ELLERY QUEEN

PAYOFF

“Cosa Nostra?" Ellery asked, sitting up.

“No," sighed Inspector Queen, “these operators are about as close to the Cosa Nostra type as the stratosphere to a groundhog. And as hard to reach. ItÅ‚s a real high - class nastiness."

“Tell me more, Dad."

“Well, we were up against a stone wall till evidence turned up that this plush - lined mob has a Board of Directors composed of four men. When I tell you who they are youÅ‚ll send for the loony wagon."

The Inspector raised his corded hands and began to tick the quartet off. “One: Ever hear of DeWittHughes?"

“Certainly IÅ‚ve heard of DeWitt Hughes. Wall Street and banking in the megamillions. YouÅ‚re not seriously suggesting ...?"

“I am."

“But DeWitt Hughes? Directing a crime syndicate?"

“As one of four," said his father, shaking his head. “Of whom the second is John T. Ewing."

Ellery gawped. “The oil and mining tycoon?"

“You heard me. And Number Three: Filippo Falcone."

“The construction and trucking king? Dad, is this a rib?"

“I wish I could joke about it," the Inspector said. “And last - you ready, son? Reilly Burke."

“YouÅ‚ve got to be kidding," Ellery exclaimed. “Burke, the Great Mouthpiece of our time! Why would a lawyer of BurkeÅ‚s standing and big businessmen like Falcone, Ewing, and Hughes dirty themselves in the rackets?"

The old man shrugged. “Maybe itÅ‚s so easy for such operators to make big money legit these days that the only kick left is to turn crooked."

“IÅ‚d like to help straighten them out," Ellery said grimly. “I take it I fit into your plans some way?"

“Before we move a step I want to know which of those four cuties is top banana, Ellery. Not only would that enable us to move in faster and so cut down on the chances of a tipoff, but my information is that the head man has possession of the main syndicate records. So IÅ‚m hoping you can pinpoint him for us."

“Do you have a lead?"

“In a way." Inspector Queen flipped his intercom. “Velie, send in Mrs. Prince."

The ravaged woman Sergeant Velie admitted to the Inspectorłs office must once have been pretty in a petite, even chic way. But only wreckage was left. She was so nervous that Ellery had to help her into the chair; her arm thrummed like a piano wire.

“Mrs. PrinceÅ‚s husband is an accountant whoÅ‚s serving five to ten for an embezzlement," Inspector Queen said.

“He didnÅ‚t do it." She had a broken - down voice, too. “He confessed to a crime he didnÅ‚t commit because it was part of a deal."

“Tell my son what Mr. Prince told you when he was sent up."

“John said that when he got out weÅ‚d be set for life," the woman told Ellery. “Meanwhile, every month for over three years now IÅ‚ve received through the mail an unmarked envelope containing $750 in small bills. ThatÅ‚s what the children and I have been living on."

“You donÅ‚t know where the money is coming from?"

“No, and John wonÅ‚t discuss it when I visit him. But he knows, all right! ItÅ‚s part of the deal he made, IÅ‚m positive, to make sure he keeps his mouth shut."

“HeÅ‚s being released from Sing Sing on parole tomorrow, Ellery."

“My husband told me not to meet him in Ossining - to wait for him at home," the woman whispered. “Mr. Queen, IÅ‚m scared."

“Why?"

“Because of the deal he made, whatever it was. Of the blood money, wherever it comes from, that heÅ‚s going to be paid off with. I donÅ‚t want it!" Mrs. Prince cried. “All I want is for us to get away from here, change our name, start all over again somewhere. But John wonÅ‚t listen to me ..."

“Or to anyone else," said Inspector Queen. “ItÅ‚s a long shot, Ellery, but maybe heÅ‚ll listen to you. Mrs. Prince says heÅ‚s always been a fan of yours."

“If youÅ‚d only make John see that we canÅ‚t build a life on that kind of money, Mr. Queen!"

“Nobody, including you, is going to talk Prince out of that," the Inspector remarked to his son, when the woman had left, “in spite of what I just said. Not when heÅ‚s earned the money by sacrificing his good name and over three years of his life."

“Then whatÅ‚s the point, Dad? And what does it have to do with the crime syndicate youÅ‚re investigating?"

“WeÅ‚ve found out," his father answered, “that before Prince was sent up he handled a lot of highly confidential work for Hughes, Ewing, Burke, and Falcone; in fact the embezzlement rap stemmed from a job he did for one of HughesÅ‚s banks. HeÅ‚s denied it, but I have good reason to believe Prince was close to the big boys and knows who the head man is. Maybe you can think of a way to trick the information out of him."

“And heÅ‚s coming home tomorrow?" Ellery looked thoughtful. “All right, Dad. LetÅ‚s form a reception committee."

At 2:15 pm the following day the reception committee turned out to have a noisy and unexpected partner.

The Inspectorłs men were routinely staked out in various vestibules and tradesmenłs entrances in the vicinity of the modest East Side corner apartment building where the Princes lived. A taxi turned into the street and pulled up before the building. John Prince got out. The cab drove off, and the emaciated, rather stooped figure of the accountant turned toward the building.

At that instant a nondescript black sedan with muddied license plates careened around the corner and began to chatter and spit fire as it bolted past Prince and up the street and around the corner. Prince fell to the sidewalk, staining it red as he hit.

Squad cars roared futilely off after the vanished murder car as the Queens and Sergeant Velie ran over to the quiet man. They were almost, not quite, too late.

Sergeant Velie took one look and advised, “Better step on it."

“Prince. Prince, listen," Ellery said, stooping over him. “Help us get them. Talk. Can you talk?"

“Four . . of them," gasped the dying man, looking into ElleryÅ‚s eyes. “Each one uses .. a code name .. of a city."

“Four cities?"

“Boston ... Philadelphia ... Berkeley. ..." The voice guttered like a burned - out candle. Prince made one incredible effort. “And Houston," he said, quite clearly.

“Which one is top man?"

But the accountantłs stare glassed over and remained that way.

“Bye - bye, blackbird," announced Sergeant Velie.

“So my hunch was right," muttered Inspector Queen. “He did know. One second - one second more! - and heÅ‚d have told us. No, Velie, let her," he said in a gentler tone. “Mrs. Prince, IÅ‚m sorry..."

The old man sounded sorry for a number of things.

The widow stood over her husbandÅ‚s body. “Now you know, John," she said to it. “Now you know how they meant to set you up." And she brushed by the InspectorÅ‚s proffered arm and went blindly back into the apartment building.

“Well?" the Inspector snapped to his son after a while. “DonÅ‚t stand there with your mouth hanging open! This code business ought to be your candy; each of the four using the name of a city for identification! What did he say they were again?"

“Boston, Philadelphia, Berkeley, Houston." Ellery was still returning the dead manÅ‚s stare. Then he turned aside and said, “For the love of heaven, Velie, close his eyes, will you?"

“Well, it doesnÅ‚t matter. We knew who they are," and the Inspector turned away, too. “The only thing we didnÅ‚t know - the name of the head man - he didnÅ‚t get to tell us.

“Oh," said Ellery, “but he did."

CHALLENGE TO THE READER Which of the four is head man in the syndicate? And how did Ellery know?

Ellery explained: “If you examine them, thereÅ‚s a connection between the names of the crime directorate and the city code names they chose to cover their identities.

“Take one: Reilly Burke and the city of Berkeley. Burke - Berk. Identical in sound.

“Or take Filippo Falcone and Philadelphia. Fil - Phil."

“Oh, come on, Ellery," said Inspector Queen. “Coincidence."

“Then how about DeWitte Hughes and Houston Hughes - Hous. Two might be a coincidence. Three? No, sir."

“But that leaves John T. Ewing and the code name of Boston. Find me a connection between those two!"

“Ah, thatÅ‚s the missing ingredient," Ellery said, watching the meat wagoneers trundling their poor freight away. “In each city name the corresponding clue was in the first syllable: Berk, Phil, Hous. Try it on Boston."

“Boston. Bos." The Inspector looked doubtful. Then he cried. “Boss!"

“Ewing is obviously the head man youÅ‚re trying to identify," Ellery nodded. “The Boss."