Her Purse, His Pocket: Frances Ives-Pope Breaks Her Silence!

Her Purse, His Pocket: Frances Ives-Pope Breaks Her Silence

“Catharine, my dear,” said Ives-Pope in a low voice to the stout woman as she sank into a great chair, “these are the gentlemen whom I told you about — Inspector Richard Queen and Mr. Ellery Queen.”

The two Queens bowed, receiving a stony glance from the myopic eyes of Mrs. Ives-Pope. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she shrilled. “Where’s Nurse? Nurse! I feel faint, please.”

The uniformed girl hurried to her side, the green bottle ready. Mrs. Ives-Pope closed her eyes and inhaled, sighing with relief. The financier hurriedly introduced the white-haired 165man, Dr. Vincent Cornish, the family physician. The physician made swift apologies and disappeared behind the butler. “Great chap, this Cornish,” whispered Sampson to Queen. “Not only the most fashionable doctor on the Drive but a genuine scientist as well.” The Inspector elevated his brows but said nothing.

“The mater’s one reason why I never cared for the medical profession,” Stanford Ives-Pope was saying in a loud whisper to Ellery.

“Ah! Frances, my dear!” Ives-Pope hurried forward, followed by Barry, who dashed for the door. Mrs. Ives-Pope’s fishy stare enveloped his back with cold disapproval. James Peale coughed embarrassedly and made a mumbled remark to Sampson.

Frances, attired in a filmy morning gown, her face pale and drawn, entered the room leaning heavily on the arm of Eve Ellis, the actress. Her smile was somewhat forced as she murmured a greeting to the Inspector. Peale introduced Eve Ellis, and the two girls seated themselves near Mrs. Ives-Pope. The old lady was sitting squarely in her chair, glaring at her like a lioness whose cub had been threatened. Two servants appeared silently and set chairs for the men. At Ives-Pope’s urgent request, the Queen sat down at the oversized desk. Ellery refused a chair, preferring to lean against a bookcase behind and to the side of the company.

When the conversation had died away, the Inspector cleared his throat and turned toward Frances, who, after a startled flutter of the eyelids, returned his glance steadily.

“First of all, Miss Frances — I hope I may call you that,” began Queen in a fatherly tone, “allow me to explain my tactics of Monday night and to apologize for what must have seemed to you a unwarranted severity. From what Mr. Ives-Pope has told me, you can explain your actions on the night of the murder of Monte Field. I take 166it; therefore, as far as you are concerned, our little chat this morning will effectually remove you from the investigation. Before we have that chat, please believe me when I say that Monday night, you were to me merely one of several suspicious characters. I acted by my habits in such cases. I see now how, to a woman of your breeding and social position, a grilling by a policeman under such tense circumstances would cause sufficient shock to bring on your present condition.”

Frances smiled wearily. “You’re forgiven, Inspector,” she said in a clear, low voice. “It was my fault for being so foolish. I’m ready to answer any questions you may care to ask me.”

“In just a moment, my dear.” The Inspector shifted a bit to include the entire silent company in his following remark. “I should like to make one point, ladies and gentlemen,” he said gravely. “We are assembled here for a definite purpose, which is to discover a possible connection, and there must be one, between the fact that Miss Ives-Pope’s bag was found in the dead man’s pocket and the fact that Miss Ives-Pope was unable to explain this circumstance. Now, whether this morning’s work bears fruit or not, I must ask you all to keep whatever is said a profound secret. As District Attorney Sampson knows very well, I do not generally investigate with such a large audience. But I am making this exception because I believe you are all deeply concerned about the unfortunate young lady who has been drawn into this crime. You cannot, however, expect any consideration at my hands if one word of today’s conversation reaches outside ears. Do we understand each other?”

“I say, Inspector,” protested young Ives-Pope, “that’s putting it a bit strong. We all of us know the story, anyway.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Ives-Pope,” retorted the Inspector with 167a grim smile, “that is the reason I have consented to have all of you here.”

There was a little rustle, and Mrs. Ives-Pope opened her mouth as if to burst into wrathful speech. A sharp look from her husband made her lips droop together, with the protest unuttered. She transferred her glare to the actress sitting by Frances’ side. Eve Ellis blushed. The nurse stood by Mrs. Ives-Pope with the smelling salts, like a setter-dog about to point.

“Now, Miss Frances,” resumed Queen kindly, “this is where we stand. I examine the body of a dead man named Monte Field, a prominent lawyer who was enjoying an interesting play before he was so unceremoniously done away with, and find, in the rear coat-tail pocket of his full-dress suit, an evening bag. I identify this as yours by a few calling cards and some personal papers inside. I say to myself, ‘Aha! A lady enters the problem!’ — naturally enough. And I send one of my men to summon you, with the idea of allowing you to explain a most suspicious circumstance. You come — and you faint on being confronted with your property and the news of its place of discovery. At the time, I say to myself, ‘This young lady knows something!’ — a not unnatural conclusion. Now, in what way can you convince me that you know nothing — and that your fainting was caused only by the shock of the thing? Remember, Miss Frances — I am putting the problem not as Richard Queen but as a policeman looking for the truth.”

“My story is not as illuminating, perhaps, as you might like it to be, Inspector,” answered Frances quietly, in the deep hush that followed Queen’s peroration. “I don’t see how it is going to help you at all. But some facts which I think are unimportant may be significant to your trained mind… Roughly, this is what happened.

“I came to be in the Roman Theatre Monday night in 168a natural way. Since my engagement to Mr. Barry, although it has been a hushed affair” — Mrs. Ives-Pope sniffed; her husband looked steadfastly at a point beyond his daughter’s dark hair — “I have often dropped into the theatre, following a habit of meeting my fiancé after the performance. At such times, he would either escort me home or take me to someplace in the neighborhood for supper. Generally, we make arrangements in advance for these theatre meetings, but sometimes I drop in unexpectedly if the opportunity presents itself. Monday night was one of those times…

“I got to the Roman a few minutes before the end of the first act since I have, of course, seen ‘Gunplay’ any number of times. I had my regular seat — arranged for me many weeks ago by Mr. Barry through Mr. Panzer — and had no more than settled myself to watch the performance when the curtain came down for the first intermission. I was feeling a little warm; the air was none too good… I went first to the ladies’ restroom downstairs off the general lounge. Then I came up again and went out into the alley through the open door. There was quite a crowd of people there, enjoying the air.”

She paused for a moment, and Ellery, leaning against the bookcase, sharply surveyed the faces of the little audience. Mrs. Ives-Pope was looking about in her leviathan manner; Ives-Pope was still staring at the wall above Frances’ head; Stanford was biting his fingernails; Peale and Barry were both watching Frances with nervous sympathy, looking furtively at Queen as if to gauge the effect of her words upon him; Eve Ellis’s hand had stolen forward to clasp Frances’ firmly.

The Inspector cleared his throat once more.

“Which alley was it, Miss Frances — the one on the left or the one on the right?” he asked.

“The one on the left, Inspector,” she answered promptly.

169“You know I was sitting in M8 Left, and I suppose it was natural for me to go to the alley on that side.”

“Quite so,” said Queen, smiling. “Go on, please.”

“I stepped out into the alley,” she resumed, less nervously, “and, not seeing anyone I knew, stood close to the brick wall of the theatre, a little behind the open iron door. The freshness of the night air after the rain was delightful. I hadn’t been standing there for more than two minutes when I felt somebody brush up against me. I naturally moved a little to one side, thinking the person had stumbled. But when he — it was a man — when he did it again, I became a little frightened and started to walk away. He — he grasped my wrist and pulled me back. We were halfway behind the iron door, which was not pushed back completely, and I doubt if anyone noticed his action.”

“I see — I see,” murmured the Inspector sympathetically. “It seems an unusual thing for a total stranger to do in a public place.”

“It seemed as if he wanted to kiss me, Inspector. He leaned over and whispered, ‘Good evening, honey!’ and — well, of course, I jumped to that conclusion. I drew back a little and said as coldly as I could, ‘Please let me go, or I will call for help.’ He just laughed at that and bent closer. The reek of whisky on his breath was overpowering. It made me ill.”

She stopped. Eve Ellis patted her hand reassuringly. Peale nudged Barry forcibly as the young man half-rose to his feet in muttered protest. “Miss Frances, I’m going to ask you a peculiar question — it’s almost ridiculous when you come to think of it,” said the Inspector, leaning back in his chair. “Did the reek on his breath suggest good liquor or bad liquor?… There! I knew you’d smile.” The entire company tittered at the whimsical expression on the Queen’s face.

170“Well, Inspector — it’s hard to answer that,” returned the girl freely. “I’m afraid I’m not on intimate terms with spirits. But from what I can remember, it had the odor of rather fine liquor. Fine liquor — but plenty of it!” she concluded with a grim little toss of her head.

“I would’ve spotted the vintage in a minute if I’d been there!” muttered Stanford Ives-Pope.