Free The Murderer is a Fox by Ellery Queen Page B

world of
Wrightsville moved on, on and away from Davy Fox and the shadow under
which he had grown to manhood. Linda smiled from the car, nodding at
people she had known since she was four. They had forgotten. Or
seemed to have,

    "Five minutes, Emily,"
announced Talbot Fox nervously.

    "I wish that darned old
train would pull in," fretted his wife. "So we could get
all this over with and take Davy off by ourselves and—I don't
know. I've had a premonition."

    "About Davy? Why,
Emily," laughed Talbot. But he seemed uneasy.

    "Premonition, Mother?"
Linda frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

    "Oh, I don't know,
Linny."

    "But he's all right,
isn't he? I mean—they said except for the exhaustion and
exposure and . . . Mother, you know something about Davy you've kept
from me!"

    "No, dear, no. Really,"
said Emily Fox hurriedly.

    "Emily, you talk too
blamed much," growled her husband. "Premonitions! Didn't we
all talk to Davy on the phone when they set him down in Florida?"

    Linda was appeased. But she
couldn't help wondering why Daddy Talbot's voice sounded so funny.

    "Imagine," sighed
Emily. "All this for Davy."

    "And for his little
wife! Eh, sweetheart?" Talbot Fox patted Linda's hand.

    "Linda, your nose,"
said Emily, smiling down at snub-nosed Mrs. Donald Mackenzie
(Wrightsville Personal Finance Corp.). "It's shiny."

    His wife , thought
Linda as she fumbled for her compact. That day, on his last furlough
before . . . They had gone to Pine Grove on a picnic, the nephew of
Talbot and Emily Fox and their adopted daughter. And somehow, after
the mayonnaise spilled on his tunic, and she was wiping it off his
wings, it happened. She had always known it would happen, although
not quite so absurdly. Their tie had always been stronger than mere
blood—it was the tie of waifs, woven out of secrets, a
mysterious dear bond. She was in his arms, and Davy was kissing her
with a passion that frightened her, it told so much. He was asking
her, without a word-as if he were afraid to use words. Words came
only later, as they lay side by side in the grass of the Grove
clasping hands and dreaming up into the pines. And even then they
were sober words.

    "What about Uncle Tal
and Aunt Emily?" Davy had asked. "They won't go for this,
Linny."

    "Won't—Why, Davy,
they love you, darling!"

    "Oh, sure. But you're
their only child, and—you know what I am."

    "You're my Davy."
Then Linda realized what he had meant and sat up crossly. "See
here, Davy Fox. In the first place, I'm a Fox by adoption. You're one
by blood—"

    "Blood,â€

Untouchable?" Ellery
raised his brows. "I'm afraid I don't. Warden, quite."

    The Warden shrugged. "I've
handled lots of prisoners in my time, Mr. Queen. This man is in a
class by himself. At first he wanted help—from anyone-other
inmates, guards, me. Very vocal. Sure he was railroaded, and that
sort of thing. Like all the rest. . . But then something happened to
him. He tightened up. Built a shell around himself. And that's where
he's lived ever since. Never lets go. Everything is inside. Deep, Fox
is—deep.

    "He'll be a few moments
yet, Mr. Queen. Meanwhile, there's someone waiting for you in my
office."

    The Warden held open his
office door, and Ellery perceived Chief Dakin of Wrightsville within,
smiling at him.

    "Dakin!"

    "Hullo again, Mr.
Queen."

    They shook hands with
pleasure. Chief Dakin was an elongated countryman with transparent
eyes and a large Yankee nose who would have looked perfectly at home
behind a plow. But his mouth was almost tender, and there was an air
about him-of dependability, gravity, and intelligence -that lifted
him out of a type. He was baritone soloist of the First
Congregationalist choir of High Village, a tolerant teetotaler, and
the best poker player in Wright County. He had been Wrightsville's
Chief of Police for over twenty years.

    "But why are you here,
Chief?" demanded Ellery. "I thought I was to meet one of
Prosecutor