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

stopped and stared for a moment at a cast-iron VIP posed on a marble pedestal across the street.
    â€œYou’re thinking again,” Farley groaned. “What now?”
    â€œI’m thinking that a library is not, after all, an ideal place for a tryst. Especially if something more than conversation is contemplated.”
    â€œIf there was a tryst, remember? If Terry was ever here at all.”
    â€œThat’s understood. It isn’t necessary to qualify every statement, Farley.”
    â€œIt isn’t necessary to prolong this foolishness, either. Let’s go home.”
    â€œWell, I can’t think of any place else to go, except the Student Union. We could ask there if anyone saw Terry with anyone.”
    â€œThe Student Union! I’ve got news for you, sister. The Student Union is not an ideal place for a tryst, either, if something more than conversation is contemplated. All you can contemplate there is billiards or watching television or something like that.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t do any harm to ask.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t do any good, either. Chances are a hundred to one against finding anyone who even knows Terry, let alone who saw her there this afternoon and remembers it. I’m going home, Fan, and that’s that.”
    â€œI dare say you’re right.” Fanny, for a wonder, was submissive. “We may as well. Perhaps Terry will return before morning, if she hasn’t already.”
    Arriving shortly thereafter at The Cornish Arms, they drove up the alley and onto the apron, below the rear window of Farley’s apartment. Moments later, at the door Fanny cursed softly.
    â€œDamn!” she said. “Orville has locked the back door for the night. Well have to walk around.”
    They walked around to the front entrance and up the steps from the vestibule into the hall.
    â€œCome have a nightcap,” Farley said.
    â€œBeer? No, thanks.”
    â€œI’m out of beer. I told you that this afternoon. I’vegot a little gin.”
    â€œIn that case, I accept.”
    They had the nightcap, which Farley fixed in the kitchen while Fanny waited in the living room, and then Fanny went upstairs and struggled out of her tight pants and climbed into the loose ones of her pajamas. It was going on midnight, and in spite of the worrisome, puzzling developments of the night she was very sleepy.
    She slept through the night like a log, as the saying goes. Although as Fan often pointed out, it has never been established that a log sleeps.

6
    Fan slept so soundly that she woke the next morning with a hangover. On her stomach, her face buried in her pillow, she raised her head heavily and squinted at her alarm clock. If she were seeing right, and if the clock were not telling a lie, she had exactly fifteen minutes to bathe and dress and get to work—clearly an impossibility, even if she skipped breakfast.
    Her own alarm system began ringing dire warnings of an irate employer and immediate dismissal. Fan bounced out of bed and sprang wildly for the bathroom. She was standing there with her pajama pants in a limp little heap around her feet before she remembered that this was Saturday morning, no work today, and to hell with alarm clocks and employers.
    Weak with relief, she hoisted her pants and retied the string and strolled back to her bed and sat down on the edge of it. She had been shocked so widely awake that it was now hopeless to try to go back to sleep.
    She began to think in terms of a leisurely shower and breakfast. The soft and silken feeling of having two whole days with nothing to do was nicely developing when all at once the events of the previous evening returned to her clearing head.
    Had Terry come home in the night?
    And where the devil was Ben?
    Fan put coffee on in the kitchen and returned to the bathroom for her shower. Dressed and brushed, she boiled an egg, toasted a slice of bread, and ate the egg and toast with two cups of black