The King is Dead

14

The Inspector embraced him without shame.

“I thought you were never coming back, son.”

“Dad—”

“Wait till we get in the car. I purposely drove down to the field so we could have a few minutes alone.” When they were in the little Residence car, he said, “Well?”

“First,” said Ellery, “how is King?”

“Up and about, and as far as I can see he’s good as new. Storm won’t let him do more than a couple of hours’ work a day, so he’s taking mild exercise and spending a lot of time with Karla. What have you got?”

“The whole story.”

His father scowled. “Isn’t that ducky.”

“You don’t seem pleased!”

“Why should I be? Because you’ve got the whole story of what they did as kids in Wrightsville? How does that help us get off this damned roof?”

“The whole story,” said Ellery, “of the attempted murder. What’s behind it... and what, I think, is ahead of it.”

And Ellery started the car.

“Wait!” cried his father.

“Do you know where King is now?”

“When I left, he and Karla and that Max were lying around the outdoor pool. But Ellery—”

“Then I’d better hurry.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Look for something first. Something,” muttered Ellery, “I don’t expect to find.”

Ellery lingered outside the Residence long enough to ascertain that the royal couple were still basking on the bank of the outdoor pool. He did not go near the pool; he investigated from behind a bird-of-paradise bush in the gardens, and the Bendigos remained unaware of his presence. He could see Max’l’s furred body and bullet head rolling around in the water. Karla was stretched out on a beach pad; her skin, usually so fair, was red-gold, as if she had been spending her days in the sun. King dozed in a deck-chair. He was in light slacks, but he had removed his shirt and Ellery saw the puckered scar of the wound against his dark skin. The wound looked entirely healed.

They took the private elevator to the Bendigo apartments.

The captain of the guard saluted and then shook hands. “We heard you were expected back, sir. There’s no one in just now but Mr. Judah.”

“I’ll want to see him in a few minutes... I notice the seal on the Confidential Room, Captain, is broken.”

“Yes, sir,” said the officer uneasily.

“King himself broke the seal, Ellery. He was angry, and it was all we could do to convince him that these men weren’t at fault but were just following orders. I had to give the boss man back his key.”

Ellery shrugged and went directly to King’s suite, his father following eagerly.

“This is it, I think.”

They stepped into King Bendigo’s wardrobe room.

“Shut the door, Dad.” Ellery looked around.

The Inspector shut the door and leaned against it. “Now what?”

“Now, we take inventory,” said Ellery. “You watch and make sure I don’t overlook any closet, drawer, or shelf. This has to be thorough.” He approached the first closet to the left of the entrance and slid back its door. “Suits... suits... and more suits. Morning, afternoon, evening, formal, informal, semi-formal...”

“Am I supposed to take notes?” asked his father.

“Mental notes... And so forth. But all suits. Next.” Ellery opened another closet, ran his hand along the racks. “Coats. Topcoats, overcoats, greatcoats, fur coats, storm coats, raincoats— What’s up here? Hat department. Fedoras, homburgs, derbies, silk toppers, golf caps, hunting caps, yachting caps, et cetera, et cetera...”

“What a man.”

“Isn’t he.”

“I meant you,” said his father.

Ah, the shoe department. From patent leathers to hunting boots. Ever see anything like this outside a store? Dressing-gowns... bathrobes... smoking jackets... And the sports division! Sports jackets, shooting jackets, slacks, ski outfits, yachting suits, riding clothes, gym clothes, wrestling tights, tennis whites—”

“Is there anything he’s missed?” said the Inspector. “He couldn’t wear half these things out if he lived to be as old as I feel right now.”

“Shirts, hundreds of shirts, for every occasion... Underwear... pajamas — whew!... socks... collars... and look at these ties!... Handkerchiefs... sweaters... mufflers... gloves... everything in wholesale lots—”

“And I’m not getting any younger,” muttered the Inspector.

“Belts, suspenders, garters, spats, cuff links, collar buttons, studs, tie-pins, tie clasps, key chains... and wallets. Dad, will you look in this drawer? I wonder what this is made of. If this isn’t elephant hide—”

“You missed that one,” said his father.

“Which? Oh... Walking-sticks. About a hundred, wouldn’t you say, Dad? And if this isn’t a sword-cane, I’ll... There you are. Sword-cane, too.”

“Umbrella rack.”

“And the drawer under it... Rubbers. Overshoes. Hip boots — have I left anything out?” Ellery went over to the wall beside his father and pressed a button. “We’ll make sure.”

“I suppose,” sighed his father, “you know what you’re doing. Because I don’t.”

There was a precise knock behind his back. The Inspector opened the door. A thin man in black stood there.

“Yes, sir?” The voice sounded unused.

“Are you the King’s valet?” asked Ellery.

“Yes, sir. I must ask you, sir—”

“Do the contents of this room represent Mr. Bendigo’s entire wardrobe?”

“On Bendigo Island — yes, sir. Sir, this room is—”

“There’s no other place in or out of the Residence where his personal garments are kept?”

“Not on the island, sir. A similar wardrobe room exists in each residence maintained by Mr. Bendigo. There is one in New York City, one in Bodigen, Illinois, one in Paris—”

“Thank you,” said Ellery; and when the valet lingered, he said, “That’s all.” The valet backed away reluctantly.

“That was all I wanted to know,” Ellery said as they made their way to Judah Bendigo’s quarters.

“That King has the biggest personal wardrobe this side of the Milky Way, and that it’s all in that room?”

“That he has the biggest personal wardrobe this side of the Milky Way,” said Ellery, “with one very odd exception.”

The Inspector stopped short. “You mean there’s somebody has a bigger one?”

“I mean there’s something missing.”

“Missing! From there?”

“What I was looking for, Dad, is not in that room. Not one of them. But we’ll make sure.”

Judah was at his Bechstein playing a Bach prelude. There was an open bottle of Segonzac on the piano, and an empty glass.

Blue Shirt rose quietly from a chair and Brown Shirt turned from the window as the Queens came in. Judah paid no attention. Rather remarkably, he did not slouch at the piano. He sat well back on the bench, his back straight, his shallow chest out, head thrown back, hands playing from the wrists in beautiful, dancelike rhythms. His eyes were open and staring out across the strings at some vista visible only to himself. There was a frown on his forehead.

He came to the end of the prelude. With the last chord his hands dropped, his back and chest collapsed, his head came forward, and he reached for the bottle of cognac.

“You should play Bach more often,” said Ellery.

Judah turned, startled. Then he jumped up and hurried forward with every appearance of pleasure. “You’re back,” he exclaimed. “I’ve missed you. Maybe there’s something you can do about these two barbarians — I’ve talked to your father about it, but he merely looked wise. Do you know what this one wants me to play? Offenbach!” Judah had the bottle and glass in his hands and he began to pour himself a drink. “Where have you been, Ellery? No one would tell me.”

“Wrightsville.”

Judah dropped the glass. The bottle remained in his hand, but only by a sort of instinct. He looked down at the rug, foolishly.

Blue Shirt began to pick up the pieces.

“Wrightsville.” Judah laughed; it sounded more like the croak of a blackbird. “And how is dear old Wrightsville?”

“Judah, I want you to come with us.”

“Wrightsville?”

“The outdoor pool.”

Brown Shirt said from his window, “Mr. Judah is confined to his apartment, Mr. Queen.”

“I’m unconfining him. I’ll take the responsibility.”

“We’ll have to come with him, sir.”

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry, sir. We have our orders from the King himself. No one else can countermand them.”

“He kind of surprised Abel, I think,” murmured Inspector Queen. “He doesn’t seem to want any more holes in his hide than he has already, in spite of what Abel told us.”

Ellery went to Judah’s desk. He said into the telephone, “This is Ellery Queen. Connect me with Abel Bendigo. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing.”

The connexion was made quickly. Ellery said, “No, from Judah’s apartment, Mr. Bendigo. Where are you now?”

“At the Home Office.” Abel sounded curious. “I was beginning to think you’d walked out on us.”

“If I did, I’m back in again with both feet.”

“Oh!”

“Mr. Bendigo, I want to take Judah from his quarters, without a guard. It’s a private matter. I understand your brother King himself ordered Judah confined. Will you take these men off the hook?”

Abel was silent. Then he said, “Let me talk to one of them.”

Ellery held out the phone to Brown Shirt. Brown Shirt said, “Yes, Mr. Abel?” After a moment, he said, “But Mr. Abel, the King himself—” and stopped. Then he said again, “But Mr. Abel—” and stopped again and said nothing at all for sixty seconds. At last he said, “Yes, sir,” in a worried voice, and he handed the receiver back to Ellery. He nodded to Blue Shirt, who was frowning. The two plain-clothes men went quietly out.

“Thus spake Zarathustra,” murmured Judah. “And now do we move toward Armageddon?” He put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and threw his head far back.

“One other thing, Mr. Bendigo,” Ellery was saying into the phone, his eyes on Judah. “Please meet us at the outdoor pool immediately.”

Again Abel was silent. Then his Yankee voice said, “I’ll be right over.”

Karla was looking frightened again, and King black at the sight of his brother Judah. Max’l swooped through the water and was out of the pool like a seal.

Ellery stepped before Judah. “It’s all right, Max,” he said, smiling.

“Max.” At his master’s tone the almost naked beast came to heel. He kept glowering over Ellery’s shoulder at the thin little man with the green bottle. “So you’re back,” King Bendigo said grimly. “You’re an annoying customer, Queen. How did you persuade the guards to turn my brother over to you?”

“Abel gave the order at my request.”

The big man sat very still in the deck-chair. “Where is Abel?”

“He’ll be here in a minute... Here he comes now.”

The slightly tubby figure of the Prime Minister appeared, hurrying through the gardens toward them. The group at the pool waited in silence. Karla had sat up. Now she reached for a robe and threw it about her, as if she were suddenly cold. Her red hair kept glittering in the sun nervously. Judah took another pull from his bottle.

“I got here fast as I could—” panted Abel.

“Abel, I don’t understand.” His brother’s voice was arctic. “You knew my order. What has this fellow done, hypnotized you?”

Abel stooped over his brother’s chair, saying something in an earnest whisper. But King’s cold face did not soften. He kept looking at Ellery as he listened.

“I still don’t understand, Abel.”

Abel straightened. And a curious thing occurred. As he straightened he seemed to grow tall, and as he grew tall his bland bankerish face seemed to thin, until it looked almost gaunt. It was now as rigid as the face of his brother.

The brothers stared at each other for some time.

Suddenly King Bendigo sprang from his chair. He was trembling. “I’ll clear this up later,” he exclaimed. “Right now I want to know what you’re up to, Queen. You went away, now you’re back. What did you find out?”

“Everything.”

“Everything about what?”

“About what matters, Mr. Bendigo.”

“I’m not impressed. What about the bullet I stopped? That’s what I’m interested in, Queen, and I want it without frills — in business English. If you can’t tell me how the trick was done, pack your bag, take your father, and get the hell off my island. I’m sick of seeing your faces around here.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you about the murder attempt, Mr. Bendigo.” Ellery walked over to the edge of the pool. He stood there, his right hand in his jacket pocket, looking down at the water. Karla was staring up at him; once she glanced at her husband. Abel was no longer looking at his brother; he watched Ellery closely.

Judah clutched his bottle and surveyed them all with unusual warmth.

The Inspector edged back. He felt a certain joy. He stopped very near Max.

Ellery turned to King, bringing his hand from his pocket as he did so. The little Walther nestled in his palm.

“This is the weapon, Mr. Bendigo,” Ellery said, “which your brother Judah aimed at you through two walls. The problem is curious. I testify myself that when Judah raised the gun it contained no cartridges. When he squeezed the trigger, there was no shot. Still, the ballistics tests proved that the bullet Dr. Storm dug out of your chest had been fired from this gun and no other. Would you mind examining it, please?”

The big man had been listening stonily, but with attention. Now he strode to the edge of the pool and put out his hand for the automatic.

Ellery’s right hand moved to meet it. King Bendigo stepped closer, and with a sweep of the left arm Ellery struck him a heavy blow at the side of the neck and toppled him over the edge into the pool. The King landed with a cry that was smothered in a great splash.

Ellery immediately wheeled. The Walther in his hand was now gripped at the stock and his finger was curled about the trigger.

“You’re not to help him,” he said. “I loaded this gun fifteen minutes ago.”

Behind Max, the Inspector said, “One move and I blow a hole clear through to your gut.”

Max stood still. His brutal face was convulsed.

Abel was making stiff little gestures toward the pool, Judah kept looking at Ellery. And Karla swayed on her knees, reaching.

“Mrs. Bendigo, I must ask you,” said Ellery, looking at the men, “to get away from the edge.”

“Son.” The Inspector sounded urgent.

“Cover them, Dad.”

His father stepped back; there was a Police Positive in his hand.

Ellery turned to the pool again. Bendigo was flailing the water with his arms, bellowing and strangling. He went under, immediately reappeared, and immediately began to sink again.

Ellery flung himself on the pool’s edge and reached far out. He caught the sinking man’s hair, but somehow his quarry got away. He grabbed at a clutching hand. This time he held on, and a moment later he had pulled the big man out of the pool on to the shore.

King lay on his stomach, gagging.

Ellery stood over him. The Walther dangled. He made no attempt to touch Bendigo again.

After a while the big man pushed himself to an all-fours position. He was breathing awkwardly. He struggled to his feet, turned around.

He was unrecognizable. The hair that had given way in Ellery’s hand was floating in the pool; all that was left on the magnate’s head was a dank black fringe. And something had happened to his face. The vigorous cheeks had become hollow, and the strong mouth had changed its shape and outline. Little wrinkles radiated from their corners. The flesh of his neck was suddenly pouchy.

But the change was more than a matter of a lost toupee and dentures. Something far more vital had gone out of him. The black fires in his eyes-had been quenched; the proud confidence that had kept his belly in and his shoulders square had been soaked and rotted out of him. Now he was a sagging and drooping as well as a bald and lined old man.

A beaten and a broken old man.

He did not look at them. His wife made an involuntary movement toward him, full of pity, but then she checked herself.

He stumbled off the camouflaged apron of the pool and made his way through them in a ploddy shuffle, difficult to watch. His long arms bobbed and swayed with his shambling progress, mere appendages. He left a thin trail of water which under the hot sun began at once to dry.

They watched him move through the gardens to the rear entrance of the Residence. He did not once look up or back.

Finally he disappeared.

Max’l cried out and plunged away and through the garden, trampling flowers and making frantic gestures to the Residence.

Karla got to her feet. She seemed strangely calm. And she went to Abel Bendigo and stood close by him.

And Judah Bendigo went to both of them.

After a moment, as if one of them had spoken, the three turned and went side by side at a good pace around the garden and one of the five arms of the Residence and so out of the Queens’ sight.

“Will you tell me,” said Inspector Queen, “will you tell me what any of this means?”

Ellery was eying the toupee, floating like a black crab in the pool. “You know, Dad, I had no idea he wore a toupee. Or false teeth. He looked a thousand years old.”

The Inspector hefted his Police Positive. “If you don’t open up,” he said, “so help me Hannah—”

Ellery laughed, “Not here,” he said. “Suppose I take you for a ride.”