Free Where Is Bianca? by Ellery Queen

Mr. Lessard. Do you know a Noreen Gardner?”
    Lessard, who had gone over to the lowboy to replenish his glass, hesitated in mid-stride. It was a very short hesitation, but it told the answer to Corrigan’s question. Corrigan knew it, and Lessard knew it. Lessard said, “What’s she got to do with this?”
    â€œYou do know her.”
    â€œWell, yes.” He said viciously, “A nympho with sharp teeth. She appeared in Fran Weatherly’s last play, the one that closed recently.”
    â€œWe understand she’s on tap for Weatherly’s new play, the one you favor putting into a Fielding theater.”
    â€œSeveral people favor putting the play into a decent house.”
    â€œDid your wife?”
    â€œI didn’t bother Bianca with a lot of trivia,” Lessard said pettishly.
    â€œWell, I’m afraid you and your playwright playmate may have to look for a new leading lady.”
    â€œNow, see here, Corrigan! I don’t have to listen to your insinuations about me and Fran!”
    â€œBecause,” Corrigan said, “the girl in the morgue may be Noreen Gardner.”
    â€œWhat!” Lessard was literally staggered. He went over to a chair and sat down and put his drink aside and took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands.
    â€œHow well did you know Noreen Gardner?”
    â€œI’ve had nothing to do with her, not in the way you mean. Any man could take her for the price of a promise. But not me, friend—not that one. She’s a greedy, grubbing, petty thief who’d steal the label off your necktie if that was the best she could do at the moment. She’s bad news—or was, if she’s dead.”
    â€œSounds like a mighty sick girl,” Chuck Baer said.
    â€œAre you serious about her petty thievery?” Corrigan asked Lessard.
    â€œI think she’s a kleptomaniac. She’ll lift anything she can lay her hands on. She even eats as if she’s afraid the food will get away from her. She acts as if she grew up having to scrounge in garbage cans.”
    â€œWould she have stolen a ring?”
    Lessard stared at him. “Bianca’s ring.…”
    â€œThis morning,” Corrigan said, “a girl named Peggy Simpson showed up at Missing Persons and says she thinks the body in the morgue is Noreen Gardner’s. She couldn’t explain the Mayan ring. Can you?”
    â€œI don’t see.…”
    â€œMaybe Noreen was here about the time Bianca disappeared, and had a chance to steal the ring,” suggested Baer.
    â€œNo, absolutely not. Noreen’s been here only twice. Once with Travers Proehl, the producer of Fran’s plays, and another time with Travers and Fran when they came here to talk business. The second time was several days before Bianca disappeared. Anyway, as I told you, Bianca wore that ring all the time. I’m sure she was wearing it the night she walked out. Noreen had no chance to sneak the ring.” Lessard squirmed in the chair. “The ring made me so sure.…”
    â€œLet’s go back to the beginning,” Corrigan said. “To the night you last saw Bianca.”
    â€œOn the eighth of this month.” Lessard turned to glare at the private detective. “I’ve been all over it with you, Baer.”
    â€œSometimes you remember a detail afterward,” Baer said. “Something pops into your head.”
    â€œWell, nothing’s popped into my head. And I ask you again—who the hell are you working for, Baer—me or the police department?”
    â€œYou hired me for an assignment. The assignment is to locate your wife. How I do it is my business. Yours,” said Baer, sucking on his dead cigar, “is to pay my fee.”
    Lessard’s glare faded. He got up and began to walk around. “Of course, of course. It just occurs to me. You may have to go to Europe to find her. Maybe she found New York too much for her, too foreign.