Face to Face Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    â€œCome over here. You, too, Burke.”
    They joined the old man behind Glory’s desk. One of the objects on the bloodstained blotter was a police photostat of what had clearly been a sheet of ordinary lined pad-paper (“Yellow?” Ellery muttered, as if the color mattered; and his father nodded with a straight face) and roughly on one of the lines, toward the bottom of the otherwise unmarked sheet, a single word had been written.
    The writing was tortured and difficult, a scrawl executed under extreme stress. The word was:
    face.

7
    â€œFace,” Ellery said, as if he were tasting it.
    â€œFace?” Burke said.
    â€œFace,” retorted Inspector Queen. “And that’s it, gentlemen. Short, sweet, and ridiculous. It’s another reason we’re looking for those diaries and the manuscript of the autobiography. They might throw some light on whose face.”
    â€œOr it could be somebody’s name,” ventured the Scotsman. “Although I’ve never run across a name like Face.”
    â€œYou ought to spend more time at our ball parks,” Ellery said. “However, Harry, you’re wrong on a different count. That ƒ is definitely lowercase. No, it’s got to be ‘face,’ as in ‘face the music’—”
    â€œWhich is just what I’m going to be doing,” said the Inspector, “unless we crack this thing. I’ve already heard rumblings from upstairs. Can’t you make anything out of it, either, son?”
    â€œNo.” Ellery’s own face was squeezed up in a lemonlike scowl.
    â€œAnother thing.” The Inspector matched the scowl; both scowling, there was a remarkable resemblance. “We still have no answer to how the killer got into the apartment. There are only two keys, it seems, Glory’s and her husband’s. And this Armando has a real alibi, according to the West girl; also, he produced his key. Glory’s apparently hasn’t been touched. What’s more, the apartment door seems to have been locked—there’s all kinds of evidence that Glory was scared to death of burglars. So another question is, how did her killer get in?”
    â€œPerhaps she knew who it was,” suggested Burke, “and let him in—or her—herself.” Then he shook his head. “No, that doesn’t follow. If she’d known her assailant, she’d have written his name before she died.”
    Ellery was worrying it, shaking his head at Burke’s last statement. He kept scowling.
    â€œThat West girl,” sighed the Inspector. “I’d better talk to her personally.” He called down to Sergeant Velie to fetch Roberta West. Harry Burke joined the old man at the door; the two began to whisper.
    Ellery glanced at them. “Is that conference top secret,” he asked in an annoyed voice, “or can you declassify it?” They paid no attention to him.
    The sorrel-haired girl came up the stairs visibly bracing herself. Inspector Queen broke off his palaver with Burke to glare at her. His glare made Burke glare at him. The Scot touched the girl’s elbow reassuringly. She gave him a pale smile.
    â€œI’m Inspector Queen, in charge of this case, Miss West,” the old man said crustily. “I’ve read the reports of the detectives who questioned you, and I want to know if you have anything to add to your statement. Do you?”
    She glanced at Ellery, and he nodded. So she gulped and told the Inspector what she had told Ellery and Harry Burke about Carlos Armando’s incredible proposal to her over seven months before.
    â€œHe wanted you to kill his wife for him,” said the Inspector, perversely pleased. “That’s very helpful, Miss West. Would you be willing to testify to it?”
    â€œIn court?”
    â€œThat’s where people usually testify.”
    â€œI don’t know …”
    â€œNow, look, if you’re