Mrs. Williams came in and stumbled over a chair. “Mr. Queen? You in here?”
“Present.”
“Then why don’t you put on a light?” She found the switch. Ellery was bunched in a corner of the sofa, feet on the picture window, looking at Hollywood. It looked like a fireworks display, popping lights in all colors. “Your dinner’s cold.”
“Leave it on the kitchen table, Mrs. Williams. You go on home.”
She sniffed. “It’s that Miss Hill and the naked man, only he’s got clothes on this evening.”
“Why didn’t you say so!” Ellery sprang from the sofa. “Laurel, Mac! Come in.”
They were smiling, but Ellery thought they both looked a little peaked. Crowe Macgowan was in a respectable suit; he even wore a tie.
“Well, well, still communing with mysterious thoughts, eh, Queen? We’re not interrupting anything momentous?”
“As far as I can see,” said Laurel, “he hasn’t moved from one spot in sixty hours. Ellery,” she said abruptly, “we have some news for you.”
“News? For me?”