by Ellery Queen
Nick shrugged. “Same as you. I just looked in on it.”
The detective frowned at him, squinting his eyes against the sun. “I haven’t come across you since the Brazen Letters affair, Nick. What have you been doing with yourself?”
“This and that.”
“Still stealing?”
“Now, Charlie!”
“What’s your interest in the Satin case, Nick?”
“Just curiosity, nothing more.”
“Somebody hire you to steal something?”
“What is there to steal in a courtroom during a murder trial?”
Charlie Weston thought about that. “Nothing I can think of, but you usually manage to find something.”
Nick managed to grin at him. “This time I’m on vacation.”
“Make sure it stays that way. I’m going to notify the local police that you’re nosing around, just in case.” He turned and walked away, leaving Nick standing in the sunlight.
It was not so much the presence of Charlie Weston in this vicinity as it was the sheer impossibility of the assignment that came to bother Nick as the day wore on. The jury was transported to each of its meals in a closed white van that looked like a cross between a police wagon and an armored car. And although the two court attendants were unarmed, they watched the twelve jurors and the alternate like a pair of hawks. At dinner one sat at each end of the table, making certain that no one approached the jurors or spoke to them. Even the orders to the waiter were given only under the closest supervision.
But there was a single ray of hope. The white van that transported them back and forth the three blocks between courthouse and restaurant was apparently owned by the restaurant—or more exactly, by the motel of which the restaurant was a part. Each time it dropped them off, the driver returned it to the motel parking lot. When Nick observed this he smiled slightly and began to hum a little tune. He knew how the Satin jury could be stolen—all of them—and it was amazingly simple.
It took Nick another two days to work out the details, and in that time the prosecution rested its case against Helen Satin. On the morning the defense called its first witness, Nick was in the courtroom, taking a final look at the jury. He had to be able to recognize them, that was sure!
The lead-off defense witness was Gregory Satin himself, a towering man who spoke in a voice that boomed out against the walls of the crowded courtroom. Satin was one of the current crop of self-made millionaires—a skillful businessman and electronics engineer who had parlayed a small computer business into a multimillion-dollar chain of time-sharing offices in every major city of the country. The newspapers liked to call Gregory Satin “The Computer King,” and he was not modest enough to offer any objections to that designation.
“Tell me, Mr. Satin,” the defense counsel opened, “just why did you construct this maze in your garden?”
The tall man let go with his booming voice. “I visited the maze at Hampton Court Palace some years back, and it fascinated me. When we needed something to fill in a large section of our garden, Helen and I both remembered the maze. It was planted with yew hedges about eight years ago.”
“Your wife knew her way through the maze?”
“Of course. We both did.”
The defense attorney paused for a moment and then continued, “Now tell us, Mr. Satin, in your own words—just what was your relationship with the deceased woman?”
“I had been—uh—living with Laura Indris with some regularity for almost a year.”
“You say with some regularity?”
“About two or three times a month. She wanted me to divorce Helen and marry her.”
“And you refused?”
“I did. In fact, I was in the process of breaking off the affair when Helen discovered it.”
“After she discovered it, did she make any threats against Laura Indris?”
“No. On the contrary, the only threat was made by Laura. She told me if Helen wouldn’t divorce me she’d kill her.”
There was an audible hum from the spectators, although the jury remained impassive. The judge banged his gavel and then the defense questioning continued. “She actually threatened your wife’s life?”
“That’s correct.”
“Now, Mr. Satin, will you tell us in your own words exactly what happened on the night of January 15th and the early morning of the 16th?”
“Laura had been threatening to come out to the house, to confront Helen and settle the question of a divorce once and for all. But I didn’t really think she would, and I certainly wasn’t expecting her that night. For one thing, it was snowing and the driving was bad. Around ten o’clock I received a call from my office in town. There was a problem with our new British branch that had to be settled at once. I drove into town for a conference and ended up phoning London, getting my branch manager out of bed at five in the morning, their time. It was still snowing when I started home, just after midnight, and I had to drive slowly. When I reached home there were two police cars in the driveway. A detective named Reager told me what had happened.”
When the judge adjourned the court for lunch, Nick decided he’d studied the jurors’ faces long enough. He didn’t really need to return in the afternoon, but the case was beginning to fascinate him. He wanted to hear Helen Satin tell about that duel. And so, when court resumed after lunch, he was back in his last-row seat. The woman who’d been only a head at the defense table now rose and took the stand, revealing a youthful, dark-haired beauty that the newspaper photos had only hinted at. In fact, Helen Satin was so classically lovely in her black dress and pale makeup that Nick wondered how any man could desert her for another woman.
She began to speak in a voice so low the judge had to instruct her to talk louder. “I thought we were very happy. The way I learned about Laura Indris was such a foolish thing, I almost had to laugh. They’d stayed at a New York hotel together one night, registering as Mr. and Mrs. Satin. She had a distinctive travel alarm clock in a red leather case, and she left it in the room. Of course the hotel returned it to me, and I recognized it at once.
“I showed the clock to Gregory and he admitted everything. We even discussed the possibility of a divorce, but I told him quite frankly I wouldn’t let him go without a fight. He agreed finally to break off the affair with her.”
“Did Laura Indris get in touch with you at all during this period?”
The dark-haired woman hesitated for a second and then replied, “Yes, she did. When Gregory told her what had happened, she telephoned and demanded that I free him. She threatened me.”
“Just how did she do that?”
“She said she’d kill me to get him.”
“Did you report this threat to the police?”
“No. I didn’t take it seriously at the time.”
“And what happened on the night of January 15th?”
“My husband was called away on business shortly before ten o’clock, and I was left alone. A car pulled into the driveway. I couldn’t imagine who’d be out on such a bad night, but I went to the door and saw that it was Laura. I think she’d been drinking, but she wasn’t really drunk. She forced her way into the house and told me we were going to settle the thing once and for all.
“I suppose we screamed at each other for the better part of a half hour before she picked up a lamp and flung it at me. I was terrified and I ran to Gregory’s desk. He had a matched pair of pistols on the desk which he’d cleaned and loaded for some target practice earlier in the evening. That’s when Laura suggested the duel, when she saw the twin pistols. I told her she was insane, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“She forced you to take part in this duel?”
“Yes. She picked up one of the pistols and I had no choice but to take the other and defend myself. She said she’d give me five minutes’ start and then come after me. The one who lived would have Gregory all to herself.”
There was dead silence in the courtroom as she spoke, and Nick saw the jurors leaning
forward, tense with every word.
“Who chose the maze?” the lawyer asked.
“I did. I knew how to reach the center quickly, and I thought I’d be safe there till Gregory returned. Usually it takes someone hours to find their way through the thing. I ran into the maze carrying the pistol. It was easy to find my way because the night had cleared by then and there was a full moon. I was wearing a fur parka to keep warm.”
“What time did you enter the maze?”
“Just after eleven, I think. Perhaps about a quarter past. I went directly to the center and waited, feeling sure I’d be safe. After about five minutes I could hear her, outside the maze, calling my name. I think she must have started inside then. For the next half hour I heard her every few minutes, cursing and calling out my name, but she seemed to get no closer. I could hear occasional cars on the road, but I couldn’t see them, of course. I only prayed that one of them would be Gregory, but he didn’t come in time.”
“Finally she found you?”
“She found me. It took her at least a half hour, but she found me. She came into the center of the maze and faced me across a little stone table we have there. She started to raise her arm and I heard a shot. Her bullet missed me, but I had no choice. I had to fire back, to save my own life! She must have been turning when the bullet hit her.” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly. There was a murmur from the spectators and the judge banged his gavel.
Nick rose from his seat and slipped out the door. He would have like to remain for the cross-examination, but the afternoon was dragging on and he had a few final arrangement to make.
Exactly at five-thirty the telephone rang in the motel garage. The uniformed attendant answered the phone and said, “I’m on my way.” He locked the door behind him and walked across the enclosed portion of the garage to the parking lot that bordered one side of the motel. He was whistling as he approached the closed white van at one end of the lot and opened the door.
As he slid into the driver’s seat Nick hit him from behind and pulled his limp body into the back of the van. Within three minutes Nick had changed clothes with the unconscious man, stretching the pants and shirt and coat as much as he could. The man was thinner than Nick by some thirty pounds, but perhaps they wouldn’t notice the tight fit if he stayed behind the wheel.
The driver was propped in the rear of the van and covered with a sack. Then Nick got out and walked around to the back, opened the double doors, and pulled the sack-covered body out. He stuffed him into the back seat of a convenient unlocked car, hoping nobody was watching from the motel windows. Even so, they wouldn’t have time to do anything. In five minutes it would be all over.
Nick drove the van out of the parking lot and headed for the courthouse. It was going to be easy. So easy.
They were waiting at the curb for him—13 jurors and the two uniformed court attendants. Nick pulled up and opened the door. The male attendant stuck his head in and asked. “Where’s Tommy?”
“Went home sick.”
The jurors climbed in awkwardly, with two of the more elderly needing assistance. When they were seated in the van, in two rows facing each other, Nick reached down and turned on the valve in the little tank by his feet. Then he quickly started the motor to cover the hiss of gas. The white van moved forward.
“You’re going the wrong way!” the woman attendant said.
“They got the street torn up. I have to go around the block.”
“Street torn up at this time of night?”
“Broken water main. It’s all flooded.” Nick covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, breathing as best he could from a tiny oxygen inhaler hidden inside it. He hoped the stuff worked quickly.
“What’s that noise?” one of the male jurors asked. “Sounds like gas escaping. Maybe your muffler’s shot.”
“It’s okay,” Nick mumbled through the handkerchief.
There was a thud from the back as one of the jurors toppled to the floor. “Something’s wrong here!” another man shouted. “Something’s—”
Nick speeded up and took the next corner with a recklessness that threatened to overturn them. Suddenly the guard was at his throat, trying to yank him from the wheel. “You’re not—” The grip relaxed almost at once. After another block Nick turned his head for a quick check. The 15 people in the back of the van were toppled in various positions, all unconscious. He knew the gas would keep them that way for about two hours, which should be long enough.
A few miles farther on, near the city line, Nick pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. Adam Whipple was waiting for him standing beside his car with an expression of smiling satisfaction. “You did it?” he asked as Nick climbed out of the van.
“One Satin jury, complete with alternate and two court attendants. They’re taking a bit of a nap, and should stay like that for about two hours. Where do you want me to take them?”
“Out to Gregory Satin’s estate.”
Nick whistled softly. “Why there?”
Whipple lit a thin cigar, sheltering the match from the evening breeze. “You said I wanted a mistrial, and you were right. We’ve probably got one already, but I have to be certain. The judge might decide that the mere kidnaping of the jury for a few hours or even a day didn’t contaminate them as far as the case was concerned. But if they’re found at Satin’s estate, in the company of the defendant’s husband, there can be no doubt of a mistrial.”
“All right,” Nick said. “You’re paying the bills.” He was prepared for a journey, since he’d known Whipple would want the stolen jury taken somewhere. Quickly he changed the license plate on the van, and then he unrolled two adhesive-backed signs for the side panels of the van. In an instant it had become a delivery truck for The Star Florist Shop.
“Clever,” Whipple commented, puffing on his cigar.
“I wish I had time to paint it some other color.” Although they were in an empty portion of the parking lot, Nick cast an anxious eye toward a supermarket a hundred yards away where a brisk evening trade was developing. “We’d better get going. I’ll follow you.”
Whipple nodded and climbed into his car. “If we see any police, just leave the truck and run,” he advised Nick.
“Don’t worry, I’ll deliver them. You haven’t paid me the rest of the money yet.”
The estate of Gregory Satin was only a few miles out of the city, in a low rambling countryside that came into view all at once as Nick reached the top of a hill. He had to admit it was a beautiful place, with horses grazing along a rail fence and a tree-lined driveway curving up to the big English-style manor house. If any home demanded a yew-hedge maze in its gardens, this one did.
Adam Whipple’s car pulled up to the front door, and Nick brought the white van to a stop right behind it. As he got out, the front door opened and the tall familiar figure of Gregory Satin appeared.
“Well, Whipple, I never thought you’d have the nerve to show your face around here again! Who’s this fellow in the truck?”
“We’ve brought you something,” Whipple said with the tone of a magician about to perform his newest trick. “Come here and look.”
Whatever Satin’s reaction was to be at finding his wife’s jury in that truck, Nick felt he’d rather not witness it. He moved away from the white van, over to the side of the house, anxious to see this strange maze that had been the scene of an equally strange duel.
And there it was—the top of its hedges a foot above Nick’s head. The yew bushes had grown together so thickly that walking through them, or even seeing through them, was impossible. And of course he could not see over them. He suspected that other plants, possibly holly, had been intermixed to increase the density.
Nick heard Gregory Satin say, in a loud voice, “Whipple, you must be mad to do a thing like this!” Nick entered the maze.
It was a strange twilight world here, where all he could see was the dim June sky above him. In every other direction there was only the green of the
yew hedges, thick and alive with frustration. In some places the passage was so narrow that the tendrils stung his face.
What had he read somewhere, of a maze in Crete which was supposed to have a Minotaur at its center? He wondered what he would find at the center of Gregory Satin’s maze, wondered what treasure or terror might await him.
As he rounded the final inner corner of the labyrinth and saw the stone table that marked its center, a figure all in black turned at the sound of his approach. Nick’s heart tensed with surprise.
“What are you doing here?” the woman’s voice asked. It was the accused murderess, Helen Satin.
“I could ask you the same question,” Nick Velvet said. “I saw you in the courtroom only a few hours ago.”
She was even more lovely close up, in this strange twilight, than she had been in court. “Do you think they’ve kept me locked in a cell since January? I’ve been out on bail, of course. Now who are you, and how did you find the center of the labyrinth?”
“My name is Nick Velvet. I’m a business associate of Adam Whipple.”
She snorted at that. “Whipple is a fool. He came to us after the shooting and told Gregory he could get me off. He said that for fifty thousand dollars he’d guarantee my exoneration.”
Nick mentally subtracted his own $20,000 fee from that amount and decided that Whipple would turn a good profit if the thing came off. “Did your husband pay him the money?”
“If you’re Whipple’s business associate you should know that he didn’t. In fact, my husband threw him out of the house.” She stepped around the stone table for a closer view of him in the failing light. “Now suppose you answer my other question. How did you find the center of the maze so quickly?”
“How do you know I did it quickly?” Nick countered.
“Because I just came in here myself, when I saw the car and the van driving up. I thought it might be a television news crew, and I wanted to get away from them.”
“Do you often use the maze to get away from people?”
“You’re thinking of that night, aren’t you, Mr. Velvet? When I ran away from Laura Indris—”