Read Online Queens Full by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online Page A

Bluefield’s opening words: “Alone at last.”
    They were assembled onstage under the working lights. Scutney had hopped up on a set chair.
    â€œYou’ll all be happy to hear that we’re going right ahead with The Death of Don Juan .” He raised his little paw for silence. “With due respect to the late Foster Benedict, he saw fit to make a farcical joke out of our production. We’re going to do it properly .”
    Someone called out, “But, Mr. Bluefield, we don’t have a Don Juan.”
    Scutney showed his teeth. “Ah, but we will have, and a good one, too. I shan’t disclose his name because I haven’t completed the business arrangements. He should be joining us the day after tomorrow.
    â€œI spent most of yesterday making cuts and line changes and revising some of the business, especially in Act One, where I think we’ve been in danger of wrong audience reactions. Today and tomorrow we’ll go over the changes, so we ought to be in good shape when our new Don Juan gets here. Meanwhile, as a favor to me, Mr. Manson has kindly consented to walk through the part for us. Does anyone need a pencil—?”
    They plunged into the work with relief.
    The day passed quickly. Sandwiches and coffee were brought in twice. There was only one interruption, when a tabloid photographer tried to get into the theater by stretching a ladder across the alley between a window in the next building and the Playhouse roof. But he was intercepted, and an extra policeman was assigned to the roof.
    It was almost ten o’clock when Scutney called a halt.
    The company began to disperse.
    â€œNot you, Miss Truslow!”
    Joan stopped in her tracks. It was Chief Newby.
    â€œI haven’t wanted to interfere with Mr. Bluefied’s working day. But now, Miss Truslow, you and I are going to have a real old-fashioned heart-to-heart talk. Whether it takes five minutes or all night is up to you. I think you know what I’m talking about.”
    Joan groped for one of the set chairs. “I have nothing to tell you! Why won’t you let me alone?”
    â€œShe’s out on her feet, Chief,” Roger protested. “Can’t this wait?”
    â€œNot any more,” Newby said quietly. “You stay where you are, Miss Truslow, while I get rid of those newspapermen outside. I don’t want the papers in on this just yet. I’ll come back for you when the street’s clear.”
    The theater emptied. Lights began winking out. One harsh spotlight remained onstage. Joan cowered in its glare.
    â€œRoger, what am I going to do? I don’t know what to do.”
    â€œYou know what to do, Joanie,” Roger said gently.
    â€œHe won’t let go of me till …”
    â€œTill what? Till you tell him what you’re hiding?” Roger pushed a curl of damp blond hair back from her forehead. “I know you’ve been hiding something, darling. I’ve known it longer than Newby. What is it? Can’t you tell even me?”
    Joan’s hands quivered in her lap.
    â€œHe’s bound to get it out of you tonight.”
    â€œRodge—I’m afraid.”
    â€œThat’s why I want you to share it with me, baby. Look, Joan, I love you. What good would I be if I didn’t share your troubles?”
    â€œRodge …”
    â€œTell me.”
    She swallowed twice, hard, looking around nervously. The deep silence of the theater seemed to reassure her.
    â€œAll right. All right, Rodge … The other night—during the intermission—when I was in my dressing room feeling so hurt by Foster’s not remembering me …”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI decided to go down to his dressing room and—and … Oh, Rodge, I don’t know why I wanted to! Maybe to tell him what I thought of him …”
    â€œHurry it up,” Roger urged her. “The reason doesn’t matter! What happened?”
    â€œI was