Ellery Queen's Magicians of Mystery Read online

  Ellery Queen’s Anthology #32, MAGICIANS OF MYSTERY, is the 32nd in the series of semi-annual anthologies of stories derived from Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. It sparkles with misdirection, illusion, hocus-pocus, and sleight of hand—the warp and woof of magic as well as the blood and bones of mystery.

  Beginning and ending with 2 stories featuring magician characters, Stanley Ellin’s “The Moment of Decision” and Clayton Rawson’s “Miracles—All in the Day’s Work,” this magic-filled volume includes 2 short novels, 2 novelettes, and 15 short stories by such wizards in the genre as Erle Stanley Gardner, J. J. Marric (John Creasey), Cornell Woolrich, Julian Symons, Q. Patrick (Patrick Quentin), Phyllis Bentley, Edward D. Hoch, Patricia Highsmith, Lawrence Treat, Michael Gilbert, Joe Gores, Gerald Kersh, Nicolas Freeling, Nedra Tyre, and Ellery Queen.

  None of the stories in this book has ever appeared in any of the 76 anthologies previously edited by Ellery Queen.

  (Photo: Photoreporters Inc.)

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  Ellery Queen is a man of two parts—Frederic Dannay and the late Manfred B. Lee. The total sales of their books in various editions published throughout the world are estimated at nearly 150,000,000 copies. Ellery Queen popularized the dramatic mystery on radio, and in 1975 and 1976 a new television series starred Jim Hutton as Ellery Queen, and David Wayne as Inspector Queen. Ellery Queen has won five annual Edgars (the Mystery Writers of America award similar to the Oscars of Hollywood), including the Grand Master award in 1960, and both the silver and gold Gertrudes awarded by Pocket Books, Inc. In 1968, Iona College honored Ellery Queen with the Columba Prize in Mystery.

  Ellery Queen’s most recent novels are A Fine and Private Place, The Last Woman in His Life, and Cop Out. He is internationally famous as an editor—Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine is now in its 36th year of continuous publication.

  Anthony Boucher described Ellery Queen best when he said: “Ellery Queen is the American detective story.”

  The Dial Press

  1 Dag Hammarskjold Plaza

  New York, New York 10017

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  ISBN 0-8037-4362-9

  Ellery

  Queen’s

  Magicians

  Of

  Mystery

  VOLUME 32

  Edited by “Ellery Queen”

  DAVIS PUBLICATIONS, INC., 229 PARK AVE, SOUTH,

  NEW YORK, N.Y. 10003

  FIRST PRINTING

  Copyright © 1976 by Davis Publications, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-13341

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  COPYRIGHT NOTICES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Grateful acknowledgment is hereby made for permission to reprint the following:

  The Moment of Decision by Stanley Ellin; copyright 1955 by Stanley Ellin; reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.

  Gideon and the Pigeon by J. J. Marric (John Creasey); © 1970 by J. J. Marric (John Creasey); reprinted by permission of Harold Ober Associates, Inc.

  Van der Valk and the Two Pigeons by Nicolas Freeling; © 1970 by Nicolas Freeling; reprinted by permission of John Cushman Associates, Inc.

  The Clue of the Runaway Blonde by Erle Stanley Gardner; copyright 1945, 1947, by Erle Stanley Gardner, renewed; reprinted by permission of Thayer Hobson and Company.

  The Bantam Phantom by Lael J. Littke; © 1971 by Lael J. Littke; reprinted by permission of Larry Sternig Literary Agency.

  R As in Rookie by Lawrence Treat; © 1971 by Lawrence Treat; reprinted by permission of Scott Meredith Literary Agency, Inc.

  A Nice Place To Stay by Nedra Tyre; © 1970 by Nedra Tyre; reprinted by permission of Scott Meredith Literary Agency, Inc.

  Miss Phipps Exercises Her Métier by Phyllis Bentley; © 1970 by Phyllis Bentley; reprinted by permission of Harold Matson Company, Inc.

  File #6: Beyond the Shadow by Joe Gores; © 1971 by Joe Gores; reprinted by permission of the author.

  The Theft of the Dinosaur’s Tail by Edward D. Hoch; © 1971 by Edward D. Hoch; reprinted by permission of the author.

  The Scar by Gerald Kersh; © 1970 by Davis Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of Mrs. Gerald Kersh.

  The “Laughing Man” Murders by Q. Patrick (Patrick Quentin); copyright © 1953 by Patrick Quentin; reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.

  Library Fuzz by James Holding; © 1972 by James Holding; reprinted by permission of Scott Meredith Literary Agency, Inc.

  Mouse in a Trap by Michael Gilbert; © 1970 by Michael Gilbert; reprinted by permission of John Cushman Associates, Inc.

  The Nature of the Thing by Patricia Highsmith; © 1970 by Patricia Highsmith; reprinted by permission of McIntosh & Otis, Inc.

  Only One Grain More by Cornell Woolrich; copyright 1940 by Popular Publications, Inc., renewed; reprinted by permission of Scott Meredith Literary Agency, Inc.

  The Sensitive Ears of Mr. Small by Julian Symons; © 1972 by Julian Symons; reprinted by permission of John Cushman Associates, Inc.

  Payoff by Ellery Queen; © 1964, 1968 by Ellery Queen; reprinted by permission of the author.

  Miracles—All in the Day’s Work by Clayton Rawson; © 1958 by Davis Publications, Inc. (formerly Mercury Publications, Inc.); reprinted by permission of Catherine S. Rawson.

  CONTENTS

  2 SHORT NOVELS

  Erle Stanley Gardner The Clue of the Runaway Blonde

  Q. Patrick (Patrick Quentin) The “Laughing Man” Murders

  2 NOVELETTES

  Stanley Ellin The Moment of Decision

  Cornell Woolrich Only One Grain More

  15 SHORT STORIES

  J. J. Marric (John Creasey) Gideon and the Pigeon

  Nicolas Freeling Van der Valk and the Two Pigeons

  Lael J. Littke The Bantam Phantom

  Lawrence Treat R As in Rookie

  Nedra Tyre A Nice Place To Stay

  Phyllis Bentley Miss Phipps Exercises Her Métier

  Joe Gores File #6: Beyond the Shadow

  Edward D. Hoch The Theft of the Dinosaur’s Tail

  Gerald Kersh The Scar

  James Holding Library Fuzz

  Michael Gilbert Mouse in a Trap

  Patricia Highsmith The Nature of the Thing

  Julian Symons The Sensitive Ears of Mr. Small

  Ellery Queen Payoff

  Clayton Rawson Miracles—All in the Day’s Work

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Description

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Contents

  Editor’s Note

  STANLEY ELLIN

  The Moment of Decision

  J. J. MARRIC (JOHN CREASEY)

  Gideon and the Pigeon

  NICOLAS FREELING

  Van der Valk and the Two Pigeons

  ERLE STANLEY GARDNER

  The Clue of the Runaway Blonde

  LAEL J. LITTKE

  The Bantam Phantom

  LAWRENCE TREAT

  R As in Rookie

  NEDRA TYRE

  A Nice Place To Stay

  PHYLLIS BENTLEY

  Miss Phipps Exercises Her Métier

  JOE GORES

  File #6: Beyond the Shadow

  EDWARD D. HOCH

  The Theft of the Dinosaur’s Tail

  GERALD KERSH

  The Scar

  Q. PATRICK (PATRICK QUENTIN)

  The “Laughing Man” Murders

  JAMES HOLDING

  Library Fuzz

  MICHAEL GILBERT

  Mouse in a Trap

  PATRICIA HIGHSMITH

  The Nature of the Thing

  CORN
ELL WOOLRICH

  Only One Grain More

  JULIAN SYMONS

  The Sensitive Ears of Mr. Small

  ELLERY QUEEN

  Payoff

  CLAYTON RAWSON

  Miracles—All in the Day’s Work

  EDITOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader:

  There is an affinity between magic and mystery—they go hand in glove and are as thick as thieves. When you think of magic—the magic of prestidigitation, of legerdemain—what comes to your mind? Misdirection, illusion, sleight of hand, bag of tricks, hocus-pocus—they are the warp and woof of magic, and equally, the blood and bones of mystery technique.

  Consider: the mystery writer says one thing, means another—misdirection, but always performed with fair play. The mystery writer scatters red herrings on and off the scene of the crime—misdirection and illusion. The mystery writer’s words are quicker than the eye—misdirection, illusion, and sleight of hand. Then there are the cryptic remarks, the false trails, the cleverly planted clues, the shifting fingers of suspicion—the whole bag of tricks, the hocus-pocus and mumbo-jumbo of magic-and-mystery.

  We open and close this volume, the 32nd in the series of semiannual anthologies deriving from Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, with two mysteries that feature magicians as characters—Raymond in Stanley Ellin’s The Moment of Decision and The Great Merlini in Clayton Rawson’s Miracles—All in the Day’s Work (the perfect title to end a collection of mystery and detective stories); and in between you will find such world-famous criminological conjurors as Erle Stanley Gardner, Q. Patrick (Patrick Quentin), J. J. Marric (John Creasey), Nicolas Freeling, Michael Gilbert, Cornell Woolrich, and Julian Symons; and such mistresses of witchery and masters of wizardry as Patricia Highsmith, Phyllis Bentley, Nedra Tyre, Lawrence Treat, Joe Gores, Gerald Kersh, and Edward D. Hoch.

  Now, take your seat, keep the bright lights on, and watch the curtain go up on 19 spellbinding performances—2 short novels, 2 novelettes, and 15 short stories—the enchanting entertainment of the mystery story, baffling, exciting, purely magical. . .

  ELLERY QUEEN

  Stanley Ellin

  The Moment of Decision

  This story won First Prize in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine’s International Contest of 1954, and was first published in 1955. Like all Stanley Ellin’s mystery stories, “The Moment of Decision” is characterized by texture and solidity in style, by substance and creative imagination in plot. For reasons we will comment on after you have read the story, this First Prize Winner has an especially powerful, yet subtle, impact, and a provocativeness in those larger meanings which deal with questions that, 21 years after the original publication, still have no easy answers. . .

  Hugh Lozier was the exception to the rule that people who are completely sure of themselves cannot be likeable. We have all met the sure ones, of course—those controlled but penetrating voices which cut through all others in a discussion, those hard forefingers jabbing home opinions on your chest, those living Final Words on all issues—and I imagine we all share the same amalgam of dislike and envy for them. Dislike, because no one likes to be shouted down or prodded in the chest, and envy, because everyone wishes he himself were so rich in self-assurance that he could do the shouting down and the prodding.

  For myself, since my work took me regularly to certain places in this atomic world where the only state was confusion and the only steady employment that of splitting political hairs, I found absolute judgments harder and harder to come by. Hugh once observed of this that it was a good thing my superiors in the Department were not cut of the same cloth, because God knows what would happen to the country then. I didn’t relish that, but—and there was my curse again—I had to grant him his right to say it.

  Despite this, and despite the fact that Hugh was my brother-in-law—a curious relationship when you come to think of it—I liked him immensely, just as everyone else did who knew him. He was a big, good-looking man, with clear blue eyes in a ruddy face, and with a quick, outgoing nature eager to appreciate whatever you had to offer. He was overwhelmingly generous, and his generosity was of that rare and excellent kind which makes you feel as if you are doing the donor a favor by accepting it.

  I wouldn’t say he had any great sense of humor, but plain good-humor can sometimes be an adequate substitute for that, and in Hugh’s case it was. His stormy side was largely reserved for those times when he thought you might have needed his help in something, and failed to call on him for it. Which meant that ten minutes after Hugh had met you and liked you, you were expected to ask him for anything he might be able to offer. A month or so after he married my sister Elizabeth she mentioned to him my avid interest in a fine Copley he had hanging in his gallery at Hilltop, and I can still vividly recall my horror when it suddenly arrived, heavily crated and with his gift card attached, at my barren room-and-a-half. It took considerable effort, but I finally managed to return it to him by foregoing the argument that the picture was undoubtedly worth more than the entire building in which I lived and by complaining that it simply didn’t show to advantage on my wall. I think he suspected I was lying, but being Hugh he would never dream of charging me with that in so many words.

  Of course, Hilltop and the two hundred years of Lozier tradition that went into it did much to shape Hugh this way. The first Loziers had carved the estate from the heights overlooking the river, had worked hard and flourished exceedingly; in successive generations had invested their income so wisely that money and position eventually erected a towering wall between Hilltop and the world outside. Truth to tell, Hugh was very much a man of the Eighteenth Century who somehow found himself in the Twentieth, and simply made the best of it.

  Hilltop itself was almost a replica of the celebrated, but long untenanted, Dane house nearby, and was striking enough to open anybody’s eyes at a glance. The house was weathered stone, graceful despite its bulk, and the vast lawns reaching to the river’s edge were tended with such fanatic devotion over the years that they had become carpets of purest green which magically changed lustre under any breeze. Gardens ranged from the other side of the house down to the groves which half hid the stables and outbuildings, and past the far side of the groves ran the narrow road which led to town. The road was a courtesy road, each estate holder along it maintaining his share, and I think it safe to say that for all the crushed rock he laid in it Hugh made less use of it by far than any of his neighbors.

  Hugh’s life was bound up in Hilltop; he could be made to leave it only by dire necessity; and if you did meet him away from it you were made acutely aware that he was counting off the minutes until he could return. And if you weren’t wary you would more than likely find yourself going along with him when he did return, and totally unable to tear yourself away from the place while the precious weeks rolled by. I know. I believe I spent more time at Hilltop than at my own apartment after my sister brought Hugh into the family.

  At one time I wondered how Elizabeth took to this marriage, considering that before she met Hugh she had been as restless and flighty as she was pretty. When I put the question to her directly, she said, “It’s wonderful, darling. Just as wonderful as I knew it would be when I first met him.”

  It turned out that their first meeting had taken place at an art exhibition, a showing of some ultra-modern stuff, and she had been intently studying one of the more bewildering concoctions on display when she became aware of this tall, good-looking man staring at her. And, as she put it, she had been about to set him properly in his place when he said abruptly, “Are you admiring that?”

  This was so unlike what she had expected that she was taken completely aback. “I don’t know,” she said weakly. “Am I supposed to?”

  “No,” said the stranger, “it’s damned nonsense. Come along now, and I’ll show you something which isn’t a waste of time.”

  “And,” Elizabeth said to me, “I came along like a pup at his heels, while he marched up and down and told me what was goo
d and what was bad, and in a good loud voice, too, so that we collected quite a crowd along the way. Can you picture it, darling?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I can.” By now I had shared similar occasions with Hugh, and learned at first hand that nothing could dent his cast-iron assurance.

  “Well,” Elizabeth went on, “I must admit that at first I was a little put off, but then I began to see that he knew exactly what he was talking about, and that he was terribly sincere. Not a bit self-conscious about anything, but just eager for me to understand things the way he did. It’s the same way with everything. Everybody else in the world is always fumbling and bumbling over deciding anything—what to order for dinner, or how to manage his job, or whom to vote for—but Hugh always knows. It’s not knowing that makes for all those nerves and complexes and things you hear about, isn’t that so? Well, I’ll take Hugh, thank you, and leave everyone else to the psychiatrists.”

  So there it was. An Eden with flawless lawns and no awful nerves and complexes, and not even the glimmer of a serpent in the offing. That is, not a glimmer until the day Raymond made his entrance on the scene.

  We were out on the terrace that day, Hugh and Elizabeth and I, slowly being melted into a sort of liquid torpor by the August sunshine, and all of us too far gone to make even a pretense at talk. I lay there with a linen cap over my face, listening to the summer noises around me and being perfectly happy.

  There was the low, steady hiss of the breeze through the aspens nearby, the plash and drip of oars on the river below, and now and then the melancholy tink-tunk of a sheep bell from one of the flock on the lawn. The flock was a fancy of Hugh’s. He swore that nothing was better for a lawn than a few sheep grazing on it, and every summer five or six fat and sleepy ewes were turned out on the grass to serve this purpose and to add a pleasantly pastoral note to the view.