Which Way to Die? by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online

it had been inevitable.
    Gerard Alstrom had started toward the girl with outstretched hands. She did not respond, and he halted, flushing.
    â€œHello, Gerry,” she said, very cool. “You’re still running lucky, I see.”
    â€œYou call four years in prison luck, Sis?” Gerard said. It was almost a snarl.
    â€œYes,” she said, and turned to nod at Frank Grant.
    Corrigan rather enjoyed the scene. He knew Gerry Alstrom’s arrogance of old; to see it struck down by someone who refused to be impressed by it was a consummation he had often devoutly wished. The brief exchange told a long story. She was Gerard’s sister, older by a few years, and she took a dim view of the way he had climaxed his young lifetime of riding roughshod over people. She must feel great shame for her blood-relationship with a sadistic killer.
    â€œOh, Norma,” Corrigan said. “I want you to meet Chuck Baer; your father and Mrs. Grant hired him to bodyguard these two. Chuck, this is Alstrom’s sister, Mrs. Christopher.”
    â€œThis job is picking up,” Baer said. “Mrs. Christopher, I hope you’re going to be occupying these premises, too.”
    She smiled at him. There he goes again, Corrigan thought. He never stopped being baffled by his friend’s attractiveness to women.
    â€œI’ll be here, Mr. Baer,” Norma said. “But it’s not Mrs. Christopher.” She glanced at Corrigan. “I’ve taken my maiden name back, Tim.”
    â€œI didn’t know you’d been divorced.”
    â€œI wasn’t. It was an annulment.”
    â€œHow did you manage that?”
    â€œIt’s easy. All you have to do is commit perjury.”
    â€œPerjury?” Baer said. He sounded sad.
    â€œOh, come, Mr. Baer. The wife gets on the stand and testifies that before marriage her husband agreed to have children, but now refuses to. He takes the stand and admits the charge. The judge knows that they’re both lying, but he grants the annulment. In this case it was Charles who was tired of me, but he was nice enough to play the villain and let me get the annulment.”
    Her brittle, derisive manner disturbed Corrigan. It was new. Four years ago, when he had met her in connection with the Audrey Martello murder, he had found it necessary to clamp a lid on himself. He had been instantly attracted to her face, her figure, her little-girl sprightliness, a kind of naïveté that most girls lost in early adolescence. Not only was she a sister of one of the killers, but she was also married, and she seemed radiantly in love with her husband. How Charles Christopher could have tired of her was beyond him.
    â€œI’m sorry it didn’t work out, Norma.”
    â€œWhy?” she said lightly. “I find freedom wonderful.”
    â€œIf you two are through celebrating Old Home Week,” her brother said sullenly, “I’d appreciate seeing where we flop. I hope the beds are soft. Don’t you, Frank?”
    â€œSoft, shmoft,” Frank Grant said. “Who wants to sleep? Speaking of freedom, Gerry, do you realize we are? Free?”
    â€œHow free is free?” Corrigan said. “Seems to me you’ve just exchanged one prison for another.”
    â€œ Olé,” Norma Alstrom said softly. “Well, come along. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
    To Corrigan’s embarrassment she beckoned him and, when he went to her, took his hand. Frank snickered; Corrigan could have belted him. He withdrew his hand as soon as he decently could. Norma glanced at him, arched her brows, and smiled.
    There was a dream-kitchen off the hall, and a large bathroom, and a book-stacked study with Union League-type chairs and lamps, and then a rear hall which served three bedrooms.
    The first bedroom Norma showed them was large, with twin beds and masculine wallpaper. French doors looked out on the lawn. Corrigan noticed that the flower beds hemming