even a fertile imagination, Michaels. At what time did you last see him yesterday?
”

“
At about seven o
’
clock, sir,
”
said Michaels promptly.
“
I don
’
t live here at the apartment. It
’
s too small and Mr. Field likes
―
liked privacy. I generally come early in the morning to make breakfast for him and prepare his bath and lay out his clothes. Then when he
’
s gone to the office I clean up a bit and the rest of the day is my own until dinnertime. I return about five, prepare dinner unless I
’
ve heard from Mr. Field during the day that he is dining out, and get his dinner or evening clothes ready. Then I am through for the night . . . . Yesterday after I laid out his things he told me about the check.
”

“
Not an especially fatiguing itinerary,
”
murmured Ellery.
“
And what things did you lay out last evening, Michaels?
”

The man faced Ellery respectfully.
“
There was his underwear, sir, and his socks, his evening shoes, stiff shirt, studs, collar, white tie, full evening dress, cape, hat
―”

“
Ah, yes
―
his hat,
”
interrupted Queen.
“
And what kind of hat was it, Michaels?
”

“
His regular tophat, sir,
”
answered Michaels.
“
He had only one, and a very expensive one it was, too,
”
he added warmly.
“
Browne Bros., I think.
”

Queen drummed lazily on the arm of his chair.
“
Tell me, Michaels,
”
he said,
“
what did you do last night after you left here
―
that is, after seven o
’
clock?
”

“
I went home, sir. I had my bag to pack and I was rather fatigued. I went right to sleep after I
’
d had a bite to eat
―
it must have been near nine-thirty when I climbed into bed, sir,
”
he added innocently.

“
Where do you live?
”
Michaels gave a number of East 146th Street, in the Bronx section.
“
I see . . . . Did Field have any regular visitors here?
”
went on the Inspector.

Michaels frowned politely.
“
That
’
s hard for me to say, sir. Mr. Field wasn
’
t what you would call a friendly person. But then I wasn
’
t here evenings, so I can
’
t say who came after I left. But
―”

“
Yes?
”

“
There was a lady, sir . . . .
”
Michaels hesitated primly.
“
I dislike mentioning names under the circumstances
―”

“
Her name?
”
said Queen wearily.

“
Well, sir
―
it isn
’
t sort of right
―
Russo. Mrs. Angela Russo, her name is,
”
answered Michaels.

“
How long did Mr. Field know this Mrs. Russo?
”

“
Several months, sir. I think he met her at a party in Greenwich Village somewhere.
”

“
I see. And they were engaged, perhaps?
”

Michaels seemed embarrassed.
“
You might call it that, sir, although it was a little less formal . . . .
”

Silence.
“
How long have you been in Monte Field
’
s employ, Michaels?
”
pursued the Inspector.

“
Three years next month.
”

Queen switched to a new line of questioning. He asked Michaels about Field
’
s addiction to theatre-going, his financial condition and his drinking habits. In these particulars Michaels corroborated Mrs. Russo
’
s statements. Nothing of a fresh nature was disclosed.

“
A few moments ago you said you have been working for Field a matter of three years,
”
continued Queen, settling back in his chair.
“
How did you get the job?
”

Michaels did not answer immediately.
“
I followed up an ad in the papers, sir.
”

“
Quite so . . . . If you have been in Field
’
s service for three years, Michaels, you should know Benjamin Morgan.
”

Michaels permitted a proper smile to cross his lips.
“
Certainly I know Mr. Benjamin Morgan,
”
he said heartily.
“
And a very fine gentleman he is, too, sir. He was Mr. Field
’
s partner, you know, in their law business. But then they separated about two years ago and I haven
’
t seen much of Mr. Morgan since.
”