Read Online Dead Man's Tale by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online

you’re married!”
    She shook her head. “Silly.”
    I put the robe on and she prodded me ahead of her out into the living room. I began to feel like fifty-seven varieties of damn fool.
    I recognized him right away. He was the orchestra leader at the Kursaal garden.
    He opened his mouth and made a loud noise, then charged.
    He swung, wrapping his arm around my neck. I shoved him away. His fist bounced off my shoulder. So I swung—and missed. It was like one of those quickie movie fights, very badly directed. We moved around each other like a couple of hams in a vaudeville show.
    I pushed with both hands flat against his chest and gave T—a despairing look. She seemed amused. But looking at her was a mistake. He hit me in the stomach and I doubled over.
    When I straightened up, my head butted his face. Right away his nose started to bleed. He snuffled, but the blood ran like a faucet.
    â€œIt’s his poor nose!” T—cried. She took him by the arm and led him, unresisting, to the sofa. He stretched out on his back with his head dangling over the edge. “Quick,” T—told me. “Get a wet towel.” Would you believe it? I ran for one.
    She frowned at me when I got back. “No, no! Wring it out.”
    So I went back to the bathroom and wrung out the towel. When I brought it back, Kemka snatched it from me, glaring. They seemed to know just what to do. So after a while I went into the bedroom and got dressed.
    When I returned, the bleeding had stopped and T—was patting Kemka’s hand. “I’ll be out of here in the morning,” she said in German.
    Kemka must have felt ridiculous. I know I sure did.
    â€œAre you all right?” I asked.
    â€œ Ja, ja, ” he said. “It is nothing. The nose bleeds easily, that’s all.”
    â€œWell, can I get you a cab?”
    My fatuous solicitude practically made him speechless. All he could say was “I live here.” He had me there. I picked up my hat.
    T—walked me into the hall. “I’ll call you in the morning,” she said. “Where are you staying?”
    â€œThe Montana. Is it—I mean, will you be—?”
    â€œWhen his nose bleeds like that he moves around for at least a day as if he is made from china.”
    When I kissed her she began to giggle. “His eyes,” she whispered. “Did you see his eyes? He was furious.”
    She pushed me gently from Kemka’s apartment.

10
    â€œNo, listen, Ron,” Estelle Street said into the telephone. “He was from the legal affairs section of the State Department.”
    â€œI still say you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” Ronald Hurley told her.
    â€œBut Barney’s will hasn’t been probated yet, has it?”
    â€œI’m your lawyer, Estelle. Let me handle this.”
    â€œHas it?”
    â€œWell, no.”
    â€œThe State Department lawyer knew the name of the beneficiary. I’m worried, Ron. I’m scared sick. I don’t want to lose that money, do you hear me? I don’t want to lose it.”
    â€œWell, you can stop your worrying. I said I’d handle it.”
    â€œBut what if Milo Hacha’s alive?”
    â€œI don’t care if he’s alive and has fourteen starving kids,” Hurley said. “I can conduct the best investigation on paper you ever saw.” He laughed. “And I’ve got friends when the time comes for probation. So will you just calm down?”
    â€œHow can I calm down? Steve Longacre found out that Hacha was still alive. He wrote me from Holland.”
    â€œFrom Holland? What the hell are you talking about?”
    Estelle told him. Then she said, “Don’t you see, Ron? If you do it your way, even if you’re successful, I’ll spend the rest of my life expecting him to turn up.”
    â€œYou idiot! It was Steve’s poking around that got the State Department interested. If you had