In a few hours, this character assassin will be murdered.
Who killed him?
Was in the man with a cane?
The Russian diplomat?
On behalf of my government, I must protest.
His wife with the damaging past?
But he was alive when I left!
The photographer?
It was a nightmare... the Gestapo.
Stop!
Or was it someone else?
Incredible!
Match wits with Ellery Queen
and see if you can guess who done it.
There you are.
Yes, if you saw the reviews in yesterday's papers.
They were all very kind, indeed, very kind.
There you are.
I say... we are doing a brisk trade, and only the first day.
I had no idea I was so well-known here in America.
Good publicity helps, Colonel.
Such a lovely, delicate hand, my dear.
Why don't we ride together to the cocktail party?
I think I'd better get some more books.
[Speaking inaudibly]
Jenny?
Jen?
Jenny, I've been waiting in Alexander's for about an hour now.
Didn't we have a lunch date?
Oh, yes, but that was yesterday, and I waited an hour.
Well, yesterday was Tuesday.
And today's Wednesday, and tomorrow's Thursday,
and, anyway, I've already eaten.
Well, we'll have dinner tonight.
Sorry. I have to go to a literary-club cocktail party,
in honor of my newest client.
There you are, my dear.
Don't recognize him.
Colonel Alec Nivin.
Oh, "Memoirs of a Spy."
The old lecher thinks he's a celebrity,
but actually it's all due to my publicity... front page.
There you are, sir. Thank you.
Oh, I'm sorry, sir. We'll have to make it one to a customer.
We're running a bit short, you know.
Colonel, may I present Ellery Queen?
Oh, a friend of yours, is he, Miss O'Brien?
Thank you.
Well, I suppose we... we could make an exception, Mr... .
Queen.
Yes, well, I told my publisher that 2,000 copies... thank you...
wouldn't be enough for the first printing.
But let me tell you, young man...
it'll be the second volume that's going to break sales records.
- Mr. Queen is an author, also. - Oh, really?
Well, you keep it up, my boy,
and I'd be very happy to put a word in for you with my publisher.
- Oh, that won't be... - Here, let me sign that for you.
- Oh, that won't be necessary. - "To my good friend Elliot..."
Uh, Ellery.
- Ellery? - Queen.
Oh. "Ellery.
Colonel Alec Nivin, V.C."
That's "Victoria Cross", you know.
That's the last copy, sir. We're sold out.
- That'll be $4, even. - Okay.
- The first day. - Marvelous.
I was developing a bit of writer's cramp,
as a matter of fact.
This day calls for a bit of a celebration.
What do you say?
Why don't we have dinner after the cocktail party, Jenny?
Absolutely smashing lamb curry at the Safari Club,
and I could arrange for us to be served in my private room,
which you would find absolutely fascinating.
Um, well, actually, I have a dinner engagement with Mr. Queen.
- Isn't that right, Ellery? - What?
Dinner tonight... where were you planning on taking me?
Oh, I don't care.
May I suggest business before pleasure, Miss O'Brien?
I'll need your support with all those dreadful literary-club ladies.
And perhaps Mr. Queen could make it another evening.
As a matter of fact, I've already asked Mr. Queen
to the cocktail party.
- Oh, I don't care much... - JENNY: Well, let's all go together.
What do you say... the Safari Club at 5:00?
And, Ellery, please be on time.
Ladies allowed only in the restaurant, Miss,
gentlemen only in the club, Miss.
Colonel Nivin, please. I'm expected.
Ah, Colonel Nivin. One moment, please, Miss.
[Buzzes doorbell]
Colonel Nivin busy, Miss.
But I have an appointment.
Please to wait in restaurant, Miss.
Ah.
Men only, my eye.
[Buzzes doorbell]
[Knocks on door]
Colonel Nivin?
Ellery?
Colonel Nivin?
Colonel Nivin, l-I don't mean to intrude.
Colonel Nivin?
Who's there?
Ellery? Ellery, is that you?
Stop!
[Clock ticking]
There's another strike.
I wonder what Truman's gonna do now.
Ellery, you better hurry, or you're gonna be late... again.
I'm almost ready, Dad. I forgot my blue socks.
How can you read a book and dress at the same time?
Blue socks? Lift your trousers.
Those are brown socks, not blue socks.
They're brown because I couldn't find the blue socks.
See, I was gonna wear my blue coat, but I couldn't find that, either.
So, when I found my brown socks, I took off the blue coat...
- Incredible! - It certainly is.
Maybe I'll go to Ebbets Field. Wonder who's pitching.
- The Butcher of Prague. - Who?
There's this woman who's the mistress of Gerhart Frölicher,
the Butcher of Prague,
now married to a very important European diplomat.
"Memoirs of a Spy," by Colonel Alec Nivin, V.C.
Another one of those books
about "How I won the war single-handed"?
No, it's more like a Hedda Hopper gossip column.
- A lot of scandal, huh? - Character assassination.
Nivin was with the British Intelligence during the war
and got his hands on some Nazi files,
but they didn't burn them when they evacuated Paris.
- That the latest style? - No, no.
Listen to this, Dad...
"And this dastardly British subject,
who broadcast propaganda programs for the Nazis,
has escaped punishment for his crimes
and is now living in New York
as a respected businessman, using an assumed name."
I thought those guys were all in Argentina.
Here's another one, Dad...
"A French underground leader betrayed his friends
to Nazi torture and death
and escaped after the war to America."
You better put that book down if you're gonna make your date.
Huh?
Oh, it's 5:00. Yeah, I got to hurry. Don't want to keep her waiting again.
Thanks a lot. I'll see you later.
[Telephone ringing]
Yeah?
Oh, hello, Velie.
Colonel Nivin?
Yeah.
Yeah, he's the one who wrote that "Memoirs of a Spy."
Well, of course I know about it.
What do you think I do, just read detective stories?
Yeah, all right. I'll grab a cab and be right down.
Ellery's got the car.
Oh, on second thought,
I think maybe Ellery will be giving me a lift.
Dad, did you see my glasses?
Dad, it's an antique Kashmiri dagger.
I guess it wasn't premeditated.
The dagger fit in this scabbard. See? The handle matches.
The killer must have snatched it on impulse.
Get it to the police lab. Have it checked for prints.
- Maestro. - Hi, Velie.
- Inspector. - What do you got so far?
Well, we caught the murderer... I mean a suspect... I mean a person.
Velie, what are you talking about?
Well, you're not gonna like this, Maestro. It's a friend of yours.
[Snaps fingers]
- Jenny! - Ellery, where were you?
- And the Indian here. - Rosh Kaleel, sir.
He says she waited till his back was turned and slipped in.
He caught her trying to run out the back door.
That is correct, sir.
Now, that is ridiculous! I wasn't trying to run anywhere.
If you must know, I was trying to catch the killer!
Take it easy, Jenny.
What's your estimate of the time of death?
It must have been just after 5:00,
about the time he caught her running out.
Ellery, he was dead when I got here.
Jenny, you're not a policeman. Now, take it easy.
[Sighs]
I heard the door close over there. Someone had just gone out the door.
I started to follow him when that... that... that person grabbed me.
- Inspector... - Now, Jenny...
Don't "Now, Jenny" me, Inspector.
We'll get your statement, and the Indian fellow's, too.
Rosh Kaleel, sir.
Ellery, Ellery, if you had been on time here,
I wouldn't be in this mess!
She's right, Dad. We were supposed to meet here at 5:00.
Whoa, whoa, hold on. What's this?
S.D.
Did Colonel Nivin have a lady in here today?
It is against club rules, sir... definitely not.
Oh, I think he did. Here's a blonde hair.
Are you in a position to see anyone who enters this room?
Yes, sir.
Well, you can't be watching the doors all the time.
Let me ask you a question... who cleans this room?
I do. The room was cleaned thoroughly yesterday,
in anticipation of the Colonel's return.
- Did you turn the cushions over? - Yes, sir.
Then the glove and the hair belong to somebody who was here today.
A woman with the initials S.D.
All we have to do now is check the telephone directory.
Dad, I don't think we have to go that far.
You're forgetting the Colonel's memoirs.
Uh-oh. Look.
Somebody was tampering with the drawer
that contained the Colonel's files, maybe the files for the book.
It's locked.
Let's hope whoever killed Colonel Nivin
didn't get what he or she was looking for.
Nothing.
Dad, here's one... S.D., Sebastian Donlevy.
Now, according to Nivin,
he was the kingpin of the black market...
coffee and chocolate bars, occupied Berlin.
Was he wearing a woman's glove?
Well, it doesn't say that.
- Ellery. - I know... keep looking.
That wouldn't be it.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Maybe it might be.
Does the name Dobrenskov ring a bell?
Alexsei Dobrenskov?
The Soviet diplomat. Sure.
But it doesn't work, Dad. That's A.D., not S.D.
How about Sonja Dobrenskov, his wife?
Yes?
Inspector Richard Queen, New York City Police Department.
I'd like to see Mrs. Dobrenskov, please.
Your credentials, please.
Wait.
You know, technically, as a Russian diplomat's wife,
she doesn't have to talk to us.
Well, I know that, but don't let her know.
I wonder if her husband knows about her background. Shh.
Madam will receive you.
Inspector.
I'm Sonja Dobrenskov. Welcome.
How do you do? This is my son, Ellery.
How do you do?
May I offer you something... tea, perhaps? Vodka?
Nothing for me.
That will be all, Mikhail.
Perhaps if I stayed, Madam, I might be of service.
That will be all.
Of course, Madam.
I'm so sorry.
My husband is still at the embassy, but he's expected momentarily.
Actually, Mrs. Dobrenskov, I've come to talk to you.
Me?
Oh? Have I broken one of your traffic laws perhaps,
or something like that?
I notice that you've been reading "Memoirs of a Spy."
Oh, yes.
I don't know why I bought it... all the publicity, I suppose.
It's very dull, what I've read of it.
- Do you know Colonel Nivin? - Nivin?
Oh, the author. No, no.
Our social connections are very limited.
My husband and I rarely entertain, except officially, of course.
[Outside door closes]
Oh, there is Alexsei now.
This is Inspector Queen and his son.
How do you do?
Ah, Inspector, it is kind of you to come.
An unfortunate accident,
but we must insist that the seaman be returned to us immediately.
Seaman?
The crewman who fell overboard when our ship, the Larissa,
entered New York Harbor this evening.
There must be some misunderstanding.
Our government insists that he be returned to the ship immediately.
You mean that another Russian seaman has defected?
If he has requested political asylum, it is because he is merely confused.
I'm not here about a Russian defector.
Colonel Alec Nivin has been murdered.
Colonel Nivin? No, I'm sorry.
Actually, sir, it's your wife we want to talk with.
Yes, about... about this.
Sonja.
It was found in Nivin's study after the murder.
Inspector, I don't know what you're insinuating,
but my wife and I enjoy diplomatic status.
For you to suggest there is a connection
between my wife and this Colonel Nivin is insulting.
I'm sorry, sir, but that monogram is unmistakable.
Besides, we've seen Colonel Nivin's files.
It is all in the past, my dear.
Inspector, if you have read those files,
you must realize that my wife's relationship with that man in Prague
is most sensitive.
I must rely on your discretion with this information.
Even my superiors are unaware of it.
Yes, rather awkward for a diplomat, especially a Russian diplomat.
Mrs. Dobrenskov, you did go to see Colonel Nivin.
About 4:30, but he was alive when I left.
You must believe me.
But why, Sonja? Why did you go?
For your sake, Alexsei... that book.
I went to beg of him not to make my past public.
I didn't want your career destroyed.
I spoke to him.
He agreed not to use my name if I paid him.
I told him I would find the money.
But he was alive when I left! L-I swear it!
I swear it! I swear it!
Ellery.
[Engine turns over]
[Doorbell rings]
I'm coming! I'm coming!
Oh.
- Good morning, Inspector. - Good... morning.
Is Ellery up?
I think he's in the kitchen. I smell toast burning.
I hope I didn't wake you up.
Oh, no, no, I had to get up, anyway. The doorbell was ringing.
- Morning. - Morning.
Hi, Jenny.
Oh, I've been up all night. It's 6:30. I've been reading these files.
- Well? - Well, what?
Did she confess?
Last time I talked to you,
you were going off to see Sonja Dobrenskov.
Oh, Sonja Dobrenskov... yeah, she was at Colonel Nivin's,
but she maintains that when she left
he was alive, yeah.
Do you want some breakfast?
I've already eaten.
These files are fascinating. Under "E"...
- You want some toast? - No, thanks.
Under "E"?
I found a Colin Esterbrook, British turncoat,
broadcast propaganda for the Nazis.
Now, according to this file,
he's an antique dealer somewhere in the East now.
But there is no note of any assumed name he's used.
There must be hundreds of antique dealers in New York alone.
- He'll be impossible to find. - Unless we get a break.
I also found something in the "F" file...
Free French leader, sold out his friends to the Nazis.
His name is Marcel Fourchet.
- You're kidding! - Huh?
He isn't by any chance a photographer?
Hobbies, hobbies, hobbies, hobbies, hobbies...
ice skating, photography. You know him?
If he's the same man I'm thinking of, he's a freelance photographer,
does a lot of work for Post, Collier's, Life.
He has a studio over on Lexington.
I know some people who've used him for P.R. Assignments.
- I'd better talk to him. - I'll go with you.
I said I better talk to him.
Now, look, Ellery... I was the one
who was caught running from the scene of the murder.
My dad does not think you killed Colonel Alec Nivin.
He's about the only one.
Neither do I, Jenny.
[Telephone ringing]
Hello?
Oh, hi, Velie.
No, he's still sleeping.
You found out what?
Is that right?
Yeah... oh, sure I'll tell him.
- You want to know, don't you? - Sure.
That was the lab report.
The only fingerprints found on Nivin's dagger
were Nivin's and the Indian's.
Then the Indian killed him... that's just what I thought.
No, not necessarily.
The Indian cleaned Nivin's room.
He probably touched the dagger and left his fingerprints on it.
What concerns me is why Mrs. Dobrenskov's prints
weren't on the knife.
She could have killed him with her glove on.
No, it doesn't add up. That was a right-handed glove.
- Is she right-handed? - Yes, she is right-handed.
I saw her light a cigarette last night with her right hand.
Yes, she is right-handed.
Now, if the glove was off,
she would have left fingerprints on the knife.
But if she stabbed him with the glove on,
it doesn't stand to reason
that she would have taken the glove off
and stuffed it in the cushion.
Unless she did it to throw you off the track.
Well, I have to go see Marcel Fourchet.
I'm going with you.
No, you are not. This could be dangerous.
You're not going with me, and that is that... is that!
[Knocking on door]
[Groans]
- Marcel Fourchet? - Hmm?
My name is Ellery Queen. This is Miss O'Brien.
We'd like to talk with you.
Mes amis, you're a lovely couple, but I'm sorry.
I no longer take wedding portraits.
Perhaps I could recommend someone.
No, see, you misunderstand.
We're investigating the death of Colonel Alec Nivin.
May we come in?
- Of course. - Thank you.
[Clears throat]
But I'm afraid I don't even know this...
what did you say his name is... Nivin?
I believe you were
in the Free French Underground during the war.
Yes, and so were many other brave Frenchmen.
Those that survived, those that weren't betrayed by their friends.
I don't know what you're talking about.
We read Colonel Nivin's personal files, Mr. Fourchet.
I'm afraid you've already given yourself away.
You put a bookmark right in the spot where Nivin threatens to expose you.
[Exhales sharply]
I thought all that was safely behind me.
I know what Nivin thought, but you must believe me, Mr. Queen.
It was a nightmare... the Gestapo.
Once they captured you, there was no way to resist them.
The things they did... it... I... I still bear the scars.
I held out for three days, but in the end...
And your friends?
Ah.
We used to laugh, all of us, about the cyanide capsules.
Cyanide capsules?
To kill yourself, keep you from talking.
I wish to God I had had one.
Death did not frighten me.
Death would have been a welcome friend.
Mr. Fourchet, I'm sorry, but I have to ask you about Colonel Nivin.
Where were you yesterday at 5:00?
I was in Boston... on assignment for Life magazine.
The longshoremen's strike... perhaps you've seen my work.
Yes. How long were you there?
Two days. I returned only last evening.
Pretty convenient.
I was delayed developing my last roll of film...
actually, the group of photos you have there, Mr. Queen.
My flight arrived just before midnight.
Can anyone verify you came in on that flight?
Yeah.
I can.
Ah...
[Clears throat]
Mrs. Fourchet?
Not a chance, honey.
May I present Miss Glenda Dunlap, my secretary...
actually, my fiancée.
Let me get you something to put on.
Uh, Miss Dunlap, were you traveling with Mr. Fourchet?
Not a chance. I never get to go anywhere.
Oh, I got to meet his plane at LaGuardia.
He calls me around 9:00 and tells me he's coming in late,
wants me to meet him.
And did you?
Sure, why not?
Look... I saw him get off the plane, if that's what you're getting at.
Yes, yes, yes, yes. Thank you very much.
- Let's go, Ellery. - Yes. We will.
Nice work, Mr. Fourchet.
That will be in next week's edition.
Actually, I must hurry and get them to my editor.
Good luck.
Nice meeting you, Miss Dunlap.
Yeah, sure.
Oh, Ellery, I am so embarrassed...
calling that poor man a liar, and then that girl.
Well, I have learned my lesson...
from now on, it's completely up to you.
But I thought that you were the one...
I'm just not cut out for detective business.
I'm gonna stick to my press clippings and stop playing Torchy Blane.
- Could I drop you off? - Oh, no, that's all right.
- You go on ahead. I'll walk. - You sure?
- Really. - Okay.
- Call me later! - I will!
Taxi!
Straight ahead.
[Engine turns over]
Hey. Quick... follow that cab.
May I help you?
No, thank you. I'm just looking.
Just add this to our account.
Of course, Madam.
Stop.
You're really left-handed, aren't you?
Write something with your right hand. I dare you!
- I'm sorry, but... - You see?
Just as I thought... you were left-handed all along.
Please... I don't understand.
Hey! Don't push me, buster!
Please... what's the problem here?
Get your hands off me!
Nikolai, stop it.
Disturbing the peace, assault, battery, resisting arrest.
Ellery, she's your friend, not mine.
- I was just trying to help. - She was just trying to help.
The problems I got on this case. I'm losing sleep.
Do you know what time I got up this morning?
Some screwball dame was leaning on the buzzer.
- That was me. - I know it was her.
- Ellery, Ellery, it's all your fault. - My fault?
You should have told me
Mrs. Dobrenskov really is right-handed.
I did... the glove.
Ellery, I'm making it your responsibility...
keep her out of this case.
Look at this shoe... $5.98,
and your father still thinks that I killed Colonel Nivin.
That's the least of our worries. I can always fix the shoe.
Ellery, will you please tell Miss O'Brien
that I do not think she killed Colonel Nivin?
Drove him nuts, yes, but stabbed him, no.
My father does not think you killed Colonel Nivin.
- Inspector, excuse me. - Yeah, Velie?
Maestro, about that Fourchet guy... you asked me to check him out.
Fourchet? Who's Fourchet?
One of the characters in Nivin's book. We went to see him earlier today.
- Huh? On your own? - Well, you were sleeping.
Sleeping? I was not sleeping!
All right, Velie, what do you got
on a suspect I haven't even heard of?
Well, we found the cabby that brought Fourchet and his girlfriend
back from the airport.
And I checked the phone-company records,
and Fourchet did call his girlfriend collect from Boston at 8:43.
Oh, well, that's just wonderful.
Now we don't have to worry about a suspect I haven't even met.
The cabby identified Fourchet's photo?
- Right, Maestro. - What about the girl? Was it Glenda?
I didn't have her picture, but I did find something else.
We ran that Indian guy's fingerprints through Criminal Investigation.
And?
Take a gander at that, Inspector.
Well, well, well.
Ah, good afternoon, Inspector. What an unexpected surprise.
How may I serve you?
You can start by cutting the baloney, Kaleel,
or whatever it is you call yourself.
Sir?
According to this rap sheet, your name is Barney Groves,
and you've got a bunco record as long as my arm.
I knew there was something fishy about you
when you accused me of Colonel Nivin's murder.
Maybe it's about time you started telling us the truth.
This way, please.
Uh, look, l-I wasn't trying to hide anything.
I just didn't want any trouble, you know?
Unless you want more than you can handle,
you better tell us everything.
You're the best suspect we got.
- Were you in Paris during the war? - No. Anzio, Casino.
I even got a silver star, but I never got past Rome, you know?
We'll check that out.
Now, the afternoon of the murder, did you see anything else?
Well, only this Russian dame.
The Colonel sometimes entertains ladies in his rooms.
I mean, it's strictly against the club rules,
but, well, you know, the Colonel slips me a couple of bucks,
and I look the other way.
- So as not to embarrass... - Right.
Anyway, I thought this Russian dame was still with him, you know?
And so I just made myself scarce.
So, you had no way of telling
who was in Nivin's room that afternoon and who wasn't.
Yeah, that's right. Look, give me a break, will you?
I mean, don't turn me into the club committee.
- It's a pretty good job, you know? - All right, all right.
Now, beside the two ladies,
did anyone else visit Colonel Nivin the afternoon of the murder?
- Nobody. Except, uh... - Except who?
Well, the day before, he got a couple of telephone calls...
same guy both times, Limey...
[British accent] Very, very English, you know?
Did you get his name?
No, I asked him twice... no name, no number, but...
Ah, he did say something about antiques,
said the Colonel would know who he was.
- Ellery! - Esterbrook!
- Who? Who? - Somebody in the file, Dad.
Jenny, think hard...
was there anybody that came in the bookstore that afternoon
that talked to Nivin with an English accent?
No.
Yes. Yes, y... yes, there was somebody.
I didn't hear his voice... I was across the room,
but he and the Colonel went off in the corner
and argued very excitedly for a couple of minutes,
and then the man left.
All right, would you remember him if you saw him again?
Oh, yes, he was very distinguished.
Would somebody mind telling me what's going on?
Nothing much, Dad, except that we might have another suspect.
[Music box plays]
- Bach. - Eh?
- Bach. - I thought your name was Smithers.
[Chuckles]
No, I'm Smithers. That's Bach.
Oh. May I...?
Oh, please do, but please be gentle.
[Music box stops playing]
Well, that's very, very nice, but I'm more interested
in where you were yesterday afternoon, around 5:00.
L-I don't understand.
Of course you do. I saw you talking to Colonel Nivin.
We've checked through the Immigration Service,
Mr. Esterbrook.
You're an illegal alien. We can have you deported.
So, let's drop this Smithers business.
Why, you even marked the place in the book
where Nivin was going to expose you.
Inspector, you must understand... I was forced to change my identity.
They would have put me in prison after the war.
As well they should have, broadcasting for the Nazis.
- Oh, that was only a cover. - Cover?
Yes, I working for British Intelligence.
The broadcasts were only a ruse.
I was actually transmitting information
to Great Britain in code.
What a clever idea.
Well, yes, too clever.
Under our security system,
only one man knew of my identity in the code,
an agent in the Intelligence Branch.
Wise, wise precaution.
Yes. That man was killed in the final weeks of the war by a V-2 rocket.
Oh, how awful. So you ran away?
What else could I do?
I came to America. I changed my appearance.
I wanted to start a new life.
Getting back to my question...
where were you last night, about 5:00?
I was in the shop until 6:00.
I spent at least two hours with one of my best customers...
Mrs. Van Doren.
Look... here's a receipt for a Ming vase
she eventually bought.
I would suggest you get in touch with her,
but unfortunately she's gone to the Bahamas
for a couple of weeks.
Oh, the Bahamas, eh?
- A cyanide pill! - Oh, let's have none of that.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
Bicarbonate of soda.
Yep, it's bicarbonate of soda.
Very convenient Esterbrook's alibi is out of town.
Dad, that blonde hair I found on Nivin's couch... was it checked out?
No, Mrs. Dobrenskov admitted she was there.
Well, I wasn't thinking of Mrs. Dobrenskov.
Holy Hannah, look at this!
How awful.
An police inspector's apartment... where will it all end?!
What were they looking for, Colonel Nivin's files?
You're right... Nivin's files. They got Colonel Nivin's files.
Maybe not. Maybe not.
Now, what did you do with the files?
Can you remember what you did with the files, Ellery?
Ellery, how can you think of food at a time like this?
I'm not even gonna ask you
why you put those files in the refrigerator.
While I was cleaning up after dinner, I had the turkey in one hand,
the files in the other, and then the phone rang.
They must have picked the lock, Velie.
Yeah, yeah. And bring your print kit.
Boy, this is really exciting.
Somebody wanted those files pretty bad.
You may find it exciting, Miss O'Brien, but I don't.
Look at this mess.
Well, if whoever did this was Nivin's killer,
that just about eliminates Barney Groves.
Groves? Groves? Why is he a suspect?
Well, he lied about his identity. He certainly had an opportunity.
And he might have had a motive we haven't discovered.
But you're saying Groves didn't do this.
The file drawer that was tampered with
was for the letters "D," "E," "F," and "G."
But under "G," there was no file for Barney Groves.
If there was, he removed it,
and he'd have no reason to come here.
- Ellery? Huh? - Come here.
- What? - Come here!
That's the man in the dress shop.
RICHARD: He's watching our apartment.
This is outrageous.
JENNY: Don't you recognize him, Inspector?
That's the man who followed Sonja Dobrenskov to the dress shop.
I'm gonna find out what he wants.
Now, wait a minute. Wait. Wait. Wait a minute.
I'll call the precinct, have him picked up.
For what, loitering? Let me handle this, Dad, okay?
Ellery, be careful.
Hi.
Look... l-I was wondering why you're watching our apartment
and why you want Nivin's files.
Why don't you come in inside, and we'll talk about it?
Look... there's got to be a logical explanation.
[Vehicle approaching]
Oh, hi, Velie.
Don't move.
Well?
That thug watching my apartment was your people!
Not exactly my people, Inspector. He was an NKVD man.
The Russian secret police.
Believe me... if he is the one who broke into your apartment,
it was without my knowledge.
Mr. Dobrenskov, you had as good a reason as anyone
to want those files.
You mean the files were in your apartment?
Don't pretend you didn't know.
You do not understand. The situation's extremely grave.
You'd better explain, Mr. Dobrenskov.
I trust you have no listening devices in this room.
I beg your pardon? This is America!
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
Permit me to explain.
You know that my wife, Sonja, during the war,
was a friend to that Nazi Frölicher.
It was not her choice. He threatened her family.
It was a terrible ordeal for her.
But my superiors in Russia know nothing of her past.
If they did, it would be extremely dangerous for Sonja.
They would never believe her innocence.
Why didn't you tell us this before?
Learning to trust the police in my country
is not a habit easily acquired, Inspector.
Well, if it'll make you feel any better, sir,
the files weren't found.
There is still hope.
You mean the NKVD doesn't even trust you?
There are so many defections. You are never out of their sight.
Even yesterday, my wife wanted a few hours of freedom to...
to shop, to see the sights of your wonderful city
without being spied upon.
Even today, when I leave this police station,
one of them will be out there waiting for me.
You mean the NKVD is always tailing you?
And that is why neither my wife nor I could have killed Nivin.
It would be insane, with the NKVD following us.
Mr. Dobrenskov, can you establish your whereabouts
at the time of the murder?
I was in my office at Lake Success.
Can you verify that?
I was closeted with a gentleman whose name must remain secret...
extremely sensitive.
In other words, you don't have an alibi.
My own government would rather see me convicted of murder
than permit me to divulge this man's name.
If Dobrenskov is telling the truth, then he's in the clear,
but there's no way of checking because his alibi's a secret.
On the other hand, maybe he's lying.
Ellery, a diplomat not telling the truth?
All right, suppose he is lying. What then?
Then he doesn't have an alibi, secret or otherwise.
Yeah, yeah.
He's just got diplomatic immunity, and I've got a major headache.
Wait till Washington hears about this.
They may even send me to Siberia.
Oh, Dad, they can't blame you for doing your job.
I wonder what the penalty is for starting World War III.
[Telephone rings]
Hello?
Oh, hi, Jenny. I thought we had a lunch date.
What?
Oh.
Well, I'll pick you up wherever you say.
Make it 15, 20 minutes?
Good.
Jenny, something doesn't fit, and I can't figure out what it is.
Well, somebody killed Colonel Nivin.
Ellery, pull over there, quick!
Gee whiz... nylons on sale for $1.09 a pair! I'll be right back!
Something wrong, Officer?
Well, you can't park in front of a fireplug, sir.
Well, I'm not parked. I'm just waiting for a friend.
Oh, yeah, sure, I understand... just for a minute, right?
My friend is inside. Her name is Miss O'Brien.
She's buying a pair of nylons.
They're only $1.09 a pair. That's very reasonable.
A real bargain... $1.09 for the stockings,
2 bucks for the ticket.
Oh, well, easy come, easy go.
Sold out! Would you believe it?
700 pairs of nylons sold out in two hours.
A fine day to you, sir.
700 pairs, all sold out?
700 pairs... sold out.
Have you got it?
If you've been watching very closely,
you may have seen something that I missed until just now.
Who killed Alec Nivin?
Was it Sonja Dobrenskov, her husband, Alexsei,
Fourchet, the photographer, or that antique dealer, Esterbrook?
Or maybe it was somebody else, like Barney Groves,
or that... that character from the NKVD.
No, it was not Jenny,
but I'll give you a clue... somebody's alibi is all wet.
Hi, Dad. 5:00, right on the dot.
- You see? I am improving. - Well, that's good.
Well, everybody's here, as you asked.
What a job.
Do you know how much arm-twisting it takes
to bully that many people into showing up?
Dad, I found out something interesting
about our friend Barney Groves.
Now, a friend of a friend of a friend
who knows someone at Leavenworth...
Well, what about it?
On orders from somewhere in Washington,
Barney Groves' files were removed from prison.
But get this... the friend of the friend...
Of the friend of the friend... I know, yeah.
Says Barney Groves died two years ago.
Died? Well, then somebody's...
Assuming his identity. Right. Well, why?
Let's go in and find out.
Here, hold this, will you?
Thank you all for coming.
Mr. Queen, this is most irregular.
On behalf of my government, I must protest.
What is your authority here?
Yes, which one of us is being charged?
I know my rights. You cannot keep me here.
Please, I think we should listen to what Mr. Queen has to say.
Thank you, Mrs. Dobrenskov.
As you know, this is all unofficial,
but each of you has come under suspicion
for the murder of Colonel Alec Nivin.
But in the next few minutes,
that suspicion will be lifted from all but one of you.
I have nothing to hide.
Couldn't have been me.
Please get on with it. I have an important meeting.
Yes, sir, but first there's one other little mystery I'd like to clear up.
Mr. Groves, perhaps you'd like to start
by telling us who you really are.
I don't know what you are talking about.
I believe the real Barney Groves is dead.
If I have to, I'll bet I can produce a death certificate.
May I speak with you privately, Inspector Queen?
Major George Pearson, OSS.
I was assigned to keep an eye on Colonel Nivin.
The files are stolen government property.
Sorry I couldn't tell you before, Inspector... regulations.
That explains a great deal.
Was it your people who went through my place?
Inspector, would we do a thing like that?
Mr. Queen, we're all waiting. Who did murder Colonel Nivin?
Would you take a seat?
Let's examine the facts.
Mrs. Dobrenskov, you admit you were there,
but you claim he was alive when you left.
You had a motive, Mr. Dobrenskov,
although your alibi is a little bit shaky, to say the least.
The Russian secret police take a deep interest
in their diplomatic personnel,
but an NKVD man
would not impetuously grab a wall souvenir as a murder weapon.
No, he'd come well-prepared.
Mr. Esterbrook, you claim
that you worked for the British Intelligence
during the war with Colonel Nivin.
That's possible.
Mr. Fourchet, you're the only one with the perfect alibi...
you were in Boston during the time of the murder.
Or were you? Dad, may I see that magazine?
This just hit the stands this afternoon.
All right.
Here, on page 47,
is your photo story of the Boston longshoremen strike.
Remember you showed me these photographs
the morning after the murder?
That is correct.
And this picture...
you said you took it the afternoon of the murder?
Yes, I believe it was in the last roll, the ones I showed you.
That can't possibly be true, Mr. Fourchet.
This picture clearly shows the Russian ship Larissa
in the Boston Harbor.
But the Larissa was in New York Harbor that evening
when a Russian crewman defected.
That's right.
It's impossible for the Larissa to be in Boston in the afternoon
and in New York in the evening.
You took that photo the day before.
I... I must have made a mistake.
But that doesn't prove I was in New York.
No, but Colonel Nivin's book does.
I didn't realize it till I took Miss O'Brien to a nylon sale.
But this book was only on sale for one day.
I was in a bookstore when it sold out.
But the next day, when I visited you,
you had a copy of this book
with the Gotham Book Store bookmark in it, just like this.
You could have only purchased this book in New York City
on the day of the murder.
But you know my plane landed at midnight.
Oh, well, now, that almost worked, Mr. Fourchet.
You arrived the morning of the murder,
you read that news item in the Gazette,
and you bought this copy of Nivin's book.
When you saw that he was going to expose you,
you met him, you argued with him,
you grabbed a dagger, and you killed him,
being careful not to leave any prints.
Then, to maintain your alibi,
you went to LaGuardia and caught a plane to Boston.
The 6:36 would be my guess, using a fictitious name.
And when you arrived at 8:20, you called your fiancée collect...
just for the record... to ask her to meet your plane.
You grabbed the 9:20 back to New York,
using your own name.
That's right. The Boston call was at 8:43... between planes.
[Sighs]
He... He laughed at me.
He said no gentleman would betray his comrades,
no matter what the Gestapo did.
I begged him, but he only kept laughing.
Velie, take him away.
The rest of you can go.
Well, Inspector, I'm very glad that's settled.
Mr. Queen, thank you.
I was sure...
That is, my husband and I were sure...
We were afraid the politics of the moment
would be held against us.
Forgive my cynicism. Thank you.
You're very welcome.
We'd like to have those files back, Inspector.
They'll be kept in confidence.
- All right. - Thank you.
Inspector! There are NKVD men on the street.
They must have found out about Sonja.
We are finished.
Mr. Dobrenskov, perhaps I can be of help.
Major George Pearson.
We're aware of your problem in Washington.
I've been empowered, if you should so choose,
to offer you asylum in this country.
Defecting... I dream about it every night.
But they would look for us.
Oh, I'm sure we could arrange a new identity.
Perhaps a modest house in Levittown.
With a little lawn.
And a small car... nothing fancy.
And an automatic washer?
I'm sure it could be arranged.
[Clears throat]
Mr. Dobrenskov.
I understand that you've made contact with a certain gentleman,
a Colonel Abel.
Our people would like to know more about him.
- Ellery? - Hmm?
That was a brilliant deduction.
And just think... I'm the one that gave you the key clue.
That's right, Jenny. You did.
Now, speaking of houses in Levittown...
Uh, Dad, you think you could take care of that for me?
Now, I got that while I was working on the case.
Ellery, you want me to fix a parking ticket?
Pay the $2.