Inspector Queen’s Own Case

“Tell you what. What’s today? — Thursday. Maybe I can do even better for you, Inspector. I’m not promising, see, but maybe.”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe my contact can get them right here in my office for you.”

The old man’s lips drew back. “That would be just dandy, Finner. When?”

“Say this Saturday. That’s the 20th. Four p.m. okay with you?”

“When the building’s empty, eh? Nothing like a deserted office building for a little get-together, I always say.”

“With me murder is strictly sucker.” Finner was breathing noisily. “If I pull this off for you, Inspector, no cross-up? I got your word?”

“No deals, Finner. But co-operation never hurt anybody.” Richard Queen looked down at Jessie Sherwood. “That’s it, Miss Sherwood. Thanks for the make.”

“The make?” Jessie said, bewildered.

“The identification.” He poked her to her feet. “You come through for me Saturday afternoon, Finner.”

Finner nodded sadly.

Jessie phoned Richard Queen Friday morning from Gloria Sardella’s apartment to say that she would be busy all day getting her friend off on the cruise and herself settled. When he pressed her to meet him for dinner Jessie hesitated, then asked him to phone her later in the day. He called promptly at five o’clock and she said she was so fagged she would be poor company. She was going to make a sandwich and go to bed. Did he mind very much?

“Seems to me I haven’t seen you for years,” he complained.

Jessie laughed uncertainly.

“It’s been a long day, and it’s going to be a longer evening,” he said. “At least let me take you to breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Make it lunch,” Jessie said, “and it’s a date... I admit I’m a little nervous about tomorrow, Richard. Maybe having to shake the hand that pressed the pillow over Michael’s little face...”

“Not much chance of that.”

“What do you mean? Finner said—”

“I know what Finner said,” he retorted. “That guff about getting them down to his office Saturday was a stall. Finner wants time to put the screws on them, see what information he can squeeze out of them.”

“But if he doesn’t produce them tomorrow—”

“He’ll either produce them or he’ll produce their names. In the end, A. Burt Finner will protect A. Burt Finner. What time tomorrow, Jessie?”

“Make it one-ish.”

“That late?” He sounded dismayed.

“Why, your appointment isn’t until four o’clock. How many hours do you usually take for lunch?”

He hung up, feeling deserted. He had spent most of the day down at Centre Street, wandering into the Squad Room, leafing through recent copies of General Orders to see who had been cited, commended, promoted — gabbing with old cronies in the Central Office bureaus and squads in the Annex at the corner of Broome Street. They had been glad to see him, but he had come away miserable. Friday was the working officer’s busiest day of the week, and he had had the sickening feeling that he was in the way.

The Queen apartment was no sanctuary. It seemed to him dull and empty.

What did men on the shelf do with their days and nights? the old man wondered. How many newspapers could you read? How many movies could you see? How many hours could you spend on a Central Park bench watching cooing humans and pigeons? How long could you hang around men you’d worked with who were still active, before you got into their hair and they began to show it?

Richard Queen went to bed Friday night at a quarter past nine, wishing fiercely it were four o’clock Saturday afternoon.

He muttered: “Now I don’t know what I’m going to run into. You remember what I told you.”

“But why can’t I go in with you, Richard?” Jessie whispered.

“We’re tangling with a lot of unknowns. The chances are Finner’s in there all alone, but a detective’s life is full of surprises.”

“I’m some assistant,” she said disconsolately.

“You listen to me, Jessie. I’ll go in and you’ll wait here at the end of the hall. Keep the cage slide open so the elevator can’t get away from you, just in case. If I think it’s all right, I’ll signal you from the doorway. Otherwise stay out of sight. If you hear anything that sounds like trouble, get out quick.”

“You just watch me!”

“You hear me, Jessie?”

“You’d better go.”

“You won’t forget?” He looked up the corridor. “If you got hurt, Jessie, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Funny,” Jessie said with a shaky laugh. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

He stared at her. Then he grinned, pressed her hand, and walked quickly up the hall.

She saw him stop before 622, put his ear to the door. After a moment he straightened and knocked. He immediately tried the door. It gave, and he went in.

The door did not close at once.

But then, suddenly, it did.

The office building made a pocket of silence in the noisy world.

The door stayed closed.