Calamity Town

The Singular Request of Miss Patricia Wright

By the next morning several changes had taken place.

Wrightsville’s attention was temporarily transferred from one Jim Haight to one Ellery Smith.

Frank Lloyd’s newspaper came out with a blary edition reporting the sensational facts of Mr. Smith’s testimony; and an editorial which said, in part:

The bombshell of Mr. Smith’s testimony yesterday turns out to be a dud. There is no possible case against this man. Smith had no possible motive. He had not known Nora or James Haight or any of the Wrights before he came to Wrightsville last August. He has had practically no contact with Mrs. Haight, and less than that with Rosemary Haight. Whatever his reason for the quixotic nature of his farcical testimony yesterday¯and Prosecutor Bradford is to be censured for his handling of the witness, who obviously led him on¯it means nothing. Even if Smith were the only other person aside from Jim Haight who could have poisoned the fatal cocktail on New Year’s Eve, he could not possibly have been sure that that one poisoned cocktail would reach Nora Haight, whereas Jim Haight could have and, in effect, did. Nor could Smith have written the three letters, which are indisputably in the handwriting of James Haight. Wrightsville and the jury can only conclude that what happened yesterday was either a desperate gesture of friendliness on Smith’s part or a cynical bid for newspaper space by a writer who is using Wrightsville as a guinea pig.

The first thing Bradford said to Ellery on the stand the next morning was: “I show you the official transcript of your testimony yesterday. Will you please begin to read?”

Ellery raised his brows, but he took the transcript and read: “ ‘Question: What is your name? Answer: Ellery Smith¯’ “

“Stop right there! That is what you testified, isn’t it¯that your name is Ellery Smith?”

“Yes,” said Ellery, beginning to feel cold.

“Is Smith your real name?”

Ho hum, thought Ellery. The man’s a menace. ”No.”

“An assumed name, then?”

“Order in the court!” shouted the bailiff.

“Yes.”

“What is your real name?”

Judge Martin said quickly: “I don’t see the point of this line of questioning, Your Honor. Mr. Smith is not on trial¯”

“Mr. Bradford?” said Judge Newbold, who was looking curious.

“Mr. Smith’s testimony yesterday,” said Bradford with a faint smile, “raised a certain logical question about what the People allege to have been the defendant’s unique opportunity to poison the cocktail. Mr. Smith testified that he himself was in a position to have poisoned the cocktail. My examination this morning, then, must necessarily include an examination of Mr. Smith’s character¯”

“And you can establish Mr. Smith’s character by bringing out his true name?” asked Judge Newbold, frowning.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I think I’ll allow this, Counsel, pending testimony.”

“Will you please answer my last question,” said Bradford to Ellery. ”What is your real name?”

Ellery saw the Wrights looking bewildered¯all but Pat, who was biting her lip with vexation as well as perplexity. But it was quite clear to him that Bradford had been busy through the intervening night. The name “Queen” carried no theoretical immunity against a charge of murder, of course; but as a practical measure its revelation would banish from the minds of the jury any notion that its well-known bearer could have had anything to do with the crime.

The jig was up.

Ellery Queen sighed and said: “My name is Ellery Queen.”

* * *

Judge Martin did his best, under the circumstances. The punctuality of Bradford’s timing became evident. By putting Ellery on the stand, Bradford had given the defense a handhold to an important objective. But the objective was lost in the revelation of Ellery’s true identity.

Judge Martin hammered away at the anvil of one point.

“Mr. Queen, as a trained observer of criminal phenomena, you were interested in the possibilities of this case?”

“Immensely.”

“That is why you kept James Haight under unrelaxing observation New Year’s Eve?”

“That, and a personal concern for the Wright family.”

“You were watching for a possible poisoning attempt on Haight’s part?”

“Yes,” said Ellery simply.

“Did you see any such attempt on Haight’s part? “

“I did not!”

“You saw James Haight make no slightest gesture or motion which might have concealed a dropping of arsenic into one of the cocktail glasses?”

“I saw no such gesture or motion.”

“And you were watching for that, Mr. Queen?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s all,” said Judge Martin in triumph.

The newspapers all agreed that Mr. Ellery Queen, who was in Wrightsville seeking material for a new detective story, had seized upon this hell-sent opportunity to illuminate the cause of dark letters with some national publicity.

And Bradford, with a grim look, rested for the people.

* * *

The weekend intervened, and everybody involved in the case went home or to his hotel room or, as in the case of the out-of-town newspa-perpeople, to their cots in the lobby of the Hollis; and all over town people were agreeing that it looked black for Jim Haight, and why shouldn’t it¯he did it, didn’t he?

The roadhouses and taverns were jammed over the weekend, and there was considerable revelry.

On Friday night, however, the unofficial committee for the defense of James Haight met again in the Wright living room, and the atmosphere was blue with despair.

Nora said to Ellery, to Judge Martin, to Roberta Roberts: “What do you think?”¯painfully and without hope; and all they could do was shake their heads.

“Queen’s testimony would have helped a great deal more,” growled old Judge Eli, “if that jury weren’t so dad-blamed set on Jim’s guilt. No, Nora, it looks bad, and I’m not going to tell you anything different.”

Nora stared blindly into the fire.

“To think that you’ve been Ellery Queen all along,” sighed Hermy. ”I suppose there was a time when I’d have been thrilled, Mr. Queen. But I’m so washed-out these days¯”

“Momsy,” murmured Lola, “where’s your fighting spirit?”

Hermy smiled, but she excused herself to go upstairs to bed, her feet dragging.

And after a while John F. said: “Thanks, Queen,” and went off after Hermy, as if Hermy’s going had made him a little uneasy.

And they sat there without speaking for a long time, until Nora said: “At least, Ellery, what you saw confirms Jim’s innocence. That’s something. It ought to mean something. Heavens,” she cried, “they’ve got to believe you!”

“Let’s hope they do.”

“Judge Martin,” said Roberta suddenly. ”Monday’s your day to begin howling. What are you going to howl about?”

“Suppose you tell me,” said Judge Martin.

Her glance fell first. ”I have nothing to tell that could help,” she said in a faint voice.

“Then I was right,” murmured Ellery. ”Don’t you think others might make better judges¯”

Something crashed. Pat was on her feet, and the sherry glass from which she had been sipping lay in little glittery fragments in the fireplace, surrounded by blue flames.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Lola. ”If this isn’t the screwiest family!”

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter with me,” panted Pat. ”I’m through sitting on my¯sitting around and imitating Uriah Heep. I’m going to do something!”

“Patty,” gasped Nora, looking at her younger sister as if Pat had suddenly turned into a female Mr. Hyde.

Lola murmured: “What in hell are you babbling about, Patticums?”

“I’ve got an idea!”

“The little one’s got an idea,” grinned Lola. ”I had an idea once. Next thing I knew I was divorcing a heel and everybody began to call me an amptray. Siddown, Snuffy.”

“Wait a moment,” said Ellery. ”It’s possible. What idea, Pat?”

“Go ahead and be funny,” said Pat hotly. ”All of you. But I’ve worked out a plan, and I’m going through with it.”

“What kind of plan?” demanded Judge Martin. ”I’ll listen to anyone, Patricia.”

“Will you?” jeered Pat. ”Well, I’m not talking. You’ll know when the time comes, Uncle Eli! You’ve got to do just one thing¯”

“And that is?”

“To call me as the last witness for the defense/”

The Judge began in bewilderment: “But what¯?”

“Yes, what’s stewing?” asked Ellery quickly. ”You’d better talk it over with your elders first.”

“There’s been too much talk already, Grandpa.”

“But what do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

“I want three things.” Pat looked grim. ”Time, last crack at the witness stand, and some of your new Odalisque Parfum, Nora . . . Accomplish, Mr. Queen? I’m going to save Jim!”

Nora ran out of the room, using her knitting as a handkerchief.

“Well, I will!” said Pat, exasperated. And she added, in a gun-moll undertone: “I’ll show that Carter Bradford!”