In a few minutes, Norris Wentworth will be dead.
The question is, "Who killed him?"
Was it the rebellious son?
Lucky me.
The long-suffering wife?
He was not a loved man.
The museum curator?
And I don't particularly care for your suggestion.
His ambitious assistant?
He died of a heart attack.
The angry Egyptian?
You have no right!
Or was it someone else?
Match wits with Ellery Queen
and see if you can guess who done it.
[Egyptian music plays]
[Indistinct conversations]
So, Mr. Wentworth, you brought the remains of Amun-Ra to us...
something of a coup, if the the sarcophagus is genuine.
Well, it better be. I shelled out 25 grand for it.
After 20 years of watching unwary lambs get fleeced,
I can assure you money and authenticity
are not always same.
Where is that fool Tremaine?
Oh, easy, darling. It's only a few minutes after 7:00.
Where on Earth did you find it, Wentworth?
Monastery in the Black Forest.
You know, the Krauts were trying to hide it from the Russkies
just before V-E Day.
[Laughter]
I should say Amun-Ra brought his German owners
no more good fortune than his previous owners.
Excuse me, please.
Good evening.
Good evening, Lois, Bud.
- Dad, I wanted... - Now, where have you been?
We got stuck in traffic.
Look, Dad, there's this swell party going on
over at George Wexler's place...
This is one of the most important nights of my life, Bud.
Now, at least do me the courtesy of waiting for the unveiling.
It means a lot to your father, Bud.
We should be out of here by 8:00.
I don't ask much of you, Bud.
Just a little respect, a little word of thanks once in awhile...
for the car, for the clothes, for the doling out of the money.
Yeah.
Thanks, Dad.
Oh, Norris.
Tremaine, you're late.
Yes, I know. I'm sorry.
I was on a call to a buyer in Mexico City.
What about? Some two-bit piece of Mayan crockery
when we've got the treasure of the century waiting to be unveiled?
Norris, we're most grateful...
Save the gratitude, Tremaine.
The party's getting dull, and people are getting drunk,
and I'm losing my patience.
Now, let's get on with it. Shall we?
Yes, of course.
Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please.
Thank you very much.
As you know, we are gathered here to put on public display
one of the world's most treasured relics,
priceless antiquity,
tracked down and brought to this museum
by our great friend and benefactor, Mr. Norris Wentworth.
[Applause]
My friends, I present to you
the sarcophagus of Pharaoh Amun-Ra.
Don't! You have no right!
Dr. Haddid, please.
Those are the remains of my king, the king of my people,
stolen from his sacred burial place.
Can he have no peace?
Look, friend, I'm no grave robber.
But you perpetuate the indecency,
you and all those like you, with your money.
This is not a curiosity! This is a king!
Tremaine, get him out of here.
- Mr. Wentworth... - I said, get him out of here!
Guard, take him away.
Do not defile the sarcophagus.
Remember the promise that has followed Amun-Ra
all through the ages.
You think I'm afraid of your lousy curse?
[Creeks open]
Six men have died before you, Mr. Wentworth,
six who defied the power of Amun-Ra.
If there is any justice, you will be the seventh!
Keep your fingers crossed, Mom.
Maybe there really is a curse.
[Crickets chirping]
- Good evening, sir. - Good evening, Gilbert.
Whose car is that out there?
- A Mr. Brimmer, sir. - Oh.
He told me he was expected.
It is all right, sir?
Oh, yes, yes... Simon Brimmer. Thank you very much, Gilbert.
We won't need you the rest of the evening.
And Mrs. Wentworth, sir?
Well, she drove her own car. She'll be along shortly.
Very good, sir.
Oh, sorry to keep you waiting, Brimmer.
- Can I fix you a little snort? - Nothing, thanks.
I'll fix me one.
Oh, boy.
Totally against doctor's orders,
but after that business with the Egyptian,
I need this.
Oh? Trouble at the museum?
Well, not trouble, really, but this idiot in a fez...
some kind of historian from Alexandria...
he put the curse of Amun-Ra on me.
Ah, interesting coincidence,
considering the purpose of our meeting.
Oh, yeah! Your radio show.
- Have a seat. - Thank you.
You know, it seems to me that mummies are a...
a little out of your line, aren't they, Brimmer?
Well, mysteries like the curse of Amun-Ra are ageless, sir.
I'm developing a series of six shows,
each dealing with the mysterious death
of one of the six previous owners of the Amun-Ra sarcophagus.
Oh, I get it... murder and mystery through the centuries, right?
Precisely.
Death at the hands of a dead Egyptian Pharaoh...
coincidence or curse?
A fascinating premise.
Well, I guess some people believe in that kind of stuff.
More than you might suspect, sir.
Therefore, if I may be assured of your cooperation...
Oh, sure, sure. Glad to.
As long as I don't come off looking like a grave robber.
[Telephone rings]
Excuse me.
Hello?
Yes.
What?
Yes, I understand.
I could be there in 20 minutes.
Yes.
Something very important has come up, Brimmer.
I'm sorry. I hate to run like this.
I understand.
Say, listen, why don't you have your people contact the museum?
The curator there, Tremaine... he's not too sharp,
but I think he can handle this thing.
- Most kind of you, Mr. Wentworth. - It's all right.
I'll be calling you tomorrow.
Right. That'll be fine.
[Engine turns over]
[Clock ticking]
The man in the raincoat slipped unobserved through the doorway
and found himself...
He... he found himself in the...
In the closet?
In the basement.
It was dark and dank,
and he felt the crunch of coal dust beneath his feet.
- That's very good. - What?
The coal dust on his shoes. That's a good clue.
It's not a clue.
- Oh. How's your finger? Still hurt? - Just a little, yeah.
I'm no good with can openers, either.
Oh, is that right? Oh, I didn't know that.
I'm sorry, Miss... I've forgotten your name.
Margie. Margie Coopersmith, with a "C."
Right. Where were we?
In the cellar with the coal dust.
"He felt the crunch of coal dust beneath his feet."
Suddenly, he heard a sound,
and he whirled as the door flew open.
- Ellery. - Hi, Dad.
How long are you and Miss, uh...
Coopersmith, with a "C."
...Miss Coopersmith with a "C"
going to be prowling around down here?
I'm sorry to keep you up, Dad,
but I got to finish this book by Friday,
and I've got about 40 pages to finish,
and I've got this rotten finger.
- Maybe we could go to the Automat. - I can't write in an automat.
[Telephone rings]
My English teacher said a good writer could write anywhere.
- Yeah? - He never wrote in an automat.
Hold it, Velie. Slow down.
Jack London used to write on a fishing boat.
- What? - But that was quiet.
All right, you get there. I'll be down as soon as I can.
It's never quiet in an automat, never.
You can go ahead with your book, son.
It doesn't look like I'll get much sleep tonight.
- Okay, Dad. - Absolutely incredible.
The door flew open...
What's incredible?
I don't want to interfere with your dictation, son.
Come on, Dad. What's incredible?
[Exhales] You'll just want to tag along.
Dad!
It's the curse of the Pharaoh Amun-Ra, son.
The old boy has just claimed his seventh victim.
[Thump on wall]
That's right, sir.
I found him about 10:30 when I was making my rounds,
like I do every hour.
How'd he get in?
He let himself in, I guess.
Well, Mr. Tremaine gave him a special gold key,
a sort of a thank-you present
for that thing he brought to the museum.
- Well, nothing's missing. - You sure of that, Dr. Tremaine?
Positive, Inspector.
We have an emerald necklace on open display in the next wing...
absolutely priceless.
It wasn't even touched.
I'm gonna take a look down the parking garage, Inspector.
Okay, Velie. Thank you, Harry.
Um...
Look, Inspector, Norris Wentworth came back into this museum
after it had been locked to view his treasure.
I don't know his motive.
The point is he was not stabbed. He was not shot.
He was not beaten.
There wasn't a mark on him of any kind.
That may well be,
but until the autopsy confirms the cause of death,
we're assuming nothing.
- Guard? - Yes, sir?
I found these in Mr. Wentworth's pocket.
Can you tell me which one fits the outer door?
Yes, sir, this one here. The long gold one in the middle.
I see. Thank you.
[Rattling]
- Um, excuse me, Dr. Tremaine. - Yes?
Do you know if Mr. Wentworth had some sort of a heart problem?
Well, not that I know of. Why?
Dad, I found a couple of things in his overcoat pocket.
A bottle of pills... I believe they're nitroglycerin tablets...
and a key ring.
Do you think we might get a photo?
Baldwin.
Inspector? Inspector!
There's something fishy downstairs.
Maybe it means something, and maybe not,
but Mr. Wentworth's car... somebody broke into it.
The window on the driver's side... busted in, Inspector.
Wonder if anything's missing.
Maybe there's something in the glove compartment.
Well, that's an expensive bauble to be carrying around.
What is it, Ellery? A clue?
I don't know.
November 28, 1946... only a couple months old.
Must be worth a lot, too.
Look! There's a diamond missing right there in the middle. See?
MARGIE: I wonder what that means.
Look, Ellery, I know it looks screwy,
but as far as we know, it's a simple heart attack.
That's all.
What about the broken window?
Oh, it could have happened days ago.
Come on, Velie.
Dad, why carry around a valuable bracelet
when you can't lock it in your car?
All right, all right.
A sneak thief breaks in, just misses the bracelet.
That's all.
- Oh, Dad. - Oh, Ellery.
Why does it always have to be murder?
The maestro's got that look, Inspector.
Must be something he wrote.
Somebody's got to tell Mrs. Wentworth.
Dad, do you mind if we tag along? We can go in my car.
I thought you had a book to write.
Well, I do,
but I can dictate a few pages to Margie on the way over.
Then I'll ride along with Velie.
The thought of you dictating a book while you drive a car
boggles the imagination.
"He's been handcuffed to the furnace."
Uh-huh...
The man in the raincoat. He's been handcuffed to the furnace.
Norris? Dead?
[Sobbing] Oh, no!
I'm sorry, Mrs. Wentworth.
That... that m-mummy.
It meant so much to him to be a part of things again.
To... to be accepted.
Mrs. Wentworth, I found a bottle of nitroglycerin pills
in his overcoat pocket.
- He did have a heart condition? - Oh, yes.
Yes, he'd... he'd suffered a mild attack about a year ago,
and he'd been under care for it ever since.
But you seem to imply
that there was something strange about Norris' death.
Well, surely you don't believe that nonsense about the curse?
Just routine, Mrs. Wentworth, but you have a son, Norris Jr?
Yes. Bud.
He's... he's out somewhere now, at a party.
And you got home at, uh...?
Around 9:30.
Of course, I was surprised to find that Norris wasn't here.
Whoops.
I'm very sorry. I'm afraid I broke this.
Oh, that's all right, Mr. Queen. Don't worry about it.
This is a PDV-100, isn't it?
Yes.
I'm very stupid not to have made the connection right away.
Your husband was the Norris Wentworth,
the aircraft manufacturer.
That was a very long time ago.
As I recall, he was investigated by a select Senate committee...
- Ellery. - Yeah?
You recall very well, Mr. Queen.
My husband was investigated
on the libelist accusation of war profiteering,
of manufacturing faulty aircraft, but he was cleared.
He was absolutely cleared of all charges.
No offense intended, Ma'am.
Ellery, what's your point?
Only this, Dad...
if there was foul play, there might be a motive here.
Aside from finding poison in Mr. Wentworth's system,
we're not dealing with murder here.
Maybe so, Dad.
- Here, Mr. Queen. May I take that? - Thank you.
Let me very honest with you about my husband, Mr. Queen.
He was not a loved man, not by anyone.
Not even by me.
No one's going to mourn him.
In fact, there may even be a few
who will cheer a little under their breath.
So, if it does turn out to be murder,
I think you'll find you'll have more suspects
than you'll know what to do with.
All right, son, I'll see you at home.
And it's past your bedtime.
Is it really past your bedtime?
Oh, he's been trying to get me to go to bed at 10:00
since I was 14 years old.
Ellery, did you notice about Mrs. Wentworth?
- Yeah, her makeup. - Right.
She said she got home at 9:30,
but if you ask me, she didn't get to this house much before we did.
You know something, Margie Coopersmith, with a "C"?
You're absolutely right.
- Morning, Mr. Brimmer. - Good morning.
Here are the rewrites of this week's broadcast.
The writers stayed up all night, sir, and they did a bang-up job.
- Forget that script. - Sir?
I said, forget the rewrites. I may be onto something.
But we've hired the actors. Rehearsal's scheduled for 10:00.
Cancel the rehearsal, fire the actors, and put the writers on standby.
Norris Wentworth is dead.
Amun-Ra has presumably struck again.
Well, didn't the police call it a heart attack?
Heart attack?
Who wants to listen to a broadcast about a heart attack?
- Well, Inspector Queen... - Never mind Inspector Queen.
One way or another, I'll prove that Wentworth was murdered,
despite the inspector and his celebrated son.
Nobody's capitalizing on my curse except me.
- It's murder. - It was a heart attack.
It was murder.
Here's the coroner's report... no poison, nothing.
It was a heart attack, nothing more.
Maybe it was a heart attack, but it was murder, just the same.
I talked to the family doctor this morning.
So did we.
And he gave those nitroglycerin tablets to Mr. Wentworth himself...
We checked that.
...with specific instructions to carry them in his right pocket.
- What? - Ha ha.
When a man has a massive coronary, it usually cripples his left arm.
So, a guy carrying nitro pills carries them in his right pocket.
But when I searched the overcoat, they were in his left pocket.
Wentworth made a mistake.
Well, if he did, it was a fatal mistake.
I have no time to waste on a case that's closed!
What about the broken car window?
How about the bracelet with the missing diamond?
What about the egg stains on your shirt?
If a big butter-and-egg man gets knocked off,
I'm supposed to arrest you?
Dad, don't close the door on this one too quickly.
Oh, speaking of closing the doors,
would you mind doing it quietly on your way out?
All right, all right, I'll go home and try to finish my book.
I'll try... if I can concentrate.
Yes, the little lady is quite fetching.
No, I didn't mean that! That's not fair... really.
- Queen. - Simon.
And a good morning to you, Inspector.
Brimmer, how long have you been outside that door?
Really, Inspector, I haven't yet been reduced to eavesdropping.
Where's my secretary?!
Oh, I asked her to bring me an aspirin.
I have this headache.
You were listening!
I thought we might have lunch, Queen.
I have a reservation at the Savoy-Plaza for 12:30.
Oh, well, I don't know. I...
Oh, of course you would.
Emile is just back from Marseilles with some new recipes,
and besides, I thought I might fill you in a little
on the curse of Amun-Ra.
My treat, of course.
Aha. Okay.
I'll have a Quiche Lorraine,
and for Mr. Queen, the quenelle of pike...
and a Chablis... something dry, but provocative.
Very good, Mr. Brimmer.
So, it appears that the spirit of Amun-Ra
has once more made itself felt.
Oh, the curse? Oh, I don't know.
Please. I wouldn't suggest for a moment
that the so-called curse caused Mr. Norris Wentworth's death.
I quite agree that it's murder.
This business of the pills being in the wrong pocket
is very persuasive.
You were listening.
Oh, I may have picked up a chance phrase, a random remark.
But the point is, for once, you and I seem to be in agreement.
That's why I arranged this luncheon.
I thought that we might work together.
What's your angle, Simon?
I suppose I ought to be insulted
by the way you leap to that conclusion, but, no.
I've developed six shows involving the deaths
of the six previous owners of the sarcophagus.
Obviously, I will develop a seventh show,
involving the death of Norris Wentworth.
And what a coup it would be if I...
we could prove it was murder and who did it.
A bit impudent, but a lively bouquet.
Well, we could give it a try.
Now, wait a minute, Simon.
You set up this lunch before you knew
the nitro pills were found in the wrong pocket.
What makes you so sure it was a murder?
Well deduced, my friend.
I bring to this table my own small contribution.
I was with Mr. Wentworth last night when he received a phone call
which prompted him to quickly leave his house...
for the museum, I presume.
Have you got any idea who made that call?
No, but I can tell you this...
when he left, the window of his car was very much intact.
For whatever reason it was broken,
I can tell you it was definitely broken at the museum.
Mrs. Langston was the last to be seated.
She cradled the Siamese cat in her arms,
caressing it gently, as the cat's eyes danced...
no, make that "played" around the room, missing nothing.
As they awaited the re-appearance of the inspector...
Am I going too fast?
"Re-appearance of the inspector"... okay.
Where's the inspector... in the next room with a dog?
Yes. How did you know that?
You used that in "The Adventure of the Golden Gargoyle."
- I did? - Sure.
The inspector sends the dog into the room,
and the cat doesn't even move.
Don't you remember?
Yes, I do.
Queen, our quarry, I believe.
Margie, you type up what you got, and we'll get the rest tonight.
Okay. And if I can think of anything
besides the trick with the dog and the cat,
I'll let you know.
You do that, and it's dinner at the Stork on me.
Norris Wentworth Jr.
I'm Bud Wentworth.
Simon Brimmer, sir.
May I extend my sympathies on the loss of your father?
Yeah. Thanks a lot.
And this is Ellery Queen.
- Hi. - Hi.
Look, Mr. Brimmer...
Mr. Queen and I are cooperating in a quasi-official investigation
into your father's death.
Investigation? He died of a heart attack.
So he did, but there may be more to it than that.
Look... I don't know what you two are talking about.
All I know is last night I did a little bit too much partying.
I didn't get much sleep, so please...
Any particular party?
Well, we started at George Wexler's, right after we left the museum,
but it was pretty dull.
So, we drove around, hit a couple bars.
You said "we."
Lois Gordon. I just met her a few weeks ago.
She's Tremaine's assistant...
not a bad-Iooker for an archaeologist.
ELLERY: And Lois Gordon...
was she with you the entire time after you left the museum?
That's right.
You act as if I need an alibi or something.
All right. So me and the old man didn't get along.
He's had enough dough to float Fort Knox, but I never saw any of it.
Well, that shouldn't be a problem for you any longer.
What?
Well, now that he's dead,
I presume you'll inherit quite a bit of his estate.
Lucky me.
And lucky Mom, too.
In fact, lucky everybody.
[Sighs]
Well, Queen, we'd better get over to that museum.
Yes, there's somebody we ought to talk to.
- Lois Gordon. - Otis Tremaine.
According to the terms of our agreement,
delivery was to have been made no later than...
than...
Look that date up yourself, would you, Miss Chauncey, please,
and fill it in for me.
Yes?
My apologies, Dr. Tremaine. There was no one at the desk.
Yes?
Simon Brimmer, sir.
I conduct a modestly successful radio program
dealing with murder... modern and otherwise.
Ah.
At the moment, I'm interested in the mysterious death
of your patron, Mr. Wentworth.
There's nothing mysterious about it.
Claudia... Mrs. Wentworth, that is...
was informed the death was due to a heart attack.
We are taking nothing for granted, Dr. Tremaine.
"We"?
Mr. Queen and I in tandem
are conducting a little investigation into Mr. Wentworth's death.
I see.
Well, in the face of what she was told,
wouldn't any other assumption seem absurd?
Just one small question, sir.
Was the museum or were you personally mentioned
in Mr. Wentworth's will?
The answer to that, Mr. Brimmer, is no.
And I don't particularly care for your suggestion.
I suggest nothing, sir, but the fact is Wentworth is dead,
and there is a great deal to that.
Bud and I were together the whole time, just as he told you.
And after the Wexler party, you drove around...
just the two of you?
That's right. What's your point, Mr. Queen?
Well, I'm trying to figure out in my own mind
where everybody was after the museum was closed
and before Mr. Wentworth's body was found.
What's the difference?
Well, maybe none, unless he was killed.
You didn't call him, by any chance, at his home, say around 9:30?
No, I didn't,
and I'm getting a little annoyed with the insinuation.
Unlike your books, Mr. Queen, everything needn't be a murder.
He died of a heart attack.
Perhaps he did.
How long have you known Bud Wentworth?
We met in December, just before Christmas...
a celebration at the Wentworth home.
Excuse me, Miss Gordon.
Cleaning lady found this in the restroom.
I guess somebody forgot it.
- Mm. No identification in here. - No, Ma'am.
Drop it in my office, Harry.
They'll probably come back for it later.
Yes, Ma'am.
Harry, don't you ever take any time off?
Well, the day man called in sick, Ma'am, but it's all right.
Living alone now like I do, it doesn't make any difference.
This celebration around Christmas...
I guess it was over the sarcophagus.
What else?
Believe me, a lot of work went into the acquisition.
It wasn't quite as easy as Norris Wentworth made it sound.
Oh, then you were in Europe with him?
Of course.
Someone had to authenticate it,
and I hold a PhD in ancient Middle Eastern Cultures.
Miss Gordon, the day the mummy was acquired...
that wasn't by any chance November 28th of last year, was it?
- As a matter of fact, it was. - It was.
But how did you know?
There... I told you something was burning.
No, no, no, right in front of you... the potholder.
Oh, this smells good and strong, Dad.
You're probably half-right.
Well, we can forget about the bracelet as a clue.
Wentworth gave it to Lois Gordon as kind of a thank-you gift
for acquiring the Amun-Ra sarcophagus.
A couple of days ago, one of the diamonds fell out,
and he was returning it to the jeweler to be replaced.
So, after all that, it doesn't mean a thing.
Oh, I didn't say that, Dad.
We know for sure that Wentworth's car
was broken into at the museum.
We also know it wasn't a thief
because the bracelet was left behind.
But why was the window smashed?
Somebody tried to steal it. They were frightened away.
By whom?
The bald-headed midget!
Ellery, it's wonderful, and I figured it out.
The midget, of course. It had to be.
The midget?
The midget was the only one small enough
to crawl through the transom.
Well, actually, Margie, it wasn't the midget.
It wasn't?
No, the midget was in the Turkish bath the night of the murder.
- Remember? - Oh, that's right.
Well, if it wasn't the midget
and it wasn't the man in the raincoat...
Who said it wasn't the man in the raincoat?
Ellery, where are the tea bags?
Well, it can't be.
On page 27, you specifically have the man in the raincoat
opening the letter from Dr. Vorschack with his left hand,
and the murderer is right-handed.
What? Where does it say that?
I told you, on page 27.
Well, if that's true, then we have to change the clue on page 60.
- Ellery. - Hmm?
The tea bags... you know, the bags with tea in them,
with little tags attached?
Oh, they're in the cupboard, Dad.
Margie, we've got an awful lot of work to do tonight.
[Telephone rings]
Hello?
Yes, Sergeant Velie, just a second, please.
Dad?
Yeah, Velie?
What?!
Oh, I don't have to talk to them.
All right. All right, we'll be right down.
- Ellery, get your coat. - Oh, Dad, I can't.
I got to finish my book. You know that.
Oh, no, you don't.
You're the one who thought Wentworth was murdered.
It's your problem.
Mrs. Wentworth and Dr. Tremaine are waiting in my office.
They want to make a statement.
Let me get right to the point, Inspector.
Norris Wentworth was not an easy man to deal with.
Or to live with.
Some months ago, I met Mrs. Wentworth,
and we very soon realized
how much we enjoyed each other's company.
Very soon after that...
We began seeing each other.
Well, you can call it an affair if you like,
but to me, it's been much more than that.
And to me, my darling.
Then you were together the night your husband died.
Yes. I barely arrived home
before you and the Inspector were at our door.
But she was with me every second. I'll swear to it.
That's not necessary, Dr. Tremaine.
I was afraid you'd discover the truth, Mr. Queen,
and we wanted to come forward first.
Otis and I are not ashamed.
Now, with your permission, Inspector, may I take Mrs. Wentworth home?
- Of course. - Thank you.
- Thank you, Inspector. - Bye-bye.
Very strange, isn't it?
Strange in what way?
Lois Gordon and Bud Wentworth alibi each other.
Claudia Wentworth and Dr. Tremaine alibi each other.
But if they're lying for each other, then nobody has an alibi.
Norris Wentworth died of natural causes.
Nothing will convince me otherwise.
Hold it!
And your name is...?
Mustafa Haddid.
I am known to Dr. Tremaine.
Yes, that's true.
I can assure you, Inspector, that if Dr. Haddid was in the museum,
he had a very valid reason.
Certainly not to destroy the mummy of Pharaoh Amun-Ra.
I'm sorry, my friend, but you're wrong.
I would have burned it, yes.
Better for it to be consumed by fire
than to be put on display like some sideshow curiosity.
Excuse me. How did you get in?
There was no sign of forced entry.
Well, I entered just before closing.
I hid in some basement storage room
until I was sure the building was empty.
Except for the guard here.
And that's what you did that night, the night Norris Wentworth died?
Believe me... I had nothing to do with his death.
I can vouch for that, Inspector.
On the night of Mr. Wentworth's death,
I made a very thorough search
of every room on my first check-through,
to be sure that no one was staying around.
Now, there was no one hiding in the museum. I'm sure of it.
My good friend, I...
There is nothing to say,
as long as men like Norris Wentworth
rape and pillage my country,
stealing its treasures, desecrating its temples,
and men like you encourage him.
Well, what are we gonna do about this?
I got a lot of charges here.
Now, please, Inspector. I couldn't even think of it.
Dr. Haddid happens to be right.
Someday, there will be laws prohibiting just this sort of thing,
not only in your country... in all countries.
Well, if you're not gonna press charges...
I'm sorry.
...there's nothing I can do about it.
Come on, son, unless you still want
to hang a murder charge on somebody.
No, not tonight, Dad. I still got a book to finish by noon.
Oh, it's gonna be one of those nights, is it?
Well, I'll stop by the drugstore and get some sleeping pills.
I don't think you should be looking at those.
Oh, of course, of course.
I'm sure he'll be back soon.
If I knew where he could be reached, I'd...
That's quite all right.
It's marvelous how Ellery manages to keep turning these out
and still maintain a certain degree of readability.
Ellery told me his new assistant was bright,
but he failed to tell me you're beautiful, as well, my dear.
Oh, why, thank you.
Your name... is it Deidre? You seem so much a Deidre.
Margie Coopersmith, with a "C."
Margie.
I don't suppose Ellery mentioned where he was off to, Margie?
- No, he didn't say. - Characteristic.
As you know, Ellery and I are collaborating
on this latest adventure, as he calls it.
Are you? That's exciting.
I just love your radio show, Mr. Brimmer.
How kind of you.
It's so difficult to maintain quality without the help of good people.
Oh, yes, sir.
I do wish I could find someone to assist me
in the preparation of my broadcasts...
someone like yourself, Margie.
But of course I realize
you're probably contractually bound to Ellery.
Oh, no, no, I'm just typing for him because of his finger.
A disgraceful waste of your talents.
Once you finish this assignment, we must have lunch.
Oh, I'd like that very much.
Meanwhile, I'm sure there are probably developments in the case
that Ellery has forgotten to mention to me.
Perhaps you could fill me in on his progress until he gets here.
Mr. Brimmer, are you trying to pump me?
- Not at all. - Sure sounds like it.
Well, I just thought if he kept you up-to-date,
or perhaps something you yourself had observed at the museum...
I understand you were there.
Oh, sure, but I wouldn't go in, not with that mummy.
Those things scare me to death.
No, sir, that night I wouldn't go in there for anything.
Those things what?
I said they scare me to death.
Well, let me get out of your way.
If Ellery returns, no need to tell him I was here.
- Simon. - Queen.
- Inspector. - Brimmer.
I'm gonna make some cocoa. Want some?
- No, thanks. - Sorry. I can't wait.
- Well, I was gonna fill you in... - No need.
We can compare notes tomorrow.
[Dialing]
[Telephone ringing]
Hello? Yes?
Dr. Haddid, my name is Simon Brimmer.
- You may have heard of me. - No.
I have some information regarding the sarcophagus of Amun-Ra.
I think it would be to your advantage to meet me for lunch.
Shall we say 21 at 12:00 noon?
Well, I guess it'd be okay, you being a friend of his and all.
Just a little surprise for an old comrade.
- Thanks so much. - Thank you.
[Sniffs]
"It had to have been you, Geoffrey Langston.
Only you had access to the aquarium.
Only you knew the knife was buried in the sand
beneath the green conch shell."
That's good.
- That's redundant. - That's what?
Redundant... all conches are shells.
- "Green conch" is all you need. - Okay.
Did you see that guy?
Did you see the way he came out of that driveway?
That wasn't a driveway. It was a street.
Pretty narrow street, if you ask me.
Wide enough for a traffic light.
Traffic light? Are you sure?
Careful!
There's your publisher... next block.
Just in time... 10 minutes before they close.
Margie, where are the pages?
I thought you were going to bring them in.
Oh.
The car's locked.
Well, unlock it.
Oh, yeah.
I locked my keys in the car. Now what?
Well, if you want your book to be on time,
you better break one of the windows.
Right.
Break... the window.
That's it.
Wentworth's broken car window at the museum...
now I know what it means.
I may be wrong, but I think I know how Norris Wentworth was killed
and why and who did it.
Remember the autopsy definitely established it was a heart attack.
But was someone responsible for that heart attack?
I think so, and it all has to do with the broken window
in Wentworth's car outside the museum
and the key ring in his pocket.
Let's see if we come up with the same answer.
Ellery, let's get started.
Well, I was hoping Simon would be here by now.
Well, it's obvious. He isn't taking any of your calls.
If he was going to be here, he would have arrived already.
Okay, Dad, let's go.
Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated.
Thank you. Anywhere will do.
Now, first let me remind you that you are here
of your own free will, at my son's invitation.
Officially, this gathering is not sanctioned
by the police department or the district attorney's office,
both of which are satisfied
that Norris Wentworth's death was accidental.
We understand. Let's get on with it.
Ellery?
Yes, certainly.
Mrs. Wentworth, on the night of his death,
your husband received a phone call from someone.
We don't know who,
but the caller's intent was to lure him to the museum,
into this wing.
Now, Simon Brimmer and I have been operating on the theory
that your husband was murdered because of the pills
and because of the smashed car window.
But now I realize that the window was smashed
by Mr. Wentworth himself,
just as I smashed my own car window this afternoon
when I inadvertently locked my keys in the ignition.
- What are you getting at? - Bear with me.
The window was smashed by Mr. Wentworth.
He retrieved his keys,
but he never used his key to get in the museum.
What?
But he had his keys. You found them in his pocket.
Yes, he had them, but he never used them.
Dad?
This is a set of keys
similar to the ones carried by Norris Wentworth...
a plain key ring with seven keys on it.
Now, let's assume, just for a moment, that this key... the long one...
is the key to the museum door.
Oh, a local hardware store
was kind enough to lend us this to demonstrate.
Now, I place the key in the lock, turn it,
open the door, and extract the key.
Now, watch what happens. The key falls to the outside.
No matter how I hold them, no matter how many times I try,
the key falls either to the left or to the right,
but always to the outside.
But in these photos taken of Norris Wentworth's keys
as I removed them from his overcoat,
the museum-door key is in the middle.
That's impossible if he had just used it.
Norris Wentworth never used his key to the museum door.
He was let in by someone.
He was let in by the only person who, by his own admission,
was in the museum that night.
Harry?
That's right, Mr. Queen.
It was me that called him, me that let him in.
Damn fool had locked the keys in his car
and broke open the window himself.
I was waiting by the open door when he walked up.
How? Why?
I'm not going to say I'm sorry, Ma'am.
He deserved to die.
That night, when I realized who he was,
what he'd done to those boys overseas...
putting together planes that wouldn't fly...
I saw a gold-star flag in your office, Harry.
Was that your son?
That's right, Mr. Queen.
Billy flew a fighter plane over Hamburg,
one of those PDV-100s.
He flew it once, just once.
He never flew back.
Well, Wentworth killed my boy. I was gonna kill him.
I took out my gun, and I pointed it at him.
He started begging me not to shoot...
such a pathetic sight, whimpering and crying.
I guess all the hate ran out of me
'cause I turned around and started to holster my gun
when I heard him gasp and fall to the ground.
I bent down beside him,
and he was starting to say something about pills.
Well, I found them in his coat pocket.
By the time I got back, he was gone.
I figured it was divine Providence that done it to him,
so why should I pay?
So, I put the pills back in the pocket,
pretended like I didn't know he was there until I found him dead.
But you put the pills back in the wrong pocket.
I didn't know it.
I guess I didn't think about...
Look... I'm willing to take what's coming to me,
even if you call it murder.
But I'm not sorry he's dead.
That man deserved to die.
[Crying]
Velie.
[Telephone rings]
Oh, the poor man. Can't we do something for him?
That'll be up to the courts to decide, Mrs. Wentworth.
- Ellery, for you. - Thank you.
- Simon? - Queen.
Just thought you'd like to know that I've cracked the Wentworth case.
Strange as it seems,
I believe Wentworth was literally frightened to death.
Ah, you're absolutely right.
I have the press arriving in a few minutes.
I'm sure you can't make it over here by then,
but I'll be sure to mention your name, at least in passing.
Well, that's fine, but actually l...
No doubt, the Egyptian will make a full confession
when confronted with the facts.
The Egyptian?
That' right... the Egyptian, Dr. Haddid.
At my request, a noted archaeologist
analyzed some threads on Haddid's jacket.
They're over 2,000 years old.
I assumed as much by the musty odor I noticed at once.
There's no question that Haddid took the mummy out of the case
in order to frighten Wentworth
into believing that the curse was coming true.
And, of course, Wentworth was a heart patient...
Simon, hold on.
Haddid was caught trying to sneak into the museum last night.
He tried to destroy the mummy. That's where the threads came from.
What? Why wasn't I told of this?
Oh, I tried to tell you last night,
but you were in such a hurry to leave.
Nonetheless, Queen, I'm still convinced Haddid was responsible,
and it's only a matter of time before...
Hmm?
The guard?
Confessed, huh?
Well, of course I was getting to that...
an alternative theory I hadn't quite...
Yes.
Yes, well, we must discuss it over lunch someday.
Good-bye.
[Buzz]
What?
WOMAN: The reporters are waiting in your office, Mr. Brimmer.
Tell them I am indisposed.