Cop Out by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page A

know. A week’s payroll for Aztec.”
    â€œCount it,” Ellen said. “I want to find out how much my child’s life is worth.”
    â€œEllen.”
    â€œIt’s like an insurance policy, isn’t it?” Ellen said. “And I’ve been after you for years to take one out for Bibby.” She laughed. “For her college education.”
    â€œEllen, for God’s sake.”
    â€œI know, we can’t afford it. Can we afford it now? Oh, never mind. Go drink your coffee.”
    â€œI only thought—”
    â€œAll right . I’ll have some, too.”
    He hurried into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. When he came back she was counting the money.
    â€œOver twenty-four thousand dollars.”
    â€œIt’s a lot of money,” Malone said inanely.
    Ellen grinned. “She’s a lot of little girl.”
    He crammed the money back into the bag with trembling hands.
    Neither took more than a few sips.
    She kept rocking.
    At three A . M . she suddenly said, “Is this all you’re going to do, Loney? Sit here?”
    â€œWhat else can I do? There’s nothing I can do tonight.”
    â€œWhat kind of a man are you? I thought I knew you.” Her eyes summed him up like an obituary.
    â€œThat little one, Furia,” Malone explained to the floor. “He’s gun-happy. I want them to get to wherever they’re holing up without any trouble. It’s the best protection Bibby can have. They’ll have no excuse … Look, why don’t we talk in the morning? You’re dead for sleep.”
    â€œLook who’s talking.”
    â€œI’ll go to bed in a while. Let me give you a pill.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat good are you going to do Bibby sitting up all night? You’ll need your strength.”
    â€œAnd you won’t?”
    â€œI’ll go, too, I tell you. Come on, how about it?”
    At a quarter of four she allowed him to give her one of the sleeping pills left over from Dr. Levitt’s prescription, when she had had the last miscarriage. She undressed stiffly. She moved like Barbara’s walking doll. He tucked her into bed and stooped to kiss her.
    She turned her face away.
    He dragged back down to the parlor.
    He carried the coffee things into the kitchen, washed and dried them, put them away.
    Then he went back upstairs.
    The robe and slippers were on the gilt chair. Little pajamas on the floor, the ones with the daisies she was ape over. He picked them up and folded them and hung them with care over the foot of her canopy bed. She loved her bed, with its lace-trimmed tester. It was a cheap one, everything they owned was cheap except a few of Ellen’s mother’s things, but Bibby was crazy about it. Her homework was on the worktable, in her hentrack handwriting. She always gets U-for-Unsatisfactory in Neatness. He picked up her plaid schoolbag and looked in. It was full of drawing papers, crayons of fun trees, happy cows, sunny houses, huge suns. E-for-Excellent in Art. Her drawings laughed, her teacher said.
    Those killer skunks.
    The sheet and blanket were flung back from when Ellen had awakened her. The pillow still showed the dent of her head.
    He felt the bed, trying to feel his child.
    But it was cold.
    He eased the door to Barbara’s room shut and looked in on his wife. Ellen was asleep. One arm was drawn across her face to shut the world out. She was making mewing sounds. Poor Ellen. Who else has she got to blame? She’s got to get back at somebody.
    He went downstairs again. He opened the black bag and counted out the money on the coffee table. $24,358.25. It was like counting out Bibby. Is this all my kid is worth? Figure a life expectancy of seventy years. That makes her worth less than $350 a year.
    Not enough. I’ll kill them.
    He fell asleep on the sofa, the black bag hugged to his belly.
    He was driving the Pontiac along the river road through pearly fog at a