partner, began yelling, 'My God, I'm going bald!' Next thing I knew, there was a harp glissando and Mr. Wheel's head came rolling out onto the lawn. I heard Mr. Mosley threaten him. He said if Mr. Wheel touched his grapefruit again, he would not co-sign a bank loan for him. I think he killed him."
"Does the terrace door open from the inside or from the outside?" Inspector Ford asked Ives.
"From the outside. Why?"
"Exactly as I suspected. I now realize it was you, not Mosley, who killed Clifford Wheel."
How Did Inspector Ford Know?
Because of the layout of the house, Ives could not have sneaked up behind his employer. He would have had to sneak up in front of him, at which time Mr. Wheel would have stopped singing "Sorrento" and used the mallet on Ives, a ritual they had gone through many times.
A Curious Riddle
Apparently, Walker was a suicide. Overdose of sleeping pills. Still, something seemed amiss to Inspector Ford. Perhaps it was the position of the body. Inside the TV set, looking out. On the floor was a cryptic suicide note. "Dear Edna, My woolen suit itches me, and so I have decided to take my own life. See that our son finishes all his push-ups. I leave you my entire fortune, with the exception of my porkpie hat, which I hereby donate to the planetarium.
Please don't feel sorry for me, as I enjoy being dead and much prefer it to paying rent. Goodbye, Henry. P.S. This may not be the time to bring it up, but I have every reason to believe that your brother is dating a Cornish hen."
Edna Walker bit her lower lip nervously. "What do you make of it, Inspector?"
Inspector Ford looked at the bottle of sleeping pills on the night table. "How long had your husband been an insomniac?"
"For years. It was psychological. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, the city would paint a white line down him."
"I see. Did he have any enemies?"
"Not really. Except for some gypsies who ran a tearoom on the outskirts of town. He insulted them once by putting on a pair of earmuffs and hopping up and down in place on their sabbath."
Inspector Ford noticed a half-finished glass of milk on the desk. It was still warm. "Mrs. Walker, is your son away at college?"
"I'm afraid not. He was expelled last week for immoral conduct. It came as quite a surprise. They caught him trying to immerse a dwarf in tartar sauce. That's one thing they won't tolerate at an Ivy League school."
"And one thing I won't tolerate is murder. Your son is under arrest."
Why Did Inspector Ford Suspect Walker's Son Had Killed Him?
Mr. Walker's body was found with cash in his pockets. A man who was going to commit suicide would be sure to take a credit card and sign for everything.
The Stolen Gem
The glass case was shattered and the Bellini Sapphire was missing. The only clues left behind at the museum were a blond hair and a dozen fingerprints, all pinkies. The guard explained that he had been standing there when a black-clad figure crept up behind him and struck him over the head with some notes for a speech. Just before losing consciousness, he thought he had heard a man's voice say, "Jerry, call your mother," but he could not be sure. Apparently, the thief had entered through the skylight and walked down the wall with suction shoes, like a human fly. The museum guards always kept an enormous fly swatter for just such occasions, but this time they had been fooled.
"Why would anyone want the Bellini Sapphire?" the museum curator asked. "Don't they know it's cursed?"
"What's this about a curse?" Inspector Ford was quick to ask.
"The sapphire was originally owned by a sultan who died under mysterious circumstances when a hand reached out of a bowl of soup he was eating and strangled him. The next owner was an English lord who was found one day by his wife growing upside down in a window box. Nothing was heard of the stone for a while; then it turned up years later in the possession of a Texas millionaire, who was brushing his teeth when he suddenly
1796-1874 Agnes Strickland, 1794-1875 Elizabeth Strickland, Rosalie Kaufman