The Devil's Cook by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online

Farley. You ask if I want your opinion, which I don’t, and then go right ahead and give it to me anyhow. I’ll run up and get my coat.”
    She hurried upstairs. In her bedroom she donned a lined trench coat, which seemed appropriate to detection. Since she did not like to return to a dark apartment at night, she turned on the bed lamp before switching off the ceiling light. Then she went into the kitchen and turned on a small light above the range. While there she briefly considered the advisability of having a quick nip against the cold, but rejected it. Back in the living room she switched off the ceiling light, pausing only long enough to note with relief how light splashed into the darkness from the bedroom on one side and the kitchen on the other. Downstairs she found Farley, in his topcoat, sulkily waiting in the hall.
    They went out the alley door to Farley’s old Ford on the apron. It was cold outside, near freezing, but the sky was clear, with lofty stars and a slice of moon. Farley was sullen at having to go, and they drove in stiff silence to the Handclasp campus, which was not far away, and across to the library, the only building on the campus left with a blaze of lights.
    Parking was no problem at this hour. They parked at the curb and went up a long walk to the building, passing reference rooms to right and left, and upstairs to the charging desk. The girl at the desk was trying to sustain the illusion of efficiency, but her eyes were heavy behind her thick glasses. She answered Fan’s questions dully. She had not been on duty at three o’clock, so she could not tell if Mrs. Miles had been in the library or not. She did not know Mrs. Miles, moreover, and could not have told in any event, unless Mrs. Miles had presented her stack permit.
    â€œSay!” said Fanny, “I didn’t think of that. How could Terry have met someone in the stacks if she didn’t have a permit? Farley, do you happen to know if she has one?”
    â€œI’m sure she has,” Farley said, “as the wife of a faculty member. It’s a courtesy.”
    â€œThat’s so,” said the heavy-eyed girl.
    â€œWell,” Fanny said, “Farley is only a student, and I am only a sister, which is not so grand as being a wife, but I’d like to be admitted to the stacks, anyway.”
    â€œDo you have a permit?” the girl said to Farley.
    â€œCertainly.”
    â€œGo ahead,” she said.
    â€œI guess I’ll have to,” Farley said. “Although I can’t see any sense to it.”
    They passed through into the stacks, which were erected on low-ceilinged levels from basement up. Level C was below them, and so they descended narrow steel steps and turned down an aisle between shelves of books. At the far end, beyond a cross-aisle, ranged a row of carrels, each furnished with a desk and chair. All the carrels were dark, except one in which a late bookworm toiled over a tome.
    â€œI am thinking,” said Fanny, “that one of these alcoves would make a dandy place to meet somebody.”
    â€œThat depends,” Farley said, “on the purpose of the meeting. For private conversation, yes. For private frolic, no.”
    â€œWhat other purpose can you think of, where Terry is concerned?”
    â€œNone at the moment. Incidentally, whoever she met had to be someone with a permit.”
    â€œLogical. It also narrows the suspects down to about ten thousand people.”
    â€œFewer than that, I think. I’m sure we can eliminate the freshmen.”
    â€œWith Terry how can you be sure of anything? But I’ll concede on other grounds. Freshmen are not admitted to the stacks.”
    â€œIn any event, it is clearly impossible now to tell if Terry was here at three o’clock or not. We had better leave.”
    â€œWe had much better,” said Farley, “never have come at all.”
    They left the library. At the curb beside the Ford, Fanny