Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 101, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 610 & 611, March 1993

“Humpty Smith was in the hospital, Jack Garbet went to his sister’s in Cairo Illinoise last month and hasn’t come back, Larry Macmar was in Murrey’s Bowling Alley the whole night watching the turnament, Robert Smith, he—” Again the sergeant stopped abruptly.

Old Tim looked up, smiling. “Robert Alfred Smith? the smokey? Yeah? You remember his sister, Lupe.”

“Naa.”

“You don’t remember his sister, Lupe. Aaah, come on. You remember his sister, Lupe. Nanny Smith. She was at, uh, Number Four School with yune me, couple classes behind. She had a head, Nanny Smith, she had a head shape just like a lemon. Lemon-head Nanny Smith, we use ta call her.”

Novak said, “Yeah, well, she died last night, Lieutenant Flint. See. And her brother, Robert Smith, he was there the whole time with the whole family at the home. So that lets him out.”

Captain Luper took from his drawer a small packet of small cigars with plastic holders already attached to them. He took one out, then he shook his head very slightly, then he slipped it back in the box and put the box back in his drawer. “Okay, okay, who’s left?” he asked. He sounded a little bit tired.

Timmy’s face showed surprise. “Nanny Smith died? Lemon-head Nanny Smith? She died, huh. She died.” After a moment Flint said, “Rest her soul. She was at Old Number Four School, with yune me, Lupe.” Shaking his head, he slowly returned to his paper.

“And so the only one unaccounted for, and we picked him up right away and check him out and he hadn’t got no explanation of his whereabouts, like, just, like, he said, he was just, like walking around. And he didn’t see anybody and nobody saw him. So we lettum go, a course, and been keepin’ a eye on— Oh. Uh. Sorry, Captain. Stanley L. for Lewis Pine. Is the only one left in the Eight File. So, om, Captain Blaine, he—”

Luper nodded. Muscles jumped in his grey cheeks. “He thought. Yeah. Gimme the package.” For a while there was only the sound of Captain Luper’s shuffling through the records. Then he began to separate them into piles on the desk. Then he began to talk, almost to himself.

“Drunk and disorderly. Drunk and disorderly. Fourteen-year-old girl, parents changed their mind, wouldn’t press charges. Breaking and entering. Attempted assault of an officer, lawyer got him off. Bob Baimbridge, you wouldn’t believe the pull that one had. Attempted second degree A. and R., she wouldn’t press no charges, either. Complaint from old housewife on Williston Street: loitering and looking in— Nol-pros. Attempted...” His voice died away. He began to count. “—and seven. And eight,” he concluded. He shoved the records away from him. Sergeant Novak gathered them up.

“Well.” Captain Luper didn’t exactly look cheerful. But he looked more alert. “Stanley L. for Lewis Pine. That ballbreaker. He had his chances. Eight of um. You understand the procedure, Officer Kovacs.”

The new man nodded. “Yes, Captain. It’s been explained to me.”

“You got the warrant.”

They nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

A note of irritation in Captain Luper’s voice. “Well, what uh the two a ya waitin’ for. Christmas?”

“Yes, Captain. Uh, no Captain. Thanks, Captain.” The two men turned and started out. Old Tim Flint looked up and guffawed. A faint movement that served for a smile tugged at the corners of Captain Luper’s large, loose mouth. Novak clicked his tongue and gave his head a reproving jerk. Kovacs blushed.

“Well?”

Embarrassed, apologetic — “The prints. Yeah. Oh yeah, Captain. We forgot about the—”

Luper waved the sergeant’s hasty comments away. “What about the prints? Huh. New man on the force, pronounced—”

The new man said, “We pull his prints, Captain. And we go over to where the dead woman, to uh, 33-A Lombardy. And we plant them.”

Captain Luper nodded, dismissed them with an abrupt move of his hand. He pulled out his desk drawer as they left, took up the little packet of cigars once more, and once more shook his head slightly. Then he got up and moved towards the door.

“Corvette and Stamina. Uh-uh,” said Old Tim. “In the third, Lupe, I like Ranger.”

Captain Luper stood in the doorway. He stretched. Then, looking at a spot on the wall opposite, he said to the world at large, “Any coffee?”

They’ll Never Find You by Donald Olson