The White Elephant Mystery by Ellery Queen Jr

Author:Ellery Queen Jr. [Queen, Ellery]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781504003971
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 1950-04-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Not a Minute to Lose!

A very few minutes later Cannonball parked near the entrance to the Brewster House and they all went inside. Cannonball went up to the desk and asked if Mr. Furlong had come in.

“Not yet,” the clerk told him. “I’ll give him your message as soon as he comes in.”

“Never mind that message,” Cannonball said. “Tell him I’ll be over at the circus lot, and tell him to contact me through the radio telephone at the State Police station.”

“Yes sir,” the clerk said. “I’ll tell him, Mr. McGinnty.”

“Now, kids,” Cannonball said, “do you want to go over to the circus with me or wait here for Socker?”

“I’d like to go over to the circus,” Tommy said.

“So would I, I think, if you’re sure Mr. Furlong will get in touch with you the minute he comes back,” said Djuna.

“He will,” Cannonball said. “Let’s take these bags up to your room and then we’ll be on our way.”

When Cannonball put the key in the lock of their room they could hear the telephone ringing inside. Cannonball threw the door open and crossed the room to pick up the phone.

“McGinnty speaking,” he said.

“Oh, Mr. McGinnty,” the hotel telephone operator said, “a man named Canavan from the Morning Bugle is trying to get Mr. Furlong on the telephone. I thought you might know where he could reach him.”

“He ought to know how to reach him better than I ***do,” Cannonball said.

“Well, I just thought—”

“Put him on. Let me talk to him,” Cannonball said.

There was a silence for a moment and then Mr. Canavan, Socker Furlong’s boss on the Morning Bugle, said, “What’s the matter with Furlong, McGinnty? Is he still in bed? Can’t you wake him up?”

Cannonball laughed and said, “He’s been up since six o’clock when your night editor called him and put him on a story over in Farmholme.”

“Farmholme!” Mr. Canavan shouted. “No one around here put him on any story in Farmholme!”

“Are you sure of that, Mr. Canavan?” Cannonball asked. “He telephoned me at six this morning and said he’d just had a call from the night editor assigning him to a story over in Farmholme. He asked me to do an errand for him this morning because he wouldn’t be here to take care of it.”

“Wait a minute!” Mr. Canavan snarled.

Cannonball waited and in a few moments Mr. Canavan came back on the line and said, “That’s a lot of eyewash, McGinnty. No one called him from here.”

“But—”

“Besides,” Mr. Canavan broke in sarcastically, “we wouldn’t call him at that time in the morning because we’d be sure we couldn’t wake him up.”

“But someone did call him, I tell you,” shouted Cannonball, because he was getting a little irritated now, too.

“Look, McGinnty,” Mr. Canavan said. “You’re supposed to be working with him on this grifter story, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Cannonball said.

“Well, why don’t I get some copy?” Mr. Canavan roared. “You tell Furlong I want—”

“We got our first break yesterday,” Cannonball interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about it over the telephone.

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