Free French Powder Mystery by Ellery Queen

it, and just stay there all night.”
    Ellery pondered. “Does the door remain open while the truck is being unloaded?”
    “Sure,” said Bloom. “It’s only for a half an hour, and besides, nobody could hardly get in without one of us seeing ’em.”
    “You’re sure of that?” asked Ellery sharply. “Positive? Swear to it, man?”
    Bloom hesitated. “Well, I don’t hardly see how anybody could,” he said lamely. “Marino’s out there unloading, and Johnny and me in the booth right by the door. …”
    “How many electric lights are there in this freight room?” demanded Ellery.
    Bloom looked bewildered. “Why, there’s one big light right over where the truck is, and then there’s a small one in my booth. Johnny keeps his headlights on, too.”
    “How big is this freight room?”
    “Oh, about seventy-five foot deep by fifty wide. Store emergency trucks are parked there for the night, too.”
    “How far from your booth does the truck unload?”
    “Oh, way in, near the back, where there’s a chute from the kitchen.”
    “And one light in all that black expanse,” murmured Ellery. “The booth is enclosed, I suppose?”
    “Just a glass window facing the inside of the room.”
    Ellery played with his pince-nez. “Bloom, if I told you to swear that nobody could get into that freight room, past the entrance, without your seeing him, would you do it?”
    Bloom smiled in a sickly fashion. “Well sir,” he said, “I don’t know as I would.”
    “Did you see anybody get in last night while the door was open and you and Salvatore were in the booth checking over the goods?”
    “No, sir!”
    “But somebody might have got in?”
    “I—I guess so. …”
    “One question more,” said Ellery genially. “These deliveries are made every night, without fail, and at exactly the same hour?”
    “Yes, sir. Been that way as long as I can remember.”
    “Another, if you’ll pardon me. Did you lock that freight door last night promptly at eleven-thirty?”
    “To the dot.”
    “Were you at that door all night?”
    “Yes, sir. On my chair, right by the door.”
    “No disturbance? Didn’t hear or see anything suspicious?”
    “No, sir.”
    “If—any one—tried—to—get—out—of—the—building—by—that—door,” said Ellery with startling emphasis, “you would have heard and seen him?”
    “Sure thing, sir,” said Bloom weakly, glancing with despair at MacKenzie.
    “Very well, then,” drawled Ellery, waving his arm negligently toward Bloom, “the inquisition may proceed, Inspector.” And he stepped back, making furious notes in his book.
    The Inspector, who had been listening with a gradually clarifying expression on his face, sighed and said to O’Flaherty, “You were saying that Mrs. French came into the building at eleven-forty-five, O’Flaherty. Let’s have the rest of it.”
    The head nightwatchman wiped his brow with a slightly shaking hand and a dubious glance in Ellery’s direction. Then he took up the thread of his story. “Well, I sits at th’ night-desk all night—never gets up, while Ralska and Powers here does the rounds every hour. That’s me job, sor—an’ besides I check out all those who put in overtime, like th’ executive people, and such. Yes, sor. I—”
    “Easy, O’Flaherty,” said the Inspector, with interest. “Tell us just exactly what happened when Mrs. French arrived. You’re sure it was eleven-forty-five?”
    “Yes, sor. I looked at th’ time-clock next th’ desk, ’cause I gotta put down all arrivals on me time-sheet. …”
    “Oh, the time-sheet?” muttered Queen. “Mr. MacKenzie, will you please see that I get last night’s time-sheet at once? Even before the report on the employees.” MacKenzie nodded and left. “All right, O’Flaherty. Go on.”
    “Well, sor, through the night-door acrost th’ hall I sees a taxi roll up and Mrs. French she steps out. She pays th’ driver and knocks. I sees who ’tis and opens quick. She