Free Suspicious Circumstances by Patrick Quentin

Inspector’s voice swooped like a bird of prey and it was all I could do to strangle a hoarse cry.
    Then, with the most apologetic of smiles, Uncle Hans said, ‘Ach, wait a minute. Excuse me, Inspector. How foolish I am. I have the wrong Thursday. That was the week before. Let me see. Ah, yes, Thursday. Morning: Worked on chapter twenty. Afternoon: chess and snooze. Evening: Servants night off. Anny made delicious fondue. Rather heavy on stomach. Played bezique with Anny. Bed eleven-thirty. Read Spinoza.’
    He passed the book to the Inspector. I was quivering then, but it was partly with hope. The Inspector read. Then he returned the book to Uncle Hans.
    ‘Well, I guess that about settles that, doesn’t it?’
    Simultaneously Gino and I ran over to them and, to my joy, I saw that the Inspector’s Daddy Long Legs smile was going full blast again. He turned it on us too. ‘To tell you frankly, gentlemen, we weren’t worrying too much about this. But I had to check up, of course. You always do with anonymous letters.’
    ‘Anonymous letters?’ I exclaimed.
    ‘Came in this morning. Get ‘em all the time, of course. Particularly with celebrities. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred it’s just some crackpot. But you can never be sure, can you?’
    Inspector Robinson stood for a moment watching us all with those terrible corny crinkles. Then he brought out of his pocket a particularly elegant shell-pink envelope from which he produced a shell-pink piece of paper. I hurled my hand out and he gave it to me.
    The message on the extremely expensive paper was typewritten in capitals. It said:
     
    ANNY ROOD WAS AT NORMA DELANAYS THAT NIGHT. ANNY ROOD MURDERED NORMA DELANAY BECAUSE ANNY ROOD WANTS TO PLAY NINON DE LENCLOS
     
    As both Gino and Uncle Hans read over my elbow, I stared at the message with returning jitters. So somebody knew! Some terrifying, unknown enemy with expensive pink note-paper! Mother’s note-paper was usually pink. Then … then … Delight Schmidt? Was it conceivable that such perfidy…? I forced myself to stop thinking because heaven knew what was happening to my face. I gave the letter back to the Inspector, who glanced through it again before putting it back in his pocket.
    ‘You know?’ he said. ‘That Ninon de Lenclos bit would have convinced me the whole thing was nuts anyway. Imagine the Great Anny Rood having to bump someone off to get a part in a movie! She must have twenty offers a week!’
    He grinned then. He was Hilarity itself. He held out his hand to Uncle Hans.
    ‘Glad I talked to you, Mr Harben.’ The chummy hand was stretched out to Gino. ‘You too, Mr Morelli.’ He patted me on the back. ‘Goodbye, son. Maybe I’ll see you around at the funeral.’
    With a little contented sigh, Uncle Hans settled back to his chess-board. Gino, all flashing teeth, started escorting the Inspector to the door. They were half way there when Tray started somersaulting again. I could have killed him. Inspector Robinson stopped and watched him indulgently.
    ‘Well, what d’you know? A pooch doing handsprings. That isn’t something you see every day.’
    ‘No, sir,’ said Gino. ‘Tray’s a real smart mutt. You know? Norma Delanay — she was just crazy about him and his tricks. Couldn’t get enough of them. All the time we would take Tray over just for Miss Delanay to see him go through his routine.’
    ‘Well,’ said the Inspector. ‘What d’you know?’
    They went to the door then. Gino eased the Inspector out and closed the door, looking back at me with an exaggerated Italian grimace of relief. I, of course, was feeling relief, too, but what I was feeling most was a wild admiration and love for Uncle Hans, which swept away all discretion. Grabbing Gino, I dragged him back to Uncle Hans, whom I embraced, almost knocking over his chess-board.
    ‘Ach, Nickie. Careful. What are you doing? What..?’
    ‘Uncle,’ I said, ‘you were sensational.’
    I glanced from him to Gino.