Queens Full by Ellery Queen

route to Benedict’s dressing room to take the knife from the tool chest. What’s been holding Newby up is motive.”
    Joan’s lips moved, but nothing came out.
    â€œNewby knows perfectly well that Benedict’s conduct onstage last night, rotten as it was, toward a girl who’d never laid eyes on him before would hardly pass muster as a reason for her to run for the nearest knife. But with the background of that romance between you six years ago in this very town, Joan, and your lie about it, and especially if the New York police dig up your letters, Benedict’s humiliation of you in public last night takes on an entirely different meaning. It becomes a motive that would convince anybody.
    â€œAdd to opportunity, weapon, and motive Benedict’s dying declaration, and you see how near you are to being formally charged with the murder.”
    â€œYou’re a help,” Roger stormed. “I thought you’d be on Joan’s side.”
    â€œAnd on yours, Roger?”
    â€œMine?”
    â€œDon’t you know you’re Newby’s ace in the hole? You threatened six years ago to kill Benedict—”
    â€œAre you serious? That was just talk!”
    â€œâ€”and you beat him up. You’ve admitted the knife that killed Benedict is yours, and you brought it to the theater the day of the murder. You probably can’t account for your whereabouts during every minute of the short murder period. If not for Benedict’s statement, Newby would have a stronger case against you than against Joan. As it is, Rodge, you may be facing an accessory charge.”
    For once Roger found nothing to say. Joan’s hand stole into his.
    â€œHowever,” Ellery said briskly. “Joan, do you still maintain you didn’t kill Benedict?”
    â€œOf course. Because I didn’t.”
    â€œWould you be willing to take a test that might prove you didn’t?”
    â€œYou mean a lie detector test?”
    â€œSomething far more direct. On the other hand, I’ve got to point out that if you did kill Benedict, this test might constitute evidence against you as damning as a fingerprint.”
    Joan rose. “What do I do, Mr. Queen?”
    â€œRodge, ask the police officer in the car parked across the street to drive Joan and you to Newby’s office. I’ll meet you there.” He took Joan’s hand in both of his. “This is beginning to shape up as quite a girl.”
    â€œNever mind her shape,” Roger said. “Can’t you go with us?”
    â€œI have something to pick up first,” Ellery said, “at a hardware store.”

ACT III. Scene 2.
    He walked into Anselm Newby’s office with a small package under his arm to find Joan and Roger seated close together under Newby’s mineral eye. A tall, thin man in a business suit turned from the window as Ellery came in.
    â€œFowler’s been telling me about some test or other you want to make, Queen,” the little police chief said acidly. “I thought we’d agreed you were to keep your nose out of this case.”
    â€œThat was a unilateral agreement, you’ll recall,” Ellery said, smiling. “However, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to make a false arrest, and the Prosecutor of Wright County wouldn’t want to try a hopeless case. Isn’t that so, Mr. Odham?” he asked the man at the window.
    â€œSo you know who I am.” The tall man came forward with a grin.
    â€œThe Record runs your photo with flattering regularity.”
    Prosecutor Odham pumped Ellery’s hand. “Art Chalanski, my predecessor, has told me some fantastic stories about you.”
    â€œApparently Chief Newby doesn’t share your enthusiasm for fantasy,” Ellery murmured. “By the way, Mr. Odham, you were about to charge Joan Truslow with the Benedict murder, weren’t you? I haven’t dared ask the chief.”
    Newby glared and