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Authors: Jack Vance, Ellery Queen
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care to listen.
Ann drove back
to San Rafael seething. What an abominable man! Small wonder that his fiancée
had chosen to marry someone else at the first opportunity.
CHAPTER 5
In San Rafael,
Ann pulled into a service station, phoned the sheriff’s office, and asked for
Inspector Tarr.
Tarr’s easy
voice issued from the receiver, and into Ann’s mind came an image of his solid
body lounging at his desk. “This is Ann Nelson. You asked me to call you.”
“Oh, yes.” Tarr’s
voice took on a different note. “Where are you now?”
Ann told him.
“Wait,” said
Tarr. “I’ll be right there. And if you’re not too proud, I’ll buy you a cup of
coffee.”
Ann returned to
her car, of half a mind to drive off. Tarr’s assurance was almost as
infuriating as Martin Jones’s boorishness. But she waited. Tarr, after all, was
investigating her father’s death.
Tarr took his
time. Five minutes became ten, then fifteen. Ann’s mood darkened. Then the
detective appeared in the police car, parked, and jumped to the ground in great
haste. “Sorry, Miss Nelson, but I got hung up on the telephone. Some tiresome old
idiot. There’s an ice-cream parlor just around the corner. Faster to walk than
drive.”
Ann got out of
her car, ignoring Tarr’s proffered hand.
At the ice-cream
parlor she refused his suggestion of a fudge sundae, primly accepting a cup of
coffee. To her surprise, he brought out his notebook. “I haven’t been able to
locate your mother. Harvey Gluck says that to the best of his knowledge she’s
still in the San Francisco area. States that he hasn’t communicated with her
for several months. He’s indefinite as to the exact date. I’m wondering if you
can give me any leads.”
Ann shook her
head. “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.”
“Does she have
any relatives? Sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles?”
“She has a
married brother in New Jersey and some cousins in North Carolina, but I don’t
know their addresses.”
“What are their
names?”
Ann told him,
and Tarr made note of them.
“What about
friends? Any old cronies, school chums?”
Ann considered. “I
don’t believe she had any special friends, although I don’t know for sure.
Harvey Gluck would know better than I.”
“He gave me some
names, but they weren’t any help. One of these people said that she’d been
talking about Honolulu.”
“That should be
easy enough to check,” said Ann. “She hated airplanes. Try the Matson line.”
Tarr made a
note. “Anything else?”
Ann said, “She
was a hypochondriac. Belonged to the Disease-of-the-Month Club, as my father
expressed it. She took her astrology pretty seriously, too.”
“That doesn’t
help much.” Tarr tucked the notebook back in his pocket. “How did your lunch
with the Cyprianos come off?”
“Very nicely. I
think it was at Mr. Cypriano’s instigation. He wants that chess set—it belonged
to him at one time, he says. He’s got practically a chess museum in his house.”
“Are you going
to let him have it?”
“I suppose so.
It means nothing to me. Incidentally, Martin Jones wants me to clear out my
father’s belongings.”
“He’ll have to
wait. I’m not finished there yet. When did you see him?”
“Today. I drove
out past the house.”
Tarr frowned. “If
I were you . . .” He paused.
“Well?”
“I don’t want to
alarm you, but remember that a crime has been committed. A blackmailer usually
isn’t vicious or violent, but there are exceptions.”
The warning
startled her. Roland Nelson’s death, though puzzling, had seemed remote. The
thought that she might personally be in danger was shocking. Ann said in a
subdued voice, “I guess I’ve led too sheltered a life. Do you mean that I
shouldn’t ever go anywhere alone?”
“If you’d like
round-the-clock police protection, I could arrange it.” At Ann’s look, Tarr
said with a grin, “I’ve got a two-week vacation coming up. I can’t think of
Ann drove back
to San Rafael seething. What an abominable man! Small wonder that his fiancée
had chosen to marry someone else at the first opportunity.
CHAPTER 5
In San Rafael,
Ann pulled into a service station, phoned the sheriff’s office, and asked for
Inspector Tarr.
Tarr’s easy
voice issued from the receiver, and into Ann’s mind came an image of his solid
body lounging at his desk. “This is Ann Nelson. You asked me to call you.”
“Oh, yes.” Tarr’s
voice took on a different note. “Where are you now?”
Ann told him.
“Wait,” said
Tarr. “I’ll be right there. And if you’re not too proud, I’ll buy you a cup of
coffee.”
Ann returned to
her car, of half a mind to drive off. Tarr’s assurance was almost as
infuriating as Martin Jones’s boorishness. But she waited. Tarr, after all, was
investigating her father’s death.
Tarr took his
time. Five minutes became ten, then fifteen. Ann’s mood darkened. Then the
detective appeared in the police car, parked, and jumped to the ground in great
haste. “Sorry, Miss Nelson, but I got hung up on the telephone. Some tiresome old
idiot. There’s an ice-cream parlor just around the corner. Faster to walk than
drive.”
Ann got out of
her car, ignoring Tarr’s proffered hand.
At the ice-cream
parlor she refused his suggestion of a fudge sundae, primly accepting a cup of
coffee. To her surprise, he brought out his notebook. “I haven’t been able to
locate your mother. Harvey Gluck says that to the best of his knowledge she’s
still in the San Francisco area. States that he hasn’t communicated with her
for several months. He’s indefinite as to the exact date. I’m wondering if you
can give me any leads.”
Ann shook her
head. “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.”
“Does she have
any relatives? Sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles?”
“She has a
married brother in New Jersey and some cousins in North Carolina, but I don’t
know their addresses.”
“What are their
names?”
Ann told him,
and Tarr made note of them.
“What about
friends? Any old cronies, school chums?”
Ann considered. “I
don’t believe she had any special friends, although I don’t know for sure.
Harvey Gluck would know better than I.”
“He gave me some
names, but they weren’t any help. One of these people said that she’d been
talking about Honolulu.”
“That should be
easy enough to check,” said Ann. “She hated airplanes. Try the Matson line.”
Tarr made a
note. “Anything else?”
Ann said, “She
was a hypochondriac. Belonged to the Disease-of-the-Month Club, as my father
expressed it. She took her astrology pretty seriously, too.”
“That doesn’t
help much.” Tarr tucked the notebook back in his pocket. “How did your lunch
with the Cyprianos come off?”
“Very nicely. I
think it was at Mr. Cypriano’s instigation. He wants that chess set—it belonged
to him at one time, he says. He’s got practically a chess museum in his house.”
“Are you going
to let him have it?”
“I suppose so.
It means nothing to me. Incidentally, Martin Jones wants me to clear out my
father’s belongings.”
“He’ll have to
wait. I’m not finished there yet. When did you see him?”
“Today. I drove
out past the house.”
Tarr frowned. “If
I were you . . .” He paused.
“Well?”
“I don’t want to
alarm you, but remember that a crime has been committed. A blackmailer usually
isn’t vicious or violent, but there are exceptions.”
The warning
startled her. Roland Nelson’s death, though puzzling, had seemed remote. The
thought that she might personally be in danger was shocking. Ann said in a
subdued voice, “I guess I’ve led too sheltered a life. Do you mean that I
shouldn’t ever go anywhere alone?”
“If you’d like
round-the-clock police protection, I could arrange it.” At Ann’s look, Tarr
said with a grin, “I’ve got a two-week vacation coming up. I can’t think of
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