Free The Tragedy of Z by Ellery Queen Page A

diamonds, keen and brilliant. Her voice, when she spoke, was very deep and soft, with a remote hoarseness that was not unpleasant. And, despite the grotesquerie, she was a woman of intelligence—if of a crude, natural sort.
    I had no doubt that this was Fanny Kaiser.
    Kenyon awoke from his lethargy. He bellowed: “Hel- lo , Fanny!” in such a tone of man-to-man camaraderie that I stared. Who was this woman?
    â€œHello to you, Kenyon,” she rumbled. “Damn your eyes, what’s the idea of the pinch? What’s goin’ on here?”
    Here telescopic glance took us all in—Hume, to whom she nodded indifferently; Jeremy, whom she passed without expression; father, who made her thoughtful; and myself, over whom she lingered with something like amazement. Then the inspection ceased; and, staring into the district attorney’s eyes, she demanded: “Well, are you all dumb? What is this, a wake? Where’s Joe Fawcett? Talk, somebody!”
    â€œGlad you dropped in, Fanny,” said Hume quickly. “We wanted to talk to you. Saved us a trip. Er—come in, come in!”
    She obeyed with large slow steps, heavy-footed, massive as Il Penseroso; and she dipped her large fingers into her large breast pocket as she came in, bringing out a large fat cigar which she thrust thoughtfully between her large lips. Kenyon lumbered forward with a match. She puffed a billow of smoke and regarded the desk in a squint, the cigar crushed between her immense white teeth.
    â€œWell?” she growled, and leaned against the desk. “What’s happened to His Nibs the Senator?”
    â€œDon’t you know?” asked Hume quietly.
    The tip of the cigar rose in a slow arc. “Me?” The cigar fell. “How the hell should I know?”
    Hume turned to the detective who had brought the woman in. “What happened, Pike?”
    The man grinned. “She comes marchin’ in bold as brass—smack up to the house, an’ when she gets to the front door an’ sees the boys standin’ there, and the lights—why, she looks kind of surprised. So she says: ‘What the hell’s goin’ on here?’ An’ I says: ‘You better come on in, Fanny. The D.A.’s lookin’ for you.’”
    â€œDid she try to make a break, get away?”
    â€œBe yourself, Hume,” said Fanny Kaiser abruptly. “What the hell for? And I’m still waitin’ for an explanation.”
    â€œAll right,” murmured Hume to the detective, and the man went out. “Now, Fanny, suppose you fell me why you’ve come here tonight.”
    â€œWhat’s that to you?”
    â€œYou came here to see the Senator, didn’t you?”
    She flicked a gob of ash off the tip of the cigar. “Wouldn’t expect me to come here to meet the President, would you? Why, is it against the law to go visitin’?”
    â€œNo,” smiled Hume. “Although I have suspicions, Fanny. So you don’t know what’s happened to your pal the Senator?”
    Her eyes flashed angrily, and she snatched the cigar from her mouth. “Hey, what is this? Sure not! I wouldn’t ask if I did, would I? What’s the gag?”
    â€œThe gag, Fanny,” said Hume in a friendly tone, “is that the Senator departed this earth tonight.”
    â€œListen, Hume,” grated Kenyon, “what’s the big idea? Fanny, she don’t——”
    â€œSo he’s dead,” said Fanny Kaiser slowly. “Dead, hey? Well, well. Here today, gone tomorrow.—Kicked off just like that, hey?”
    She made not the slightest effort to appear surprised. But I noticed a tightening of the muscles in her great jaws, and a wary narrowing of her eyes.
    â€œNo, Fanny. He didn’t kick off just like that.”
    She puffed evenly. “Oh! Suicide?”
    â€œNo, Fanny. Murder.”
    She said, “Oh!” again, and I knew that despite her