QED by Ellery Queen Page B

about Helen McDoud’s seven-dollar gift fund than he had ever thought about anything in his life.
    And as he thought …
    At 9:32 he was intently examining the rectangles of paper the thief had put into the substitute envelope. The paper was ordinary cheap newsprint, scissored to dollar-bill size out of a colored comics section. He shuffled through the dummy dollars one by one, hunting for something. Anything!
    The forty-one boys and girls were buzzing and giggling now.
    Ellery pounced. Clinging to one of the rectangles was a needle-thin sliver of paper about an inch long, a sort of paper shaving. He fingered it, held it up to the light. It was not newsprint. Too full-bodied, too tough-textured …
    Then he knew what it must be.
    Less than two minutes left .
    Feverishly he went through the remaining dollar-sized strips of comic paper.
    And there it was. There it was!
    This strip had been cut from the top of the comic sheet. On the margin appeared the name of a New York newspaper and the date April 24, 1955 .
    Think it over. Take your time. Lots of seconds in a minute .
    The buzzing and giggling had died. Louise Carpenter was on her feet, looking at him imploringly.
    A bell began clanging in the corridor.
    First period over.
    9:35.
    Ellery rose and said solemnly, “The case is solved.”
    With the room cleared and the door locked, the three boys stood backed against the blackboard as if facing a firing squad. The bloom was gone from David Strager’s cheeks. The blood vessel in Joey Buell’s temple was trying to wriggle into his red hair. And Howard Ruffo’s eyes were liquid with panic.
    It’s hard to be fifteen years old and trapped .
    But harder not to be .
    â€œWha’d I do?” whimpered Howard Ruffo. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
    â€œWe didn’t take Miss Carpenter’s seven dollars,” said David Strager, stiff-lipped.
    â€œCan you say the same about Mr. Mueller’s baked goods last Monday night, Dave?” Ellery paused gently. “Or any of the other things you boys have been making love to in the past two months?”
    He thought they were going to faint.
    â€œBut this morning’s little job,” Ellery turned suddenly to the red-haired boy, “you pulled by yourself, Joey.”
    The thin body quivered. “Who, me?”
    â€œYes, Joey, you.”
    â€œYou got rocks in your skull,” Joey whispered. “Not me!”
    â€œI’ll prove it, Joey. Hand me the dollar bill I found in your jeans when I searched you.”
    â€œThat’s my dollar!”
    â€œI know it, Joey. I’ll give you another for it. Hand it over … Miss Carpenter.”
    â€œYes, Mr. Queen!”
    â€œTo cut these strips of newspaper to the same size as dollar bills, the thief must have used a real bill as a pattern. If he cut too close, the scissors would shave off a sliver of the bill.” Ellery handed her Joey’s dollar. “See if this bill shows a slight indentation along one edge.”
    â€œIt does!”
    â€œAnd I found this sliver clinging to one of the dummies. Fit the sliver to the indented edge of Joey’s bill. If Joey is guilty, it should fit exactly. Does it?”
    Louise looked at the boy. “Joey, it does fit.”
    David and Howard were gaping at Ellery.
    â€œWhat a break,” Joey choked.
    â€œCriminals make their own bad breaks, Joey. The thing inside you that told you you were doing wrong made your hand shake as you cut. But even if your hand hadn’t slipped, I’d have known you were the one who substituted the strips of paper for the money.”
    â€œHow? How could you?” It was a cry of bewilderment.
    Ellery showed him the rectangular strip with the white margin. “See this, Joey? Here’s the name of the newspaper, and the date is April 24, 1955 . What date is today?”
    â€œFriday the 22nd …”
    â€œFriday, April 22nd. But these strips of colored