Which Way to Die? by Ellery Queen

influencing his judgment? It was possible. He was reputed to have idolized his daughter, an only child.
    When he got back to his office, Corrigan phoned Chief Technician Yoder at the police lab to ask what kind of typewriter had been used in the anonymous note Corrigan had sent over the day before.
    Yoder said it had been done on a Royal portable.
    Coincidence, Corrigan thought as he hung up. It must be. Harry Barber was too nice a guy to send unsigned threats, like some crank.
    Then why had he bothered to check?

10.
    That night Corrigan and Norma had a ball. He did not get her home until nearly three, an hour not appreciated by Chuck Baer, who had to stay up to let her in.
    During the following week Corrigan took Norma out twice more; since he had to make duty the following mornings, he got her home at more reasonable hours.
    By the time the next weekend rolled around, Norma had settled in, like a habit. Corrigan found himself expecting to see her regularly; he began to take their dates for granted. On Saturday she invited him over for lunch. As he was leaving, he said, “Around seven?”
    â€œHey, we’re getting used to each other,” Norma smiled.
    Corrigan considered this. “I guess we are. I kind of like it, Norm. Do you feel in a rut?”
    â€œIn a pleasant one. I’d forgotten what it felt like to depend on a man.”
    It had been a long time since Corrigan had taken a woman for granted. His romances tended to be one-night stands. He wondered uneasily if he should pursue the relationship; it could get dangerously intimate. But then he shrugged. He was enjoying himself too much to let his natural skittishness spoil a good thing. He decided to ride it out and see what happened.
    The only further threats against Gerard Alstrom and Frank Grant were seven more anonymous letters. Only one had been addressed to the police. One had been sent to the district attorney. The other five were received by the Court of Appeals; the justices had turned them over to the police.
    The seven letters were semi-literate, none, was typed and, according to the lab, all had been written by different per sons. The technicians were able to match three to similar letters received four years earlier, but this proved a dead end, since they had never established the authorship of the original notes.
    There was no further evidence that anyone was watching the penthouse.
    Life there had developed its own routine. Gerard spent much of his time reading. Frank and Andy Betz endlessly played cribbage. Mrs. Grant continued to harass the household with her untiring complaints about her son’s neglect. Norma, when she was not cooking or doing chores, spent most of her time in her room.
    Chuck Baer, for lack of anything better to do, developed a panatela cough. When Andy was off on an errand, he played cribbage with Frank Grant, who always trounced him. It did not improve Baer’s disposition.
    Gerard’s father went to his office daily; he visited the penthouse only for dinner and for a short time each evening. He had grown old-looking and ill.
    Baer had been informed that his assignment would end some time during the week.
    On Sunday evening, the tenth day of the siege in the penthouse, Corrigan took Norma to dinner. Because he had to be at work early the next morning, he got her back by eleven.
    He found himself reluctant to let the evening end. The unseasonably warm weather persisted; it was a heavenly night; there was an absurdly full moon.
    He kicked himself for not having suggested a nightcap at his apartment, a suggestion he had been working up to for the last two dates. He had not made it because he sensed that Norma was only just beginning to break out of the shell in which she had imprisoned herself following the breakup of her marriage; she was more likely than not to pull her head in again if pushed too hard. Tonight there was a special glow in her eyes. But he discovered it too late. Corrigan had to settle