Queen’s Bureau of Investigation by Ellery Queen Page B

gone.
    From this it was a logical step to securing their future. Mrs. Andrus directed Attorney De Rose immediately to place the bulk of her property into a fund earmarked for her birds’ support, maintenance, and loving care. Mr. De Rose and Dr. Cooke consented to administer the fund, and Miss Baggott was specified as permanent curator. When the last myna should have passed away, the fund was to be administered for the benefit of designated charities.
    In the interim, Mrs. Andrus asked little for herself. The attorney paid her bills, she and the mynas were company for each other, and she was content.
    Her pets’ one failing, Mrs. Andrus sometimes felt, was their inability to play contract bridge, the only other interest of her declining years. For this diversion she had to depend on Dr. Cooke and Mr. De Rose, with Miss Baggott making the fourth. On such evenings as the gentlemen could spare for her entertainment, the old lady would be ensconced in her wheelchair at the bridge table, playing a remarkably shrewd game for a tenth of a cent a point. Her bridge nights completed her happiness.
    But on the last night of her life, Mrs. Andrus was not happy. Her usually pleasant face, as she wheeled herself into her living room, was positively menacing. Miss Baggott, who had set up the bridge table and chairs, glanced quickly at the physician and the lawyer.
    â€œNothing wrong, I hope, Mrs. Andrus?” asked Dr. Cooke genially, waving his cigar. “We’re not feeling that nasty pain again tonight, are we?”
    â€œIt’s nothing a grand slam won’t cure—eh, Mrs. Andrus?” roared De Rose. “Well, well, the usual partners?”
    â€œThe game,” said Mrs. Andrus, not stirring from her doorway, “is over.” Behind her, in the bedroom, thirty-eight pairs of unwinking eyes looked on attentively.
    â€œOver?” Miss Baggott half rose.
    Hello, funnyface! said a bass voice suddenly from somewhere behind Mrs. Andrus.
    â€œHush, Minnie,” said the old lady, without turning. “You thought I was asleep at my naptime today, Miss Baggott, but you were quite mistaken. I overheard what you said on the phone to Mr. De Rose and Dr. Cooke. Don’t you trust your confederates, Miss Baggott? Or have they been cheating their own kind, too?”
    â€œConfederates? Cheating?” said Attorney De Rose heartily.
    â€œI’m sure I don’t know what you think you overheard, Mrs. Andrus—” began Dr. Cooke with a smile.
    â€œI overheard enough, Doctor, to realize why you brought Mr. De Rose and Miss Baggott into my life. I’m being systematically robbed by the three of you. I’ve been an old fool, but not any more! First,” said the old lady in the same hard voice, “you’re to put back what you’ve taken. You have ten minutes to give me an accounting of the stolen funds.”
    â€œTen minutes?” said the doctor incredulously.
    â€œTen minutes, Dr. Cooke. Then we’ll go on from there.”
    Say ah! said another bass voice.
    Mrs. Andrus backed her wheelchair swiftly into her bedroom and slammed the door.
    The three at the card table were silent for some time. Then Dr. Cooke said pleasantly, “Well, Baggie, you messed it up. Suppose you fix it.”
    â€œThat’s right, blame me,” shrilled Miss Baggott. “I warned you two not to be so greedy—to wait till she kicked off! Put the money back. Maybe she won’t prosecute—”
    â€œAcademic,” murmured the doctor. “The bookies have my share. And from the way you’ve been painting the town, De Rose, I gather you’re in the same stable. Any suggestions from our legal department?”
    The lawyer extinguished his cigaret in the ashtray before him with a brutal thumb; under his tan, he was livid. “The way I’d fixed it, we could have gone on working this gold mine for years. Who’d squawk—the