Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 105, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 640 & 641, March 1995

“Why would he say a thing like that?”

But it was Maud who answered. “The dope probably thought I killed Sylvia and wanted to make the ultimate sacrifice.” Her voice broke. “And now he really has.”

Emtee Dempsey was usually intolerant of tears, but on this occasion she got up and went to Maud and put her arm around her shoulder.

“So it was you he was protecting?”

She bobbed her head and got herself under control. “I haven’t told you everything,” she said to Richard, and glanced at Kim as well. “I found Sylvia that night. I came in and called for her and she didn’t answer and then when I went into the room...” She broke down again.

“There, there. Just take your time and tell us,” the old nun said soothingly.

“Faustino was in bed with her. Nick Faustino!” Maud looked around. “Sylvia was furious to be discovered with him. Nick sprang from the bed and a minute later was out of the apartment, but Sylvia and I had a real showdown. It ended in a pillow fight! God knows what weapons we would have used if she hadn’t grabbed a pillow and begun hitting me with it. I took another pillow. It was like summer camp. Only we were deadly serious. At some point, she fled to the bathroom and locked herself in and I got out of there.”

“To see Brian Casey?”

“Yes.”

“What time was this?” Richard asked.

“I got to the club for Brian’s first show.”

That began at eight, so Richard calculated that Maud had left the hotel five or ten minutes before the hour.

“Giving Faustino his chance,” Richard said.

“Let the child continue, Richard,” Emtee Dempsey said.

“Brian went to the hotel after his first show. To get my things. I couldn’t face Sylvia again.”

When he got to the Elysian, Brian let himself into the suite with the key Maud had given him. The door of Sylvia’s bedroom was open and he looked in, to tell her why he had come.

“The bed was all torn apart and she was sprawled across it. Dead. Brian tried her pulse and there was no point in calling an ambulance. He got her down the hall to the elevator. He descended to the mezzanine, took the body off, and propped it in a chair.”

“Why in the world did he do that?”

“To protect me. I realized he didn’t believe Sylvia was still alive when I left the hotel.”

“Did he dress the body?”

Maud looked up at Richard. “That was the strange part. He said he found her lying on the bed dressed in a nun’s habit.”

Sister Mary Teresa said to Richard, “Well, you have a thing or two to ask Mr. Faustino, don’t you?”

Richard made a thin line with his lips. Being instructed by Emtee Dempsey on how to do his job was almost more than he could bear. “I want you to come along with me, Miss Howe. Let’s get all this down for the record.”

“She should have a lawyer,” Katherine said and met Richard’s glare defiantly. “I am not suggesting that you regularly use torture, Lieutenant Moriarity. It is simply better all around that she have counsel before making statements.”

“I will call Mr. Rush,” Emtee Dempsey said.

She did, and their lawyer arranged to meet Richard and Maud downtown.

“I’ll come along,” Kim said. Maud still looked shaken.

“That isn’t necessary,” the young woman said.

“Nonsense,” Emtee Dempsey said, always willing to volunteer Kim’s services. “Of course Sister will accompany you.”

6

Katherine was still at the house when Kim returned, talking with Emtee Dempsey. Joyce had retired. The reporter looked a little under the influence of the sherry she had been drinking.

“Oh good, Kim, you’re back. I’ve been refusing to leave until I have a witness to what this impossible old woman has told me.”

“Katherine,” said Emtee Dempsey, sipping her tea, “I have no idea why you make such a fuss about it.”

“Oh, don’t you? Kim, Sister Mary Teresa has told me that she knows who killed Sylvia Corrigan and Brian Casey.”

“You heard Richard, Katherine. They’ve arrested Nick Faustino.” How much sherry had Katherine had?

“But she says it isn’t Faustino!”

Emtee Dempsey smiled sweetly toward where the horizon would be if the wall hadn’t been in the way. “Of course it isn’t.”

“Then who is it?” Kim asked.

The old nun took her watch from the pocket concealed by her wimple and pressed its stem to open it. “It is nearly eleven o’clock. Much too late for revelations. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

“Oh, posh,” Katherine said. “You’re showboating.”

“I wonder what the origin of that expression is?” Emtee Dempsey said, apparently genuinely curious.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I will do what I said I would do before noon tomorrow. Would you like to join us for night prayers, Katherine?”

“No,” the reporter said, rising and then steadying herself. “This old sinner is going home to bed.”

“Sister Kimberly will get you a cab.”