The Scarlet Letters

S· T· U· V· W·

Ellery was a reluctant passenger the night Martha and the actor met on the Staten Island ferry. He had had no intention of going, despite Nikki’s warning of the time of the meeting — he had run across a Rosetta Stone which unlocked the secrets of the indecipherable notes on his next novel, and he was hard at work transcribing them into recognizable English. “I don’t see the point of it, anyway, Nikki,” he said over the phone. “I can’t learn anything I don’t know already. And there’s nothing, nothing I can do about any of it.”

He changed his mind the next evening, when Nikki phoned in a panic to tell him that Dirk had gone out almost on Martha’s heels, with no explanation to Nikki except that he was “tired of working” and needed some “relaxation.”

“He’s after her, Ellery!”

“Take it easy, child. I’ll get right down there.”

Ellery was on the upper deck when they came aboard. The glances Martha kept darting over her shoulder were aimed at invisible enemies. Harrison seemed to be reassuring her; he kept stroking her arm, kneading it, laughing.

Ellery saw no sign of Dirk.

They came topside and sat down in the stern, and after Ellery made a tour of the boat he returned to the upper deck and settled himself in an uncomfortable shadow to watch. He was trapped for at least two hours, the time it would take the ferry to cross the Upper Bay and plow back; and he thought with some bitterness of Dirk, ensconced in an air-cooled pub somewhere and doubtless enjoying himself in his Dostoyevskian fashion.

It was a muggy night, and the crowded ferry trundled through the bay in the heat like an old woman sighing. What breeze there was came piped from a furnace. Passengers squirmed in their sticky clothes and, feeling like a fly caught in flypaper, Ellery squirmed with them.

Only the lovers seemed oblivious. Martha was doing most of the talking tonight, with Harrison bent over, forearms on his thighs, listening. But whether she was making plans aloud, or pleading, or professing her fears — whether Harrison was listening with gravity or a smile — Ellery could not tell. When Harrison spoke, Martha leaned back to rest her head against the cabin. But it would be only for a moment, and then they resumed their roles.

Ellery continued to squirm.

They did not leave the municipal ferry terminal in St. George. Harrison bought some cigarets, that was all. On the return trip they sat near the bow. Martha continued her monologue.

Ellery yawned.

The lights of lower Manhattan were beginning to glimmer when Martha suddenly held something out to the silent man at her side. Harrison was lighting a cigaret at that moment, and in the brief flare Ellery saw what the something was.

It was a flattish package, like the one she had slipped to the actor that night in the Chinese Rathskeller.

Harrison glanced sidewise and down without taking the match from his cigaret.

He smiled.

His hand reached for the package as the match went out.

Nikki was watching television with Inspector Queen when Ellery got home. The Inspector took one look at his face and snapped off the set.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” said Nikki. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Dirk didn’t show. At least, I didn’t spot him.” Ellery stripped his jacket off and sank into a chair. “There’s something I’ve neglected to do.”

His father grunted and went out into the kitchen for the pitcher of lemonade.

“What?” asked Nikki.

“She slipped him another of those packages tonight. That makes two I’ve seen her give him since this began. I’m beginning to wonder how many I’ve missed. I’m pretty sure those packages contained money, and lots of it. I should have checked before this.”

“Money,” said Nikki, making a face. “You mean Martha’s... keeping him?”

“Hard words,” said Ellery. “But I don’t believe there’s any question about their accuracy.”

The Inspector came in and silently poured. Nikki clutched her glass and stared into it.

“For this, Dad, I’m going to need your help. Nikki, where does Martha bank?”

“The Hamilton National, Sutton branch.”

“Do you suppose,” Ellery asked his father, “you could get a confidential report for me from the Hamilton National?”

“Report on what?”

“All checks drawn by Martha Lawrence in the last two months or so. Nikki, does Martha have a substantial savings account in the same bank?”

“I think so. One of them, anyway.”

“A report on any large cash withdrawals from the savings account in the same period, Dad.”

“All right.”

“And while you’re about it, you may as well get a bank report on Harrison, especially of his savings account. He has a checking account in the Darien bank, probably for ordinary purposes — I spotted a couple of blank checkbook refills in his desk the night I was there — but I also saw some mail deposit envelopes of the Times Square branch of the United Savings Bank and the 48th Street branch of the Consumers Savings, and those are the accounts I’m interested in.”

The Inspector had the information in three days. Martha had drawn no checks specifically to Van Harrison, but she had drawn numerous checks to Cash for large round sums, and her savings account showed withdrawals of other large sums. And Van Harrison’s savings accounts showed deposits in identical amounts. The juxtaposition of dates corroborated the affinity of the two sets of accounts. Some of Martha’s withdrawals had no counterparts in Harrison’s deposits; these indicated the likelihood, as Inspector Queen pointed out, that Harrison had savings accounts in other banks.

“Adding them all up, Ellery, she’s forked over around fifty grand to this Romeo in the last couple of months. Man, that’s sex appeal.”

“How can she be such a fool!” wailed Nikki. “Can’t she see that’s all he’s after?”

“How long would you say, Nikki, she can keep this up?” asked the Inspector.

“Too long. Martha has a fortune. I suppose fifty thousand dollars doesn’t seem like awfully much to her. But if Dirk ever finds out—!”

Ellery said nothing. He kept looking at the bank reports and worrying the knuckles of his thumbs.

A few days later Nikki came to him in distress.

“This morning, when I got the mail, Dirk almost caught me opening the T letter. He’s begun to get up early, something he hasn’t done since I came. And Martha’s attitude toward me — it’s become strained, resentful. I’d leave today if I didn’t feel I oughtn’t to until I’m forced out. But you...”

Ellery massaged the back of her neck. “No,” he said, “it’s more important than ever to stick it out.”

“Ellery...”

“Yes, Nik.”

“I think he knows... more than we thought he did.”

Ellery’s hand stopped. “What makes you say that?”

“He caught Martha looking into the guidebook this morning.”

“The Maas? How? How did it happen?”

“We were in the study with the door to the living room shut. I was at the typewriter and he was walking around dictating. It wasn’t going well — he didn’t seem to have his mind on it. As if he were listening for something.” Nikki moistened her lips. “All of a sudden he ran over to the door and yanked it open. Martha was at the bookshelf, turning the pages of the guidebook. I thought she would faint — I know I almost did. Dirk said in a funny voice, ‘What are you doing, Marty?’ She said, ‘Nothing... nothing, dear. I was just looking up something.’ ‘In what? What’s that book?’ he said. She did the only thing I suppose she could do — she pretended to get angry and said, ‘Does it matter?’ And out she marched in a huff, with the book under her arm. I suppose by now she’s copied out the rest of the code places and destroyed the book. Only — it’s too late, Ellery.”

“He said something to you?”

“He didn’t have to. He shut the door and when he turned around his mouth was twisted at the corner — you know the trick he has. It was a sort of knowing twist...” Nikki shivered. “I can’t explain it, I only know what it meant. It meant he knew all about the book. It meant...”

“That he’s probably taken a list of the ringed places.” Ellery slowly reached for his pipe. “And if that’s the case, I’d better start trailing him.”

The Trinity Church tryst, according to Harrison’s latest note, was to be at nine o’clock the following night. Martha left early that morning for an all-day rehearsal, saying, “Don’t wait dinner for me. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.” Dirk said, “All right,” in a quiet way, and he spent most of the day struggling with his novel. At six-thirty he said, “That’s enough for today, Nikki. I think I’ll go out for dinner,” and he went into his bedroom and shut the door. Nikki waited until she heard the shower running, then she phoned Ellery. By the time Dirk left the apartment, Ellery was parked around the corner.

Dirk walked over to his garage. A few minutes later he rolled out at the wheel of his Buick Roadmaster, a gift from Martha.

He drove slowly south. Ellery had no difficulty following him.

At 14th Street Dirk swung west. When he got to Union Square he turned south again, into Broadway. He parked near East 7th Street and walked around the corner to McSorley’s Old Ale House, one of the few spots in New York which barred women. It seemed to Ellery symbolic, and the symbolism ominous.

When Dirk came out he drove downtown at a faster pace, as if he were getting impatient. By this time it was growing dark.

It was twenty minutes to nine when the Buick turned into Pine Street and parked. Broadway was quiet and Trinity Place was deserted.

Dirk got out. He peered across the street for a moment, then he walked restlessly down to the corner of Wall Street, crossed Broadway, and walked back up the other side to the silent church. Ellery, watching from the southeast corner of Broadway and Cedar Street, saw him walk up to the door and disappear in the shadows.

The hands of Ellery’s wristwatch crept toward the hour mark. Ellery felt tight all over. He had tried to find out if Dirk’s .45 was gone from its drawer, but Nikki had had no time to check. If Dirk had taken it with him...

At two minutes to nine Ellery pulled his hat lower and crossed Broadway. He would have to chance Dirk’s recognizing him.

As he reached the opposite sidewalk a car bore down from the direction of City Hall Park and slid to rest outside the churchyard near the corner of Wall Street. It was the red convertible. Harrison was alone.

Dirk stepped out of the shadows of the church and drifted, across Broadway toward Pine Street. Ellery let his breath out.

Ellery strode back up Broadway toward his own car. He had almost reached it when a taxi sped by. It was Martha.

Dirk saw her, too. He disappeared on the run, toward his Buick. But he was too late. The cab slammed to a stop, Martha jumped out, she tumbled into the convertible, and it roared away.

Harrison had kept his motor running.

By the time the Buick swung into Broadway, the convertible had turned into Exchange Place and was gone.

Dirk raced up and down and up the dark cross streets of the financial district as if he were demented.

“Just when he got on to this,” Ellery said to Nikki the next time she was able to slip away, “I don’t know. But he’s on to it, and he’s not making a scene because he doesn’t want Martha knowing he knows. It’s bad, Nikki, bad. What he’s trying to do is...”

“Find out how far it’s gone,” mumbled Nikki.

“I’m afraid so. From Dirk’s viewpoint, you can hardly blame him. He knows now that they’ve been meeting secretly, he knows Martha’s lied to him consistently, and if he suspects the worst — well, who wouldn’t? If I were in his shoes, I’d probably do just what he’s doing. I’d want to know, as you put it, how far it’s gone. — Nikki.”

“Yes?” Nikki was all drawn up in the chair, as if she were cold.

“Did he have the gun with him?”

“Yes.”

Ellery said slowly: “I’m going to have to come out in the open, Nikki. As far as I can see, it’s all that’s left.”

Nikki opened the door of the Lawrence apartment and said, “Thank God. Another minute and he’d have gone.”

“I watched her leave. Where is he?”

“In the bedroom.”

Ellery walked into Dirk’s bedroom without knocking. Dirk was standing at the bureau, his hand in an open drawer. He whirled. His dark face smoothed. With his back he shut the drawer.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said.

“Hello, Dirk. I hope I haven’t dropped in at the wrong time. Were you going out?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. And I’m in something of a rush. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow for a drink?” Dirk began putting his jacket on.

“Because tomorrow may be too late.”

Dirk’s arms remained aloft for a moment. Then they came down, and he said lightly, “What profound meaning underlies that remark, Professor?”

“I think you know.”

Dirk looked at him. Then he snatched his hat from the bureau and strode toward the door. “Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Dirk’s face was very close to his. “She’s been meeting him on the sly. God knows for how long. Van Harrison, that ham has-been. This isn’t a figment of a disturbed imagination, my friend. They’ve got a cute little code system worked out which tells her where and when to meet him. Right now she’s on her way to the UN building — the rendezvous for tonight. The other night I almost caught them down at Trinity Church. They meet and they go somewhere. Where? That’s what I want to know. What do they do when they get there? That’s what I’m going to find out. And when I do... Ellery, get out of my way.”

Ellery did not stir. “And when you do, Dirk, what?”

“Out of my way, I said.”

“What, Dirk?”

Dirk said through his teeth: “One side!”

“I’m sorry. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

Dirk’s right shoulder came up. Ellery slipped inside the punch and pushed. Dirk fell over backward, landing on his shoulder blades on the bed. As Dirk bounced up, Ellery pushed him back again. Without slowing his stride he went to the bureau and opened the top drawer. He heard Dirk’s rush coming and he turned around with the .45.

“Sit down, Dirk.”

Dirk stood there, his dark eyes flaming. “Brother Queen!”

“All right, stand,” Ellery said. “She’s meeting this actor on and off, and maybe it’s what it looks like. But I can’t see the point of this gun, Dirk. What would it prove? That you’re a better man than he is?”

“Yes!” said Dirk.

“Or does that seem like a sensible way of getting Martha back? It’s no good, Dirk. It’s no solution. For you or for Martha.”

Dirk grinned. At least, it was a sort of grin. He drew his lips back, and the canines showed.

“Dirk, I’m going to take this gun away with me, and I want you to promise you won’t buy another.”

“You sanctimonious jerk,” said Dirk. “Do you think you can sermonize me into turning the other cheek? Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what they’re doing to me? Me! They’re killing me, one piece at a time! And they’re spitting on every last bloody piece! There’s nothing left! Nothing!” He stopped, swallowing. Then he said, “You’ve got no right. Give me my gun.”

Ellery said, “No.”

“Give it to me.”

“No, Dirk.”

The dark face twitched. Then Dirk looked down, and Ellery, puzzled, followed Dirk’s glance to its destination.

He was looking at his hands.

When Ellery looked up, Dirk was smiling. “The hell with a gun,” said Dirk.

He turned on his heel and walked out.

At three in the morning Inspector Queen was awakened by strange noises. He reached for his Police Positive and went into the living room on the run, his nightshirt flapping.

Ellery was sitting on the foyer floor.

“Greetings and salutations,” said Ellery.

His father stared. “Hi.”

“I’m sober,” said Ellery.

“Oh?” said his father. “Yeah. Yeah, son.” He went over and tugged.

“Gun,” said Ellery, pointing a wavering finger at the Police Positive. “No, that’s not it. I buried his gun in the East River. Heaved it. No more gun, Daddy.”

“Come on, son, I’ll get you to bed.”

“Know what I am?” said Ellery. “I’m a pooped-out poop. Believe in heaving guns. So what? So no guns. So there you are.” He waved his arms. “You think. But you know what you know in your heart? You’re a pooped-out poop. Because you know something? He’s right. Lot of people would say he’s right. You know something?”

“Come on, son.”

“Maybe I’d say it myself. Guns!”

Ellery put his arms around his father and wept.

There were no letters for the V and W meetings. Ellery witnessed them because he shadowed Martha day and night. Apparently the appointments were made from a public telephone booth, for which he breathed a prayer of thanks. It meant that for these, at least, Dirk would not be on the trail.

Martha must have called the letter-code system off.

“She knows,” Nikki said. “She knows he knows.”

Ellery saw her meet Harrison on the sidewalk before the offices of Variety on West 46th Street. He was not interested in them. He had eyes only for the terrain.

It was all right. Dirk was not there.

Ellery let them go.

Again, they met among the booths in the main shed of Washington Market, surrounded by the perfect vegetables and immaculate meats and jarred delicacies of the world. Harrison kissed her perfunctorily and seemed more disposed to stroll about, but Martha hurried him off, and they left by the West Street entrance to cross to the parking space below the elevated express highway, get into Harrison’s car, and drive away.

Ellery had parked his car nearby, and he followed. He kept looking behind him. Dirk’s shadow lurked everywhere.

Harrison drove slowly, avoiding the highway for the crowded streets. The convertible bore gradually uptown. Again it was Martha who seemed to be doing most of the talking. Occasionally Harrison turned to her, and Ellery caught a scowl on the perfect profile.

But when the actor let Martha out at Eighth Avenue and 41st Street, he watched her for a moment, and then he drove off smiling.

Martha went the rest of the way on foot to the theater where her company was rehearsing. She did not look back. She walked like a middle-aged woman.

Harrison’s departing smile kept hectoring Ellery. It had seemed curiously contented.

When Nikki phoned that night, Ellery shouted at her.

Nikki did not shout back. She crept into bed and pulled the sheet over her eyes.