Read A Fine and Private Place for Free Online

just happened to think out loud, son. It’s not important. I mean, sorry I interrupted.”
    â€œSo am I, but the fact, as de Gaulle would say in translation, is accomplished. I couldn’t compose a printable line now if I were on my deathbed.”
    â€œI said I was sorry,” the Inspector said in a huff. “I see I’d better get out of here.”
    â€œOh, sit down. You obviously invaded my domain with malice aforeceps, as a show biz lady of my acquaintance liked to say, in contravention of my rights under the Fourth Amendment.” The old man sat back, rather bewilderedly mollified. “By the way, how about not talking on an empty stomach? Dinner simmers on the hod. Mrs. Fabrikant left us one of her famous, or to put it more accurately, notorious Irish stews. Fabby had to leave early today—”
    â€œI’m in no hurry to eat,” the Inspector said hurriedly.
    â€œDone! I’ll run down to Sammy’s later for some hot kosher pastrami and Jewish rye and lots of half-sour pickles and stuff, and we can feed Fabby’s stew to the Delehantys’ setter, he’s Irish—”
    â€œFine, fine.”
    â€œTherefore how about another round?” Ellery struggled to the vertical, revived a few moribund muscles and tendons, shook himself, and then came round the desk with his glass. He took his father’s empty from the slack fingers. “You still traveling that long way?”
    â€œLong way?”
    â€œTo Tipperary. Proportions?”
    â€œThree-quarters of an ounce each of Irish, sweet vermouth, and—”
    â€œI know, green chartreuse.” He shuddered (the Inspector snapped, “Very funny!”) and dodged into the living room. When he returned, instead of reoccupying his desk chair Ellery dropped into the overstuffed chair facing the sofa.
    â€œIf it’s ambulatory help you need, dad, I can’t lift my duff. That damn deadline’s so close the back of my neck is recommending Listerine. But if you can use an armchair opinion … What’s this one about?”
    â€œAbout a third of a half billion dollars,” Inspector Queen grunted. “And you don’t have to be so darn merry about it.”
    â€œIt’s frustrated-writer’s hysteria, dad. Did I hear you correctly? Billion ?”
    â€œRight. With a buh.”
    â€œFor pity land’s sake. Who’s involved?”
    â€œImportuna Industries. Know anything about the outfit?”
    â€œOnly that it’s a conglomerate of a whole slew of industries and companies, great and small, foreign and domestic, the entire shtik owned by three brothers named Importuna.”
    â€œWrong.”
    â€œWrong?”
    â€œOwned by one brother named Importuna. The other two carry the handle Importunato.”
    â€œFull brothers? Or half, or step?”
    â€œFull, far as I know.”
    â€œHow come the difference in surnames?”
    â€œNino, the oldest, is superstitious, has a thing about lucky numbers or something—I had more important things to break my head about. Anyway, he shortened the family name. His brothers didn’t.”
    â€œNoted. Well?”
    â€œOh, hell,” his father said, and swigged like a desperate man. “Ellery, I warn you … this is wild. I don’t want to be responsible for dragging you into a complicated mess when you’ve your own work to do.…”
    â€œYou’re absolved, dad, shriven. I’ll put it in writing if you like. Satisfied? Go on!”
    â€œWell, all right,” the Inspector said, with an on-your-head-be-it sigh. “The three brothers live in an apartment house they own on the upper East Side, overlooking the river. It’s an old-timer, 9 stories and penthouse, designed by somebody important in the late ’90s, and when Nino Importuna bought it, he had it restored to its original condition, modernized the plumbing and heating, installed the latest in air