The King is Dead Read Free Page A

morning?’
    â€˜This minute.’
    Inspector Queen stared as if Abel Bendigo were out of his mind.
    Ellery smiled. ‘My father is a salaried employee of the City of New York, Mr. Bendigo. And while I’m a relatively free soul, the necessity of earning a living has managed to foul me up in responsibilities and commitments. You can’t walk in here and expect us to get up and walk out with you — with even you, Mr. Bendigo — on five minutes’ notice.’
    â€˜Your father has been taken care of —’
    â€˜Hold it.’ The Inspector deliberately went back to the drop-leaf table and sat down. ‘And how would you go about “taking care of” me, Mr. Bendigo?’
    But Bendigo said patiently, ‘As for you, Mr. Queen, you’re between novels and you are four issues ahead with the editorial work on Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . And the only investigation on your calendar at the present time has been taken out of your hands.’
    â€˜Has it?’ said Ellery. ‘That’s news to me.’
    â€˜If you’ll glance through your morning mail, you’ll find a note from a man named Harold P. Consideo terminating your connexion with his affairs.’
    Ellery looked at him. He went to the table after a moment and picked up the letters on his breakfast plate. He shuffled through them and came to one that made him stop and look at Abel Bendigo again. Then he tore off the end of the envelope.
    A letter fell out. Ellery glanced through it. The Inspector reached over and took the letter and he read it, too.
    â€˜Mr. Bendigo,’ said Ellery, ‘what makes you think you can interfere in my life this way?’ The man in the chair drummed on the leather. ‘How well do you know Consideo?’
    â€˜I don’t know him at all. These things are easily arranged. Let’s not waste time on Consideo. Are you ready?’
    â€˜Me?’ said Ellery. ‘I think not.’
    â€˜How long will it take you?’
    â€˜Too long, Mr. Bendigo, for your busy schedule.’
    Bendigo opened his pink mouth. But then he shut it and regarded Ellery earnestly. ‘Why do you take this attitude?’
    â€˜A shoehorn has nothing to say about who buys it or the use it’s put to. A man wants to feel that he has. Mr. Bendigo,’ said Ellery, ‘I like to be asked.’
    â€˜And I’m his old man,’ said his father.
    â€˜I apologize. We Bendigos live in something of a vacuum. Of course, you’re perfectly right.’ He leaned forward, pudgy hands clasped like a deacon. ‘Making sure who wrote these letters is of great importance, and not only to me. The assassination of my brother would be followed by the most serious consequences all over the world.’ He was choosing his words with care. Now he looked up at them with a smile. ‘Would you gentlemen accept the assignment?’
    Ellery smiled back. ‘Where are your headquarters?’
    â€˜On Bendigo Island.’
    â€˜Bendigo Island … I don’t believe I know it. Do you, Dad?’
    â€˜I’ve heard tell,’ said the Inspector dryly, ‘but I can’t tell you where it is.’
    â€˜It’s not well known,’ said their visitor. ‘And you won’t find it on any chart.’
    â€˜Where is it?’
    Abel Bendigo looked regretful. ‘I really mustn’t say, Mr. Queen. It’s one of our strictest rules. You’ll be taken there and returned to this apartment when the job is done.’
    â€˜How far away is it?’
    â€˜I wish I were free to tell you.’
    â€˜How long does it take to get there from New York?’
    â€˜Planes travel fast these days. Not too long.’
    Ellery shrugged. ‘I’m afraid, Mr. Bendigo, I’ll have to think it over.’
    â€˜And I’m afraid,’ said Inspector Queen, getting out of his chair, ‘I’ll have to be moseying on down to Centre Street.