Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 26, No. 4. Whole No. 143, October 1955

“The man’s mad,” said Uncle Harry with conviction. “Now look, sir: granted I could have stolen the diamond and then covered my traces with all this — this insufflator rubbish, what the devil makes you think I actually did? Where’s your evidence, man, your proof?”

“The dog in the Sherlock Holmes story, Silver Blaze,” said Fen. “You will remember that ‘the dog did nothing in the night-time.’ And ‘that was the curious incident.’ ”

“Dog?”

“Like this electric fire here,” Fen explained. “No smell of burning, you recall, when it was first switched on. But there ought to have been a smell of burning, if the fire had been accumulating dust since (at the latest) Spottiswoode’s death three weeks ago. Ask any housewife. Ergo, the fire had been very recently used — less than three weeks ago.

“And since you have possession of the only set of keys, I’m afraid, Mr. Cargill, that means you.”

Two Can Play by Steve April

Black Mask

House detective Fenny was fat, slow on his feet, and looked dumb; but no Black Mask dick was ever faster on the uptake.

* * *

The jeweler and the house dick, being exact opposites, found each other’s company amusing. Mr. Alberts, the jeweler, was soft-spoken, slender, and impeccably groomed. Everything about him was expensive and polished — like his swank jewelry shop in the hotel lobby.

Mr. Fenny, the house dick, looked like a slob. His short fat body shuffled along on its big feet like a toy doll; his suit was so wrinkled he might have slept in it; and there was always about him the faint aroma of stale, cheap cigars. And because Fenny’s eyes were so deeply sunk in his potato face, it was difficult to realize that they were thoughtful and alert. All he needed was a derby to look like a caricature of a house detective.

Fenny and Alberts played a little game. The dick would lumber into the shop, ask, “That three-hundred-buck watch in the window, what would it cost me, Mr. Alberts?” His voice was too high — strictly for laughs.

“Oh, for you it would be wholesale — two hundred and ten dollars.”

A sly look would creep across Fenny’s fat face. “Wholesale? You guys must get a five hundred per cent markup. I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

“The watch cost me exactly two hundred and ten dollars, Mr. Fenny. And that doesn’t include the rent and electricity, so I can display it before your eyes,” Alberts would say with gentle sarcasm.

“Two hundred and ten dollars?” Fenny would repeat, as though Alberts were joking. “I’ll think it over.” And he would shuffle out. A few days later they would go through the same routine — over a lighter or cuff links. Fenny never bought anything, but it was a pleasant way of passing time.

Now, his great body overflowing one of the hotel manager’s leather chairs, Fenny pushed his hat back on his bald head and said, “I’d go slow on arresting the guy. Looks too perfect to me. I sure liked that watch too; sorry you sold it.”

Alberts said, “That’s the point: Did I sell it, or have I been robbed of three hundred dollars?”

“Only two hundred and ten. That’s what it cost you — you claim,” Fenny said.

The manager, who appreciated Fenny’s knack for keeping the hotel’s name out of the wrong kind of headlines, said, “Now, Fenny, we don’t want Mr. Alberts to lose anything. It does look suspicious, reselling the watch to a bell hop for only twenty dollars and—”

Fenny sighed. “Boss, that’s it, the deal’s too suspicious — the take is only a brace of ten spots. And why was this Rogers staying in our best room for the past eleven days on a day-to-day basis? Why wasn’t he paying by the week? Okay, I’ll admit he could have been waiting for a business deal to break any day. But it also gave him a chance to pay, and promptly, every day, including a couple times by check. Then this afternoon he suddenly decides to buy the watch — and offers a check. Mr. Alberts calls the desk clerk, learns Rogers pays his bills promptly, tips well, and so he decides to take the check. Remember the time?”

“Exactly four fifteen. I recall setting the watch.”

Fenny nodded. “That’s what I mean — too many coincidences. Four fifteen on a Friday, no chance to call the bank till Monday, proving—”

“—That perhaps Rogers is pulling a fast one?” Alberts cut in.

“Or that we’re dealing with a smart con operator,” Fenny said. “Look at the case he’s building against himself: half hour ago he gets loaded at the bar and sells the watch to the bellhop for twenty bucks, knowing the bellhop would show it off to the desk clerk, who’d call Alberts. And here we are. Even the drunk act is too good. If you arrest him and the check’s good, he can sue you for—”

“Nevertheless, at this moment Rogers is checking out of the hotel!” Alberts said. “You don’t expect me just to stand around, do you?”

“You’re insured. Wait till—”