There Was an Old Woman

by Ellery Queen

  "Do you think I .., really could?"

  "Shucks."

  Almost rapturously, Sheila said: "If I could .., a new life ... It would be fun with you! If you really meant it—"

  "I really mean it," said Mr. Queen simply.

  "Then I'll do it!" She jumped from the sofa. "By golly, I'll do it!" In her excitement she began to race up and down, flying from place to place. "Is this where you work? Is it hard? Doesn't anyone ever clean this desk? That's a terrible photo of you. Light's bad in here. Where's your typewriter? Maybe I could start today. I mean, the school . . . Oh, gosh, a new life, a new name, working with Ellery Queen ... A new name," she said damply. "But I don't like Susie McGargle."

  "That," said Ellery, watching her skim about with a delight that surprised him, "that was a low inspiration of the moment, chosen merely for illustration."

  "How you talk!" Sheila laughed and for the first time in a long time Mr. Queen thought how delicious can be a woman's laughter. "Well, then, what's my name going to be? It's your idea—you baptize me."

  Ellery closed his eyes. "Name ... Pretty problem. Pretty problem for a pretty subject. Red hair, dimples ..." He sat up, beaming. "D'ye know, here's a remarkable coincidence!"

  "What, Ellery?"

  "The heroine of my new book has red hair and dimples!"

  "Really? What's her name? Whatever it is—even if it's Grimalkin—or Pollywog—I'll take it for my own!"

  "You will?"

  "Certainly."

  "Well, you're in luck," said Ellery, grinning. "It's a darned sweet name, if I do say so as shouldn't."

  "What is it?"

  Mr. Queen told her.

  "Nicky?" Sheila looked doubtful.

  "Spelled N-i-k-k-i."

  "Nikki! Oh, wonderful, wonderful. That's a beautiful name. Nikki . . . Mr. Queen, I buy it!"

  "As for a last name," murmured that gentleman, "I can't give you my heroine's .., it's Dempsey .., perfectly good name, but inappropriate for you, somehow. Let me see. What would go well with 'Nikki' and you?"

  "Nikki... Nikki Jones? Nikki Brown? Nikki Green—"

  "Heavens no. No poetry. Nikki Keats? Nikki Lowell? Nikki Fowler? ... Fowler. E-r ending. Er. Yes, that would be good. An er ending in a two-syllable name. Parker. Farmer. Porter ... Porter! Nikki Porter!" Ellery sprang to his feet. "That's it," he cried. "Nikki Porter."

  "Yes," said Nikki Porter, all soft and tender and merry and grateful at once. "Yes, Mr. Queen."

  "Ellery to you, Miss Porter," beamed Mr. Queen.

  "Nikki to you... Ellery."