A Study in Terror

Ellery’s Legman Legs It Again

“Rachel?”

She looked back over her shoulder. “Grant! Grant Ames!”

“Just thought I’d drop in,” said the playboy.

“So sweet of you!”

Rachel Hager wore a pair of blue jeans and a tight sweater. She had long legs and a slim body, but there were plenty of curves. Her mouth was full and wide, and her eyes were an odd off-brown, and her nose was pugged. She looked like a madonna who had run into a door.

This pleasing paradox did not escape Grant Ames, III. She didn’t look like this the other day, he thought, and pointed to what she had been doing in the backyard.

“I didn’t know you grew roses.”

Her laugh revealed the most beautiful buck teeth. “I try. Heavens, how I try. But my thumb stays its natural color. What brings you into the wilds of New Rochelle?” She slipped off her gloves and lifted a strand of hair off her forehead. The shade was mouse brown, but Grant was sure that, bottled, it would have lined them up at the cosmetic counters.

“Just driving by. Hardly got a chance to say hello at Lita’s the other a day.”

“I was there by accident. I couldn’t stay around.”

“I noticed you didn’t swim.”

“Why, Grant! Such a nice compliment. Most girls are noticed when they do. How about the patio? I’ll bring you a drink. Scotch, isn’t it?”

“At times, but at the moment I could do with a frosty iced tea.”

“Really? I’ll be right back.”

When she returned, Grant watched her cross her long legs in a lawn chair too low to be comfortable. For some reason he was stirred. “Lovely garden.”

That enchanting buck-toothed laugh again. “You should see it after the kids leave.”

“The kids?”

“From the orphanage. We bring a group over once a week, and it’s wild. They do respect the roses, though. One little girl just sits and stares. Yesterday I gave her an ice cream cone and it melted all over her hand. It was that Mammoth Tropicana over there. She tried to kiss it.”

“I didn’t know you worked with children.” As a matter of cold fact, Grant had not had the least idea what Rachel did, and until now had not cared a whit.

“I’m sure I get more out of it than they do. I’m working on my Master’s now, and I have time to spare. I was thinking of the Peace Corps. But there’s so much to do right here in the U.S.―in town, in fact.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Grant unbelievingly heard himself mutter.

The girl looked up quickly, not sure she had heard him right. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I was trying to remember how many times I’ve seen you. The first was at Snow Mountain, wasn’t it?”

“I think it was.”

“Jilly Hart introduced us.”

“I remember because I broke my ankle that trip. But how can you possibly remember? With your harem?”

“I’m not entirely irresponsible,” said Grant stuffily.

“I mean, why should you? Me? You’ve never shown―”

“Would you do me a favor, Rachel?”

“What?” asked Rachel suspiciously.

“Go back and do what you were doing when I got here. Dig at your roses. I want to sit here and look at you.”

“Is this your latest line?”

“It’s very strange,” he mumbled.

“Grant. What did you come here for?”

“What?”

“I said, what did you come here for?”

“Damned if I can remember.”

“I’ll bet you can,” the girl said, a little grimly. “Try.”

“Let me see. Oh! To ask if you’d put a brown manila envelope on the seat of my Jag at Lita’s. But the hell with that. What kind of fertilizer do you use?”

Rachel squatted. Grant had visions of Vogue.

“I have no formula. I just keep mixing. Grant, what’s the matter with you?”

He looked down at the lovely brown hand on his arm.

My God/ It’s happened!

“If I come back at seven, will you have a frock on?” he asked.

She looked at him with a dawning light. “Of course, Grant,” she said softly.

“And you won’t mind my showing you off here and there?”

The hand squeezed. “You darling.”

“Ellery, I’ve found her, I’ve found her!” Grant Ames III babbled over the telephone.

“Found whom?”

“THE Woman!”

“Who put the envelope in your car?” Ellery said in a peculiar voice.

“Who put what?” said Grant.

“The envelope. The journal.”

“Oh.” There was a silence. “You know what, Ellery?”

“No. What?”

“I didn’t find out.”

Ellery went back to Dr. Watson, shrugging.