THE MAD HATTERÅ‚S RIDDLE

by Dale C.
Andrews

 

Dale Andrews returns this month with his
second Ellery Queen pastiche. His first, “The Book Case," which he co-authored
with Kurt Sercu, was published in our Department of First Stories in May, 2007,
won second place in the Readers Award competi-tion for that year, and was
nominated for the 2008 Barry Award for Best Short Story. Mr. Andrews describes
himself as a “recovering attorney," having recently retired from the United
States Department of Transportation, where he was Deputy Assistant General
Counsel.

 

* * * *

 



 

Art by
Laurie Harden

 

* * * *

 

“But I donÅ‚t want to go among mad
people," Alice remarked.

 

“Oh, you canÅ‚t help that," said the Cat;
“weÅ‚re all mad here. IÅ‚m mad. YouÅ‚re mad."

 

“How do you know IÅ‚m mad?" said Alice.

 

“You must be," said the Cat, “or you
would not have come here."

 

Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

 

“It is a well known fact that anyone
exposed to Hollywood longer than six weeks goes suddenly and incurably mad."

 

Ellery Queen, The Four of Hearts

 

Hollywood, California, September 21,
1975

 

NBC Neither King nor Queen on Thursdays

 

by Paula Paris

 

The latest Nielsens confirm a continuing
slide in NBCÅ‚s Thursday-night ratings. Particularly troubling to the Peacock
brass are the numbers for the Ellery Queen skein anchoring the 9:00 hour. While
the Queen pilot played well last spring, the weekly outings debuted middle of
the pack in September and have been sliding a bit deeper every week. The
detective opus, presented as a throwback set in the late 1940s, met with good
reviews but is still searching for an audience.

 

Now Universal reports that the series is
about to get a jolt of some nostalgia caffeine. In a planned up-coming episode,
based on an actual Queenshort story, “The Mad Tea Party," Hollywood legends
Bonnie Stuart and Ty Royle have been cast in leading roles. This will be the
first time intwenty-five years that the once-married duo has appeared at all,
let alone together. Bonnie, an inveterate recluse, rarely leaves her
mountainretreat. And Ty, somewhat of a hermithimself, swore years ago, after
severalnotably uneven productions, that he would rather die than return to
acting.

 

“The Adventure of the Mad Tea Party," originally
written by Ellery Queen in 1934 and derived from the work of Lewis Carroll, is
one of the authorłs most popular stories. What a vehicle to reunite these
fabled stars of yesteryear!

 

Upon later reflection, Ellery Queen
would think of 1975 as a transitional year. The national disruption of
Watergate had receded; Viet Nam, with the fall of Saigon, was unalterably
behind us. Rex Stout, P.G. Wodehouse, and Thornton Wilder would leave us behind
forever. And in a year of changes, the twentieth century, three-quarters
through, would pause for a quick breath as it prepared for the final
twenty-five-year dash to the millennium.

 

But such historical ruminations were for
later. On a Thursday morning in early October, Mr. Queen was grappling with
more fundamental concerns. The cross-country flight west to Los Angeles had
been bumpy, particularly over the Rockies, and he had been bone-weary when the
cab deposited him at a Beverly Hills address, where someone from Universal
Studios (and Ellery could not even remember who) had shouldered his bag and
showed him to the room where he had finally stumbled into bed. But his sleep
had been fitful, and by morning he still found himself more than a little
disoriented in time, thick of tongue, and feeling every bit of his seventy
years. Mr. Queen lamented the loss of the leisurely cross-country Pullman trips
of yore and grumbled, not for the first time, how flying so unforgivably takes
the travel out of travel.

 

It was the smell of coffee, and the
promise of its alchemy, that finally drew Ellery out of his room and down the
long hall to the kitchen. A slender figure looked up from the table as Ellery
entered. Recognition dawned, but slowly. As Hollywood had changed since the
nineteen thirties, so too had Jacques Butcher, who now bore little resemblance
to the young producer who, thirty-five years before, had been the boy wonder of
Magna Studios. While still lithe, Butcher, attired in jeans and a Western
shirt, now sported a shock of snow-white hair and a cracked and ruddy complexion
that bore witness to decades of the relentless California sun. Ellery offered
his hand, but was instead engulfed in a bear hug.

 

“The Boy Wonder!" Ellery smiled, pushing
himself back to at least armÅ‚s length. “Hollywood is still treating you well,
Jack."

 

Butcher snorted. “Hollywood has nothing
to do with it. IÅ‚ve been shed of this town since Magna Studios got swallowed in
the takeover bid and I retreated to my grape arbors." Jacques Butcher appraised
Ellery. “And you, El, are also looking fit. Still writing those convoluted
whodunits?"

 

“No. I gave up writing detective stories
about four years ago. I still edit the magazine. I guess itłs my vineyard."

 

“And the inspector?"

 

“DadÅ‚s fine. He wanted to be here for
the filming, but I had to put my foot down. Hełs far too frail for
coast-to-coast jumps. Hełs still grousing over the fact that in the series
David Wayne is playing him without a moustache." The Boy Wonder smiled as
Ellery continued, “So filming the Ä™Mad Tea PartyÅ‚ episode is what finally
dragged you back to a studio?"

 

“Yeah, but itÅ‚s temporary. The episode
has to be ready to air in six weeks, and thatłs the limit of my contract and my
attention span. When itłs a wrap Iłm headed back to the hills. The producers
twisted my arm when they had the brainstorm of casting Ty and Bonnie as Spencer
and Laura Lockridge in the episode. They said they needed me on board if they
had any hope of roping in those two characters, and they kept hounding me until
I caved. I have to say, they also tempted me by promising that you would be on
board as a consultant for the episode. That sort of clinched it for me."
ButcherÅ‚s smile cracked his leather face into a thousand lines. “We had some
great fun last time around, didnłt we?"

 

“That we did." Ellery smiled back. “But
this time letłs go a little easier on the cognac." Turning serious, Ellery
continued, “The Ty and Bonnie deal surprised me. The Spencer Lockridge part is
a pretty small role for him."

 

Butcher grimaced. “IÅ‚m afraid TyÅ‚s part
canłt be small enough. Not to put too fine a point on it, Tyłs deep into the
bottle. Remember lines? Hełs lucky to remember where he is. He retired from
pictures only when he became unemployable. Those last films, particularly that
beach-blanket vampire thing, were embarrassments. After those, he sulked off to
his Arizona ranch."

 

ElleryÅ‚s pain was visible. “And Bonnie?"

 

Jacques Butcher brightened. “BonnieÅ‚s
great; always has been, always will be."

 

“Still carrying a torch, Jack?"

 

“What? After thirty-five years? Anyway,
shełs a pillar of strength. It showed in every part she ever played. Bonnie
turned her back on Hollywood at the top of her game, and she left her public
clamoring for more. Basically, Bonnie can do anything that she sets her mind
to. Hell, shełs the only reason the marriage to Ty lasted ten years. So once
she settled into her hermit phase she reinvented herself as an investment
manager. She resisted all overtures for a comeback, but that didnłt stop NBC.
The ratings for any show that manages to reunite those two will go through the roof.
Thatłs the challenge that Universal dropped into my lap."

 

“A tall order even for the Boy Wonder,"
Ellery chided.

 

“Too tall. You know what they say,
wolves hunt in packs. So this had to be a team effort. I was in on the hunt,
but so was Rand Canyon. You would have been, too, if you had been out here two
weeks earlier."

 

Ellery raised an eyebrow. “Who is Rand
Canyon, and why is it that people with names like that always seem to end up in
this crazy town?"

 

“Actually," Butcher replied, “the people
usually precede the names. ęStarring Archibald Leach, Leroy Scherer, and Doris
Von Kappelhoffł doesnłt ring like ęstarring Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, and Doris
Day.Å‚ And Rand Canyon sounds a hell of a lot better on a playbill than Beryl
Snatt, which is how Momma Snatt originally sent her little boy off into the
world. When Rand hit Hollywood in the nineteen forties he picked a name to fit
his craggy aspirations, even though the aspirations proved to be a bit north of
the reality. Rand landed some ębest buddył parts in a couple of horse-opera
serials, but that was it. Lucky for him, though, he hit it big in real estate.
Before he retired he spent decades moving property between rising and falling
stars with enviable finesse. And now he helps Bonnie manage her property. Lives
up there at her estate, too, although my understanding is that they are
completely platonic. As I said, Randłs forte has always been the ębest buddy.ł"

 

“So were the two of you also tasked with
securing Tyłs agreement?" Ellery asked.

 

Butcher snorted and shook his head. “No,
Ty and I lost track of each other years ago, and Rand and he never saw
eye-to-eye. Luckily for us, once Bonnie was on board, Ty fell into place like a
domino. As I said, he left Hollywood much more reluctantly than she did. But
even at that it was damned difficult getting them all here and under one roof."

 

Ellery raised an eyebrow. “So Bonnie and
Ty are staying here also? Universal sent me an address to give to the cabbie
but nothing else."

 

Jacques Butcher smiled back. “Yep, weÅ‚ve
got a full house here. Ty and Bonnie had all sorts of demands that would have
made more sense in the forties than in the seventies. The house is part of
that. They originally wanted bungalows on the Universal lot. We explained that
therełs nothing like that on Hollywood lots anymore. Bonniełs ensemble wouldnłt
have fit in a bungalow anyway. So we scouted around and Rand eventually
suggested this place. Itłs for sale, Rand knows the realtor, and itłs huge.
Plus itłs furnishedthe owner removed the personal items, wall hangings and
bric-a-brac stuff, but the furniture was left to help the place look good to
prospects. We put Ty in the smaller wing, Bonnie and her folks are in the
larger one. Universal agreed to rent the place for six weeks, and there was
plenty of extra room for Rand and me to bunk here as well. And thatłs why youłre
here and not at the Beverly Wilshire."

 

“Sounds like IÅ‚ll need a score card to
keep track of the players!"

 

Butcher grinned. “And a difficult lot
they are. The staff were even harder to pry out of the mountains than Bonnie
was. Every one of them was dead set against filming the episode and against the
trip to Hollywood, but we had to drag them along somehow. Bonnie made it clear
that not bringing her people along was a deal breaker. So shełs here with her
assistant, Charles Roethke, her personal secretary Jerri Swanson, and her,
well, ęspiritual advisor,ł I guess youłd call her. A crazy lady who calls
herself ęMadame Sojourner.ł Dealing with the lot of them has been like herding
cats. Roethke and Swanson had a thing for a while, but theyłre now on the outs
and hardly speak to each other. Neither one of them will have anything to do
with the card reader, and she reciprocates by treating each of them like
lepers."

 

“Ty, I hope, travels a little lighter?"

 

“Yep. He only brought along his personal
assistant, Taylor Brandt, who, by the way, was just as insistent that Ty
shouldnłt film the episode. Like everyone else, he was pretty happy with the
status quo and with Ty staying retired. So you can begin to see the mountains
that Rand and I had to move to pull this off."

 

Ellery glanced around the bare walls of
the kitchen and then eyed his wrist watch. “What time are we supposed to leave
for the rehearsals?"

 

Butcher smiled and stretched his long
arms behind his head. “I have no idea, besides the fact that itÅ‚s sometime this
morning. In this town I never worry about time and schedules. When youłre
supposed to be somewhere there are always plenty of people to let you know and
get you there."

 

As if on cue, the door to the kitchen
swung open and a tall man with a winning smile strode into the room. He
crouched in a mock pose and swung around, his right index finger feigning a
six-gun, which he pretended to shoot in the direction of Butcher. The man blinked,
blew the imaginary smoke from his finger, transformed the pistol back into a
hand, and extended it towards Ellery.

 

“Mr. Queen, itÅ‚s an honor to meet you. IÅ‚m
Rand Canyon. Looks like wełre going to be working together."

 

As Ellery mumbled a greeting, Randłs
arms swung out in an all-inclusive gathering gesture. “Time to hit the trail,
gents," he drawled. “Everyone else is already at the studio and our car is
waiting."

 

“See what I mean about this town?"
Jacques Butcher said to Ellery with a conspiratorial wink. “ThereÅ‚s always
someone there to take care of you, and IÅ‚m going to prove it to you." Before he
could react, Butcher reached across the table and pulled Elleryłs watch off his
wrist, deftly pocketing the timepiece. “This is one of my favorite little experiments.
You can have your watch back tomorrow. By then youłll understand."

 

Rand Canyon rolled his eyes and smiled. “Sorry,
Mr. Queen. This is like religion for Jackhe pulls this on everyone who will
let him."

 

“ItÅ‚s Ellery," Queen muttered, rubbing
his bare left wrist. “Call me Ellery."

 

“Oh, by the way," Rand said, “when I was
checking on the car I found this in the front mailbox." He held out a business
envelope bearing Elleryłs name in box letters.

 

“No address or return address," Ellery
mused, examining the envelope. “How did it get here?"

 

Rand Canyon shrugged.

 

“There are delivery services all over
Hollywood. Itłs probably from one of your fans," Jacques Butcher chuckled.
Ellery returned the smile and slid the envelope into his inside jacket pocket.

 

* * * *

 

Thirty minutes later, Ellery, Jacques,
and Rand stood behind a bank of cameras on the sound stage at Universal City.
Ellery crossed his arms and looked through the cameras, the director, and
assorted staff, and admired the New England drawing room in the glow of the
stage lights. The tall, gray-haired man dressed as the Mad Hatter was just
barely recognizable to Ellery. The years had not been kind to Ty Royle. As
Ellery watched, Ty turned to the other cast members and spoke.

 

“You canÅ‚t take more or less when
nothing is very easy at all," he stammered.

 

An exasperated “Cut!" exploded from the
man with tired, stooped shoulders sitting in a collapsible chair next to the
cameras. “Mr. Royle," he muttered through hands that Ellery surmised were
burying his face, “once again, the line is, Ä™You canÅ‚t take less; itÅ‚s
very easy to take more than nothing.ł Thatłs the way Lewis Carroll wrote
it, and thatłs the way you have to say it."

 

Ty threw his outrageous hat to the
floor. “The damned line makes no sense. No sense at all," he snorted.

 

Across the set, a figure dressed as a
door mouse removed its mask, revealing still-golden locks, and suddenly became
Bonnie Stuart. Bonnie crossed the set towards Ty, as Ellery stared transfixed.
The loveliness of her youth had not diminished; it had matured into a jewel
even more precious. Images of pre-war Hollywood flashed through his mind, a
hundred memories of things gone from the world, but still a part of his. He
wiped an errant tear, shook the sepia memories from his head, and watched as
Bonnie Stuart wrapped a loving arm around Ty Royle, all the while explaining
that everything was just fine, that it always was, and that it always would be.

 

“My God," Ellery thought, stunned. “TheyÅ‚re
in love."

 

The man in the collapsible chair sighed
and called out, “Break! Back on the set in fifteen minutes." Ellery began
picking his way through the cameras and cables.

 

“Ellery," Bonnie enthused when she saw
him, offering a cheek, “you are a treat for sore eyes."

 

Ty grinned awkwardly, looking totally
uncomfortable in his Mad Hatter attire. He extended a thin, dry hand and
muttered, “Good to see you again, Queen."

 

But before Ellery could offer more than
a perfunctory greeting, a young NBC page was at his elbow explaining that a
conference on script changes was about to begin.

 

Bonnie smiled as Ellery stammered an
apology while being dragged away. “DonÅ‚t worry," she called after him. “There
will be plenty of time for us to catch up this evening. IÅ‚m..." and she paused,
“actually Ty and I are hosting a little soirée at the house where weÅ‚re all
staying. Wełll expect you promptly at six ołclock for cocktails and a buffet
dinner in the parlor. This will be such fun!"

 

* * * *

 

In fact, Ellery had seldom seen a
sorrier soirée. BonnieÅ‚s secretary, Jerri Swanson, a pretty young thing with
long brown hair, had spent the evening sulking on the sofa, nursing a drink,
dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, and staring daggers at
tall, thin, and elegant Charles Roethke, Bonniełs assistant, across the room.
Charles and Taylor Brandt fawned respectively over Bonnie and Ty and were
uniformly ignored by each. And Madame Sojourner, who had, Ellery had come to
understand from Jacques, a scant fifteen months before, miraculously ascended
from working the checkout line at a Piggly Wiggly in Clarinda, Iowa, swirled
about the room in layers of multicolored silk wrappings, warning everyone in
her ambit of things that only she could see. Through it all, Bonnie and Ty
stared into each othersł eyes, oblivious.

 

Early on, Ellery had embarked on shuttle
diplomacy, moving from person to person in hopes of generating something
approaching cocktail-hour banter. He eventually forsook the task as hopeless
and retreated to a large velvet couch where Madame Sojourner cornered him and
proceeded to wax eloquent on the length of his lifeline. Unimaginably to
Ellery, things progressed from bad to worse.

 

Bonnie stood, tapped her champagne flute
with a fork, and waited for the room to quiet. She smiled nervously and spoke. “These
last few days," she stammered, blinking and edging next to Ty for support, “have
been a whirlwind. Being here in Hollywood again, and being with Ty" she
glanced up adoringly before continuing"I, well ... I certainly thought IÅ‚d
never act again. And certainly not with Ty." She reached tentatively for his
hand and continued, “But as it turns out, I canÅ‚t thank Jacques and Rand enough
for insisting that I ... that we do this. Ty and I, well, itłs been
years and we really donłt even know why we..." She stopped, at a loss for
words, sniffed into her handkerchief, and looked up imploringly at Ty, who
broke the silence. Still holding her hand, he smiled, brushed the gray shock of
hair from his eyes, and gazed out across the room. Ellery marveled that he
suddenly seemed to shed ten years.

 

“Bonnie and I," Ty announced sheepishly,
“are going to be married."

 

“Again!" Bonnie giggled. “And weÅ‚re
moving back to Hollywood!"

 

Behind Ellery someone gagged, several
breaths were quickly drawn in, and Jerri Swansonłs plate dropped, scattering
lasagna and boiled shrimp on the floor. The room froze in awkward silence for a
long moment before Ellery stood, cleared his throat, and offered
congratulations, quickly followed by Jacques and Rand, and then, as the dam
finally broke, by the others in the room. It was long minutes later that
Jacques Butcher caught Elleryłs eye and the two slipped out of the room.

 

* * * *

 

In retreat in the first-floor library,
Ellery exhaled long as Jacques Butcher poured scotch into two tumblers and
handed one to Ellery.

 

“I canÅ‚t tell you how much I wish I was
in a hotel," Ellery groaned. “What was that all about anyway?"

 

Jacques settled into a leather chair
across from Ellery. “I suppose," he said, “it was about change. Jerri and
Charles have carved out a decent life working for Bonnie. And, God knows, that
Sojourner character has certainly landed on easy street. The same goes for
Taylor Brandt, Tyłs assistant. And every one of those apple carts just tipped
over. Bonniełs people kept saying they were only concerned for her health, that
a trip back to Hollywood couldnłt turn out well, but I suspect they were much
more concerned with anything that might destroy their comfortable cocoons.
Probably it was the same with Taylor Brandt. In fact," and Jacques paused
uneasily, “rumor has it that Taylor and Ty may actually be a little more than
just friends. Anyway, I donłt think any of them is looking forward to this
pending marriage."

 

Ellery put down his drink as something
rustled in his inner jacket pocket. He reached in and pulled out the envelope,
still unopened, that he had pocketed that morning. “I had forgotten about this,"
he snorted as he opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
Elleryłs eyebrows knotted as he read.

 

Across the room Jacques Butcher watched
inquiringly until Ellery finally shook his head and handed the sheet to him. “What,
pray tell, do you make of this?"

 

Butcher proceeded to read out loud the
typewritten poem on the sheet of paper.

 

* * * *

 

EAGER EYE AND WILLING EAR

 



 

Tunnels for hares

 

Red garb for the guard,

 

Insolent Cheshire,

 

Poemsquite hard.

 



 

Rehearsals, intriguing

 

“Eat me" (your fill)

 

“Quite curious," thought Alice

 

Until she fell ill.

 



 

In just the beginning the

 

Red Kingłs asleep.

 

“Enough of that subject,"

 

Dumpty yells ęfore his leap.

 



 

No chance to succeed with

 

One there, alone.

 

Chances are better

 

Having two on the throne.

 



 

A warning, in verse,

 

No time to ignore

 

Completed, we stand

 

Entirely restored!

 



 

Synergistic solutions from lessons of
yore.

 

* * * *

 

“WhatÅ‚s this all about?" Butcher asked
incredulously. “Is this something from Alice in Wonderland?"

 

“I donÅ‚t think so," said Ellery. “It
appears to derive from Lewis Carroll, but I think itłs a pastiche of some sort."
Ellery puzzled over the page for a few minutes and then his eyes widened and he
laughed in amazement. “IÅ‚ll be right back," he said. “I need to get something
from my room."

 

When Ellery returned he carried a
volume, The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll, under his arm. He sat down
again and asked, “Are you a fan of Carroll?"

 

“As a kid, I suppose. Not recently,"
Butcher responded.

 

“Lewis Carroll," Ellery continued “was
the pseudonym of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, a mathematician who wrote both Alicełs
Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Dodgson
denied that either book was written with a real Alice in mind, but there is a
poem near the end of Through the Looking-Glass that belies that denial."
Ellery thumbed through the volume, located a page containing a poem, and pushed
the book towards Butcher. “CarrollÅ‚s poem has no title, but the fifth line is
the title of this poem: ęEager Eye and Willing Ear.ł And do you know what was
particularly famous about this untitled poem?"

 

Butcher shook his head.

 

“The poem is famous," Ellery continued, “because
it is an acrostic. If you read down the first letter of each line it reveals
the name of the real Alice: Alice Pleasance Liddell. So, Jack, tell me:
Applying the same formula, what does this poem reveal to us?"

 

Jacques Butcher studied the poem and
emitted a low whistle. “Read down," he said, “the first letter of each line
spells out ętrip required no chances.ł" He shook his head in bewilderment as
though trying to clear cobwebs. “But what does this have to do with anything?"

 

“IÅ‚m damned if I know," Ellery replied. “The
poem alludes to the works of Carroll. And the references to the desirability of
two people working together rather than apart, that could be relevant to the
re-pairing of Ty and Bonnie in the ęMad Tea Partył episode. Youłve already explained
the effort it took to get them to agree to this, and that everyone around them
was dead set against the plan and the trip to Hollywood. The acrostic might be
addressing thisit advises that, in fact, the ętrip required no chances.ł But
the obvious question remains ęSo what?ł Bonnie and Ty are here. We are about to
film. Who would construct something this elaborate, after the fact, and then
send it to me?"

 

“YouÅ‚ve got me," Butcher replied.

 

“Ahh, well," Ellery sighed. “ItÅ‚s
probably just someonełs idea of a joke." Ellery folded the paper and returned
it to his pocket. “LetÅ‚s take a look at those script changes."

 

* * * *

 

Ellery and Jacques were lost in the
script when Rand eventually entered the library. He smiled and shook his head. “Seems
like Iłm still the babysitter for you two. This weekłs Ellery Queen episode is
on in a few minutes. I think itłs the one about the elevator murder. Wouldnłt
want to miss that," he enthused. Reaching for the phone at the bar, Rand
continued, “Just enough time to take care of this." Lifting the phone, he
dialed and after a few seconds spoke into the receiver. “Hello, Jerri? Rand
here. Ty asked me to call and let Bonnie know hełs not up to working on the
script any more tonight. Said to give her his love and tell her that he will
see her tomorrow."

 

Rand hung up the phone and busied
himself at the bar. “Voila," he exclaimed after a few seconds as a wall
of books across from Ellery and Jacques slid back, revealing a television
console. Rand turned on the television and settled onto the couch next to
Ellery just as the TV Ellery Queen intoned, “In a few minutes this newspaper
publisher will become an obituary notice." For the next hour Queen watched,
with growing embarrassment, as Jim Hutton proceeded to piece together faster
than Ellery could why a dying man, alone in an elevator, would push the sixth-
and fifth-floor buttons before he expired.

 

At the end of the episode, Jacques
Butcher rose from his chair, and stretched and yawned simultaneously. Rand
Canyon crossed the room, turned off the television, and pushed the button
sliding the bookshelves back across the television alcove. “Well, I didnÅ‚t
figure out who did it. How about you, Ellery?" Queen shook his head, his
embarrassment persisting. Jacques waved a languorous hand and excused himself
for the evening. It was not until Ellery and Rand were themselves headed back
toward their rooms that all Hell broke lose.

 

Walking down the deserted hallway,
Ellery and Rand were confronted by Jacques, who approached them with a troubled
look on his face.

 

“Nobody seems to know where Bonnie is,"
he muttered. He glanced at Rand. “She got your message but, according to Jerri,
she decided to go to Tyłs room anyway and hasnłt come back."

 

“Perhaps," Ellery offered delicately, “this
is a personal matter?"

 

“Maybe, but no one is answering TyÅ‚s
phone. IÅ‚m going to take a look."

 

Wordlessly, Ellery and Rand fell in step
as the threesome crossed the entryway, climbed the circular staircase to the
second floor, and proceeded to Ty Roylełs room at the end of the corridor. It
was the sight of the half-ajar door that precipitated the first shiver of
trepidation at the nape of Ellery Queenłs neck.

 

Jacques eased the door open as the three
men gasped in unison. Ty Royle was lying on the bed in a silk dressing gown. A
small bullet hole, surrounded by a good deal of blood, flared like a flower
from the center of his chest. Jacques rushed to Tyłs side and, in an effort
Ellery recognized immediately as doomed, began feeling for a pulse as Rand
Canyon grabbed for the phone next to the bed.

 

Queen took a deep breath, shook his
head, and resorted to instincts. He walked the circumference of the room,
checked the closet, peered beneath the bed, and then slowly began a trek back
down the hall, testing each of the locked doors along the way. At the
second-floor foyer he bent, examined the slick marble floor, and then began a
slow descent down the winding stairs. At the foot of the staircase he found
what he had missed beforea red pool behind and slightly to the left of the
first step. Slowly Ellery raised his eyes across the foyer toward a closet
door, also ajar. With trepidation he crossed the foyer and pushed the closet
open with the toe of his shoe.

 

Inside, lying on the floor in her own
pool of blood, was Bonnie Stuart. Ellery pinched the bridge of his nose and
squinted, as if to ward off the gathering storm of the headache building behind
his eyes. The figure on the floor gagged, drew in a ragged breath, and Ellery,
shocked back to his senses, bolted for the nearest telephone.

 

* * * *

 

Later, Ellery stood in the driveway with
Jacques and Rand as the ambulance sped away. He glanced back toward the front
door of the mansion as a tall, disheveled, overweight man lumbered toward them.
The sight was almost surrealistic, like watching a large bear walking upright
in a rumpled trenchcoat. As the man approached, Jacques and Rand looked up as
well.

 

“Detective Tramone." the man said
curtly. He nodded at Jacques and Rand and then offered an incongruously shy
smile and a gigantic paw. “YouÅ‚re Mr. Queen, right? IÅ‚m a big fan. Pleased to
meet you, although I wish the circumstances were better." The paw engulfed
Elleryłs right hand, the touch firm but, surprisingly, not the bone crunch for
which Ellery had braced. The detective extended a plastic bag in his other hand
and Ellery could see that it contained a small pistol. “Any of you gentlemen
recognize this?" Tramone asked.

 

Ellery, Jacques, and Rand shook their
heads in unison.

 

“Compact little gun and silencer,"
Tramone continued. “ItÅ‚s recently been fired. We had to pull it out of Miss
Stuartłs clenched fists when we loaded her onto the stretcher."

 

“So you think she was the one who fired
it?" asked Rand.

 

Tramone shook his head. “Miss Stuart
never fired this gun. She was wearing gloves, the kind ladies used to wear in
the nineteen forties. If she fired the gun there should be powder stains on the
gloves, and there arenłt. Also, at least when we found her, she was holding the
other end of the gun, and with both hands, like she was trying to use it as a
club or something. In any event," the detective continued, “she couldnÅ‚t tell
us anything. Shełs unconscious and in pretty poor shape." He sighed and glanced
at his watch. “Almost midnight. WeÅ‚re going to speak with some of the folks inside,
and then wełll post a couple of uniforms here for the night. Needless to say, I
donłt want anyone leaving this house. And Iłd like to talk to you gents again
first thing in the morning."

 

* * * *

 

Ellery awoke the next morning with a
headache and with the sense of unreality that often follows a night of
disaster. He shook his head, hoping that this would somehow clear a bad dream.
When it didnłt, he quickly dressed and headed for the kitchen.

 

Detective Tramone was already there,
armed with a cup of coffee. “Hope you donÅ‚t mind. I helped myself." The burly
detective smiled. Ellery forced his own smile and sat down at the table. “HowÅ‚s
Bonnie?" he asked. Tramone shook his head. “ItÅ‚s pretty grim. We figure she
either was pushed or fell from the second floor. She landed on her head."

 

Ellery shook his head glumly. “HowÅ‚s
your investigation going?"

 

“Lots of dead ends so far." Tramone
pulled a notepad from his pocket and scowled down at his own longhand. “The gunÅ‚s
going to be a dead end. Serial numbers have been filed off. We do know that Mr.
Royle was shot sometime shortly after nine ołclock. Bonnie and Jerri Swanson
left the party early. Ty stuck around a little longer, still drinking, but when
he left a little before nine he announced that he was tired and was not going
to work on the script any more that night. Rand volunteered to let Bonnie know.
He called Bonniełs room and relayed the message to Jerri Swanson right around
nine ołclock. But according to Swanson, Miss Stuart pooh-poohed the phone
message and headed off for Tyłs wing of the house anyway. That was the last
anyone saw of her."

 

“Swanson claims she watched the rest of
your show, which sounds rightshe can recount the whole plot." Tramone shuffled
through his notes and continued. “Charles Roethke and TyÅ‚s assistant, Taylor
Brandt, left shortly after the show started, to go drinkinga pattern the two
of them have fallen into over the last couple of days. You, Mr. Canyon, and Mr.
Butcher were watching the television show in the library. And ęMadame Sojourner,ł"
he continuedspitting the word “madame" as though it were an epithet, “says she
was in her room the whole evening and persists in claiming that she warned
Bonnie that something like this would happen and that she never should have
made the trip down here in the first place."

 

Ellery looked across the table at the
detective and then removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “That
reminds me. I think you should see this," he said. “I received it anonymously
yesterday." Detective Tramone unfolded the paper and read the poem, looking up
afterwards, perplexed. “WhatÅ‚s this all about?" he asked. “Alice in
Wonderland?"

 

Ellery extended his palms, shrugged, and
shook his head. “I honestly donÅ‚t know," he replied. “But as Alice might have
observed, when you study this poem it gets curiouser and curiouser. Yesterday I
figured it was just some silly prank, but I studied it closer last night."
Ellery and Tramone hunched over the paper as Ellery continued.

 

“The first stanza refers directly to Alice
in Wonderland, and the third stanza references an incident (although a
rather trivial one) that takes place at the beginning of Through the
Looking-Glass. The second stanza also seems to be taken from the Wonderland
book, with the exception of the first lineits reference to ęrehearsalsł that
are ęintriguingł seems to bear no relation to Carroll, but could well refer to
the enterprise wełve been engaged inthe filming of the teaparty episode. And
this equally could be said of the final two stanzaswhich each alludes to a
re-teaming, precisely what Ty and Bonnie were poised to undertake. And the
reference, in fact ęwarning,ł that there must be ętwo on the throneł seems,
again, to squarely refer to Ty Royle and Bonnie Stuart. And, as I pointed out
yesterday to Jacques Butcher, the poem employs a well-known Lewis Carroll word
gamethe first letter of each line forms an acrostic and, when read down, the
letters reveal a hidden message: ętrip required no chances.ł Here virtually
everyone warned Ty and Bonnie against taking this trip to Hollywood. That
advice, of course, now seems prescient."

 

“But what does it mean?" the
detective snorted.

 

“I have no idea," Ellery sulked. “I was
up half the night trying to puzzle it through. The poem doesnłt really explain
much of anything."

 

The two sat quietly for several minutes
before Ellery spoke again. “There is a riddle in Alice in Wonderland,"
he finally said, “posed by the Mad Hatter, the part TyÅ‚s character was going to
portray in the tea-party episode. The riddle is, ęWhy is a raven like a writing
desk?Å‚"

 

“I give up. WhatÅ‚s the answer?"
Detective Tramone muttered.

 

“ThatÅ‚s the point," said Ellery. “There
is no answer, at least none that Dodgson, writing as Carroll, ever offered.
Others have hypothesized answersmy own favorite is ęThey are alike because Poe
wrote on bothłbut the point is that no answer appears in the book, and the
riddle itself, although part of the book, is a dead end. Ultimately it has
absolutely nothing to do with the plot."

 

“In other words, a red herring?"

 

“Precisely. I thought you should know
about the poem, but IÅ‚m not certain that it has anything to do with your
investigation. Like the Mad Hatterłs riddle, it sort of hangs out there, on its
own."

 

“What did the acrostic in the Carroll
story ultimately reveal?" the detective finally asked.

 

“Well, the name of the real Alice,"
Ellery answered.

 

“So this poem is more obscure than the
original one. At least with Carrollłs poem, when you figured out the acrostic
the relevance was clearyou had a name, not just another riddle."

 

Ellery was quiet for an instant, but
then his eyes widened.

 

“What ...?" Detective Tramone exclaimed,
but Ellery shushed him with a hand. The burly detective watched as Elleryłs
eyes then narrowed. Ellery templed his fingers and bowed his head in thought.
His eyes closed and his lips moved faintly. After long minutes he shook his
head, as though awakening, and blinked across the table.

 

“Amazing," he said, and smiled back at
the completely uncomprehending detective. “Detective Tramone, my first instincts
were correct. You can forget entirely about this poem. The solution to what
happened to Ty and Bonnie lies elsewhere, and I think I know where. I have to
do a little work in the library, and then we will need to discuss this further.
And IÅ‚m afraid I may need to ask you for a little professional assistance."

 

* * * *

 

Later that afternoon Ellery entered the
parlor of the mansion behind the detective. Tramone parted from Ellery, who
wandered to stand next to Rand Canyon and behind Jacques Butcherłs chair. Jerri
Swanson and Charles Roethke shared opposite ends of the couch, separated by a
very cold distance, while Taylor Brandt lounged in a wing chair with a snifter
in his hand. Madame Sojourner sat at the desk, mumbling over a deck of cards.
Tramone approached the fireplace at the far end of the room and cleared his
throat loudly as seven pairs of eyes turned in his direction.

 

Fumbling self-consciously, Tramone, in
an unexpectedly soft voice, addressed the room. “I know," he said, “that all of
you have been concerned about what happened to Miss Stuart and Mr. Royle. I
just wanted to let you know that we do have some encouraging news. Miss Stuart
has made significant progress today. The doctors are now optimistic that she
should be able to make a complete recovery. She is still in a medically-induced
coma, but they believe they can begin bringing her out of that as early as
tomorrow morning." The detective shuffled self-consciously and continued, “Anyway,
thatłs why I called you all together here. We knew that you all were
concerned...." Tramone paused, searching for a way to close. Ultimately he
settled on a curt nod. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he shuffled out of
the room.

 

That night, shortly before midnight, a
tall figure dressed in medical scrubs walked purposefully down the hall of the
fourth floor of the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. The figure clasped a chart in
one hand and wore an operating mask. It stopped in front of Room 423, consulted
the chart, entered, and then approached the bed, strung with monitors and an
intravenous line. The figure set the chart down on the bedside table, drew a
vial from a pocket, and reached for the intravenous line just as a meaty paw
grasped its arm. The lights flicked on in the room and from behind Detective Tramone,
Ellery Queen said, “Rand, why donÅ‚t you take off the mask?"

 

Rand Canyon complied, shoulders slumped.

 

“Well, I always wanted to play a doctor,"
he replied quietly, in a defeated voice. Rand turned and looked back toward the
bed, realizing for the first time that he was standing not beside a patient but
a pile of pillows arranged under the sheet. He turned, uncomprehending.

 

“Where ... whereÅ‚s Bonnie?" he
stammered.

 

It was Ellery who answered. “Bonnie died
this afternoon, Rand. She died without ever regaining consciousness."

 

As Rand Canyon was led away, Tramone
turned to Ellery and shook his massive head in disgust. “No wonder he was just
a bit player," the detective muttered. “The poor schmo doesnÅ‚t even know that
doctors only wear masks in the O.R."

 

* * * *

 

Ellery was on his third cup of coffee a
scant seven hours later when Jacques Butcher shuffled into the kitchen and slid
into a chair. Butcher poured his own cup and slumped over it in silence for
long minutes, rubbing red eyes.

 

“You could have blown me over with a
light wind when I heard," he finally said, looking across the table at Ellery. “Why
in the world would Rand kill Ty and Bonnie?"

 

Ellery set his coffee cup down and shrugged.
“It was just as you said. Bonnie and Ty were going to remarry, and that was
going to upend a lot of lives, particularly Randłs, since, as you noted, he and
Ty have never gotten along. Hełd given up everything, his career, even his
home, when he signed on as Bonniełs companion and confidant. Where was this
going to leave him when the two of them took up where they had left off
twenty-five years ago?"

 

Butcher shook his head, trying to
understand. “But why would Rand kill Bonnie as well? That makes no sense."

 

“YouÅ‚re right. And since it makes no
sense, it was never intended to happen."

 

“What do you mean it wasnÅ‚t supposed to
happen?" Butcher responded in some exasperation. “SheÅ‚s dead, isnÅ‚t she?"

 

“Oh yes, sheÅ‚s dead," Ellery responded
sadly. “But Rand didnÅ‚t kill her, or certainly didnÅ‚t plan to. That was the
last thing he wanted, at least at the time. He wanted his life to return to
normal, and for that he needed Bonnie alive. No doubt it went something like
this. At around nine ołclock Bonnie left for Tyłs room to go over lines. She
probably walked in on Rand just about the time he shot Ty. There could have
been a tussle between Bonnie and Rand, but in any event, Bonnie somehow ended
up with the gun and ran down the hall. Those damned high heels she always wore
must have tripped her on the stairs and she tumbled over. Rand checked the
body, presumed she was dead, and moved Bonnie and the gun to the closet, where
I found her later."

 

Butcher still looked sceptical. “It
seems to me that you have two huge problems with your theory. First, all you
have is motive, and itłs a motive that almost everyone in the house shareda
marriage between Ty and Bonnie would upset a lot of lives. Therełs nothing in
what you have said that ties Rand to the murder. Plus, how do you get
opportunity? The murder took place during the Ellery Queen mystery episode that
we watched, and Rand was in the room with us the whole time. We heard Rand on
the telephone with Jerri Swanson and it was after that call, when Rand was with
us, that Ty was shot."

 

Ellery looked back across the table. “LetÅ‚s
deal with your observations in order. First, we do have a clue that ties Rand
to the crime. In fact, we have a dying message from Bonnie."

 

Jacques Butcher raised his eyebrow
inquiringly. “ThatÅ‚s news to me."

 

“Remember," Ellery continued, “that
Bonnie and the gun ended up in the closet. Sometime after Rand left, Bonnie
must have regained consciousness, because she left us the only clue she could
think of to identify the murderer."

 

Butcher shook his head and extended both
hands out, palms up. “IÅ‚m lost," he said.

 

“Bonnie didnÅ‚t grab the gun by the butt
or handle, as you would expect," Ellery continued. “Remember, Detective Tramone
said she was holding the gun like a club. So she grabbed the other end. In other
words, with both hands she grabbed the..."

 

Butcher slapped the side of his head
with an open palm. “Of course. She was holding the barrel of the gun. And Rand
Canyonłs given name was"

 

“Beryl," Ellery interjected. “Beryl
Snatt. When I realized what she was trying to tell us, I pretty well knew that
it was Rand who killed Ty. Of course, as you pointed out, that still leaves a
huge problemopportunity. Ty was killed during the Ellery Queen television
episode that we watched with Rand, and at first blush that seemed about as
airtight an alibi as I could imagine. But as I thought about it, it occurred to
me that something was wrong.

 

“Jerri Swanson did in fact receive a
call from Rand asking her to tell Bonnie that Ty didnłt want to go over the
lines that night. And Detective Tramone told me that Jerri was sure of the
timing of the call. She also was going to watch the Ellery Queen show, and
while she was on the phone the Elmer Bernstein theme music for the show was
just beginning. But after Rand hung up the telephone and turned on the
television in the library we heard the announcerłs opening statement setting up
the murder. The formula for the Ellery Queen television show is very precise:
the announcerłs opening setup of the murder always precedes the Elmer
Bernstein score. So what we saw took place before the theme music began,
in other words before the call to Jerri had even occurred."

 

“Well, that canÅ‚t be right," Butcher
replied. “Obviously someone is mistaken."

 

“Not necessarily," smiled Ellery. “This
is nineteen seventy-five. We live in a marvelous age. Walk down the hall with
me," he said, beckoning across the table.

 

Ellery led Jacques down the hall and
into the library. He crossed to the bar next to the telephone, slid a panel
aside, and revealed a flat box sporting intricate knobs and buttons. Butcher
looked at it in confusion. “What is it?" he asked.

 

“Jacques, you are living an entirely too
isolated life up at your winery," Ellery replied. “This is the newest
technological marvel. Itłs called a Betamax, and itłs made by Sony. It allows
you to record a television show and then watch it later. Itłs only good for
one-hour shows, although RCA is supposed to have a competing version out this
winter that will record two hours."

 

“So we were watching a show that was
already over?" Jacques asked. “How could Rand have worked that out?"

 

“Well," replied Ellery, “it wasnÅ‚t easy,
and it certainly wasnłt foolproof. But you actually provided him with his
biggest chance to succeed. You pride yourself on paying no attention to time,
and you played that silly gameright in front of Randof taking away my watch.
And my time sense is still out of sync from the cross-country flight. So when
Rand came in to remind us that the show was about to start neither of us
realized that it was, in fact, an hour later. We watched an episode that Rand
had programmed this device to record at nine ołclock, but we watched it later,
probably shortly after ten. So at the time Rand turned on the episode, the
murder had already been committed. That happened while you and I were going
over the ęMad Tea Partył script."

 

“But we saw Rand call Jerri Swanson...."
Butcher protested.

 

“We saw Rand speak into the telephone.
But in fact the actual telephone call he placed to Jerri Swanson was an hour
earlier. Rand originally made the call to make certain that Bonnie didnłt
show up in Tyłs room. But his plan could have gone wrong in a hundred different
ways. The way it did go wrong was that Bonnie ignored the call, went to
Tyłs room anyway, and stumbled upon the murder in progress. When everything
went south, and when Bonnie fell after catching Rand in the act, all Rand could
do was to revert to his original planstage a second faked call to Jerri, and
then establish what he hoped would be an alibi by watching the episode with us.
What we heard was Rand speaking into a dead phone. And as long as Bonnie couldnłt
tell us otherwise, the whole house of cards might have stood.

 

“But you are correct, in any event,"
Ellery continued. “The case against Rand was hardly airtight. When I went back
to the library and discovered the Betamax, there was no tape in it. It had
already been removed by Rand. Thatłs why I needed Detective Tramonełs help. I
told him what I had surmised and shortly afterwards the hospital called to
report that Bonnie had, in fact, died without ever regaining consciousness. I
convinced Tramone that our only hope was for him to participate in a little
ruse aimed at forcing Rand to show his hand. Obviously, if Bonnie was alive,
and if she was about to regain consciousness, she could identify the murderer
of Ty, and Rand couldnłt let that happen. The last thing Rand wanted originally
was to lose Bonnie, but that was beforebefore she caught him in the act of
killing Ty. All Tramone and I had to do was commandeer the room at
Cedars-Sinai, and wait."

 

Jacques Butcher shook his head in
amazement. “This is horrible. All of this has been like a madhouse." He sighed
and then with some disgust looked at the wrist watch he now sported on his left
wrist. “Yeah, I know," he said, glaring at Ellery sheepishly. “I had to start
wearing one now that I donłt have Rand anymore. So now Iłm the scheduler and we
have a ten ołclock call at Universal."

 

“TheyÅ‚re going ahead with rehearsals?
Even after what happened?" Ellery asked incredulously.

 

“This isnÅ‚t like the old days, Ellery.
Wełre not doing a movie that can just be postponed. This is TV. The episode has
to air."

 

“But how can they film without actors
playing the parts of the Lockridges?"

 

“Simple," replied Butcher. “Universal
re-cast the parts yesterday evening. Edward Andrews is playing Spencer
Lockridge and they got Rhonda Fleming to play Laura. Walkthrough is at noon."
Butcher paused and then eyed Ellery. “Oh, and Ellery, did you also miss the
other news from NBC?"

 

“What other news?"

 

“Well, the good news is that NBC has
ordered a full season for your show. But the bad news is that theyłre moving it
to Sunday night and youłre going to be opposite not only The Six Million
Dollar Man but also Sonny and Cher."

 

Now, it was Elleryłs turn to be puzzled.
“Sonny and Cher? I thought they were divorced."

 

“They are," Butcher moped. “But CBS
talked them into resuming their show anyway. The novelty of bringing back the
two of them is going to send the ratings through the roof, just watch. And it
will all be at the expense of your show."

 

At this, Ellery Queen burst into
laughter. “So, Jack, we live by the sword and we die by the sword. NBC wanted
to spike the ratings of the Ellery Queen show by reuniting a famous and
divorced twosome for the ęMad Tea Partył episode, and now CBS has beaten us to
the same punch!"

 

The two rose from their chairs and
headed toward the door, but in mid stride Jacques Butcher grabbed Elleryłs arm.
“Wait a minute," he said. “I completely forgot. The poemwhat was that all
about?"

 

Ellery smiled back at his old friend. “ItÅ‚s
funny," he observed, “but over the years there have always been red herrings.
They are a part of life. And rarely, not often but rarely, the red herrings themselves
end up being almost as interesting as the mystery."

 

Jacques Butcher looked exasperated. “So,
again, what did the poem mean?"

 

Ellery laughed. “Well, Jack, you should
be able to figure this out on your own, you have all of the clues."

 

Jacques ButcherÅ‚s countenance darkened. “Well,
of all the ... Youłre turning this into one of your damned ęchallenges to the
reader,ł arenłt you?"

 

* * * *

 

It was some days afterwards that Ellery
walked into the room, darkened by shades, pulled to blot out the morning sun,
and sat down at the table, piled high with work papers and correspondence,
surrounding an IBM Selectric typewriter. Ellery cleared a space and laid out
the paper containing the poem. Only then did he look into the eyes of the
shadowed figure sitting across the table.

 

“This was all very cleverly done," he
began. “Actually, I could kick myself for being so obtuse. About all that I can
say in my own defense is that the poem arrived just shortly before Tyłs murder,
and I first saw it only in the context of the murder. It alluded to the
writings of Lewis Carroll, which provided the foundation for the television
episode we were working on. And at the same time, the poem also referenced the
advantages of a reunion, of again having ętwo on the throne,ł which seemed an
obvious reference to reuniting Bonnie Stuart and Ty Roylewhose names denoted
royalty and who in any event were royalty in fact in Hollywood thirty years
ago. That message was, of course, underscored by the clever acrosticthe fact
that the first letter of each line spelled out this" and from his jacket
pocket Ellery removed a handful of white wooden Scrabble pieces. He took some
seconds and neatly arranged them to read “TRIP REQUIRED NO CHANCES."

 

“But what puzzled me was that while the
clues in the poem were all decipherable, and while they all gave the appearance
of relating to Bonnie, Ty, and the filming of the ęMad Tea Partył episode, they
didnłt otherwise seem to mean anything. They were like the Mad Hatterłs riddle
in Alice in Wonderlandthey were both a part of, but unrelated to, the
underlying story. It was the detective working the case who finally said
something that shocked me out of my complacency, who made me, in fact, realize
that there were other contexts in which the poem could be viewed."

 

Ellery gazed across the table, but the
shadowed figure remained silent.

 

“A good example is the title of this
maddening little poemłEager Eye and Willing Ear.ł That is, in fact, a line
from the untitled acrostic poem in Through the Looking-Glass that
revealed the name of the true Alice. I surmised, as it turns out far too
glibly, that the importance of that title was simply to help to point me to the
Carroll poem. But this poem is playing on a whole different level, isnłt it?"

 

At this Ellery detected the first
receptive twitch from the figure across the table: a barely discernible hint of
the beginning of a smile.

 

“I paid no further attention to the
title," Ellery continued, “and thatÅ‚s a cardinal sin in deductionI brushed the
substance of the title aside as irrelevant because ęeager eyes and
willing earsł had nothing to do with what I thought the poem might mean.
After all, filming the ęMad Tea Partył episode and attempting to lure Ty and
Bonnie out of retirement to play the Lockridge roles doesnłt suggest anything
about eager eyes and willing ears."

 

Ellery pulled back the sheet of paper on
which he had lined up the Scrabble tiles. He began to fiddle with the
individual tiles as he spoke. “So, as I said, it was something that Detective
Tramone, who was working the case, said that shook me awake." Ellery paused,
staring across the table. “He said that at least with the original Carroll poem
when you figured out that it was an acrostic you knew the name of the person
Carroll was referring to, the original Alice. And that made me realize that I
needed to rethink everything.

 

“Could there be another matter to which
the poem referred? Someone who was actually anxious to offer eager eyes and
willing ears? Could it, in fact, point not to the possible reunion of Ty and
Bonnie, but to a different desired reunion? And the acrostic, which clearly
announced that the ętrip required no chances,ł and which was so obviously
incorrect when applied to Ty and Bonniewho, in fact, lost their lives because
they separately decided to embark on the trip to Hollywoodcould it in fact
have been intended to refer to a completely different trip?"

 

Ellery stifled a yawn. The damned
transcontinental flight had gotten to him again, and it was even worse when you
flew east. “In any event, when Detective Tramone reminded me that the original
Carroll poem revealed a name, I saw what a pure fool I had been, because this
poem does also. The poem not only gives us an acrostic, it alsoand here it
both betters and, again, mimics Carrollgives us something else, as well."

 

Ellery smiled and pushed the now
rearranged Scrabble tiles across the table towards the shadowed figure, who was
toying with his moustache.

 

“The acrostic is also an anagram."

 

The ancient man across the table smiled
down at the tiles, now rearranged to spell “INSPECTOR RICHARD QUEEN."

 

Elleryłs own smile broadened as he
reached across and grasped the gnarled and folded old hands. “You were right. I
should have taken you with me to the Coast, Dad."