The Cat Who Had 14 Tales

Uncle Bill said: “By George, if Freddie was so successful at robbing the bank, why did he put a rope around his neck?” He said: “It’s my guess that Conscience walked into his private office and gave him that look.”

Did they ever find the eighty thousand?

What? . . . That old lady is hollering again. What time is it?

Three o’clock, ma’am. Was the mystery ever solved?

What? . . . I don’t know. I’m getting tired. I know Matt up and quit. Went to Chicago or somewhere. Something else happened, too. I don’t want to tell it.

It’s all right to talk about it, ma’am. It’s history.

Well . . . I don’t know . . . . Poor Conscience! . . . They found her out in the barn behind the bank. Stiff as a poker! Someone twisted a wire around her neck.

Did Matt do it?

I’m tired. I don’t want to talk anymore. I never told anybody the rest of it. I wish I had some chocolates. Do you have any chocolates?

No, ma’am, but I’ll send you some. Won’t you tell the rest of the story? You’re a good storyteller.

I don’t remember. I want my nap.

What kind of chocolates do you like?

Chocolates? . . . I like those little opera creams. Abigail always got opera creams when she went to Chicago.

Who was Abigail?

She got heaps of things in Chicago: silk waists, kid gloves, fancy high-buttoned shoes. Folks in Gattville talked about her. She was over twenty-one, and she didn’t have a husband. But she didn’t care . . . . She was the prettiest girl in town. Everybody said so.

Excuse me, ma’am. Who was Abigail?

Why, she was the stenographer at the bank! She could typewrite and everything. She knew what happened, but it was a secret.

Did she know what happened to the eighty-thousand dollars?

I promised not to tell, but . . . I don’t know. She never comes to see me. We were good friends, but she never comes to see me.

Did Abigail get the money?

Abigail? . . . No, Abigail didn’t get the money . . . . That Matt got it. He was the bank clerk. Mister Freddie gave it to him.

Why? Can you remember?

Remember? Of course I can remember! Matt threatened to tell everything if Mister Freddie didn’t pay him. Just a little bit at first. Matt told Mister Freddie he could fix it so nobody would find out . . . . What time is it? I’m getting tired.

Please, ma’am, what did Matt threaten to tell? It’s all right to tell the secret. It happened a long time ago.

I don’t know. I don’t remember . . . . It was about Chicago. They were carrying on, the two of them.

Abigail and Mister Freddie?

Abigail told me . . . . She would go to visit her grandmother. Then she’d skip away and meet Mister Freddie in a hotel. He bought her nice presents. And they did funny things.

What to you mean by “funny things”?

You know! Funny things! Abigail told me . . . . She knew it was wrong, but she felt sorry for Mister Freddie. Her mother wasn’t nice to him. She was sickly.

Do you mean that Mister Freddie was married to Abigail’s mother? Then—he was Abigail’s stepfather.

I don’t know. You ask too many questions.

What happened to Abigail after the funeral—and after they discovered the bank shortage?

I don’t know. She went away. I don’t know where she went. She never came to see me. We used to be very good friends . . . . She shouldn’t have hurt Conscience. I’m sorry about what she did to Conscience . . . . Go away now. I’m tired. Where’s the nurse? . . . I can hear her coming—squinch-squinch . . .

Oh, you naughty girl! You’ve been talking too much and tiring yourself. We have to put you to bed now. Say goodbye to your visitor, Abby. Wake up and say goodbye. Abigail! Abigail! Wake up!

SuSu and the 8:30 Ghost

“SuSu and the 8:30 Ghost” was first published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, April 1964.