Death of a Dude nwo-44

by Rex Stout

  “So he phoned the Attorney General of Montana and demanded a complete detailed report pronto.”

  “No, but he phoned somebody.” The ingredients were in and I started stirring. “There are a lot of people who are grateful for something he did, even after paying the bill, and a few of them are the kind who might phone a governor or even a president, let alone an attorney general. He phoned one of them, maybe more than one, and he phoned Helena. It wasn’t any great favour to ask, just a report. The gist of it will probably be that the evidence against Harvey is all wool, from Montana sheep and two yards wide. If by phone he may have it already, and his appetite for dinner will be even worse.” I looked at my wrist. “He’s at the table now. It’s seven-thirty-two in New York.”

  I put the glass rod down, picked up the pitcher, and poured. As she picked up her glass she said, “I admit that’s good guessing, but you’re not sure. Anyway I’m not. There could be a break.” She raised the glass high. “To Harvey.”

  “One will get you ten. To Harvey.”

  If she had taken my ten-to-one offer, whether I had made a bad bet or not would have depended on whether what happened twenty-six hours later, around eight o’clock Wednesday evening, should be regarded as a break, and that would have depended on who did the regarding. I had spent the day scouting around making useless motions, trying to find a stone with something under it, and it was getting me down. At the supper table I had certainly contributed nothing to help to make it a jolly meal, and when the coffee was finished I had said I had a letter to write and gone to my room. I did want to write something, but not a letter. I was going to do something desperate, something I had never done before: write down every damned fact I had collected in ten days, at least every fact that could conceivably mean anything, and try to find connections or contradictions that would point somewhere. I was at the table by an open window, with a pad and a supply of pencils, considering where to start, when I heard a car coming up the lane. I couldn’t see it because my room was on the creek side. The others were closer than I was, and the fact that I jumped up instantly and scooted to the big room showed what shape I was in. Pitiful. Diana was at the piano and Lily was at the screen door looking out, and I joined her. The car was there, a taxi from Timberburg. It would soon be dusk, but there was light enough to see the man at the wheel stick his head out of the window and call, “Is this Lily Rowan’s place?”

  I opened the door and stepped out and said yes, and the rear door of the taxi opened and a man climbed out, backwards. His big broad behind was Nero Wolfe’s, and when he straightened up and turned around, so was his big broad front. Lily, at my elbow, said, “The mountain comes to Mohammed,” and we crossed the terrace to meet him.

  Chapter 4

  Wolfe never shakes hands with a woman, and rarely with a man, but out in God’s country people loosen up more, and when his hand left mine he actually offered it to Lily as he said, “My apologies. I should have telephoned. You probably resent unexpected callers, as I do, but I dislike the telephone and I have used it too much these two days. I’ll not disturb you. I had to see Mr Goodwin.”

  “I make allowances,” Lily said, “for callers who have come two thousand miles. Your luggage is in the car?”

  “It is in Timberburg. Near there. At a place called Shafer Creek Motel.” To me: “I have a suggestion. That man is foolhardy and his vehicle may collapse at any moment. If one is available here, I’ll send him off and you can drive me back after we have conferred.”

  I turned to Lily. “As you know, he thinks all machinery acts on whim. If you won’t need the car-”

  “This is silly,” she said. To Wolfe: “Of course you’ll sleep here. There’s a room with a bed. After a day in airplanes and cars, you must be about to collapse. Archie will tell the man to go and bring your luggage, and I’ll show you your room. It has a bath. Have you had dinner?”

  “Miss Rowan. I will not impose-”

  “Now listen. You’re used to having people at your mercy; now you’re at mine. My car will not be available. Have you had dinner?”

  “I have eaten, yes. There will be a bill to pay at that place.”

  I said I’d see to it and went and talked with the hackie. He didn’t like the idea of another round trip, but agreed that that would be better than sticking there until his fare was ready to return when I said it might be long after midnight, and I gave him money for the motel bill. When he had turned around and rolled down the lane I entered the cabin by the door to the long hall, kept going, found the last door standing open, and entered. Wolfe was sitting in a chair by the open window with his chin down and his eyes closed. Lily had switched the light on. I stopped three paces in and looked at him. He was probably, at that moment, the only man in Monroe County wearing a vest, which of course was the same dark blue as the jacket and trousers. He had changed at the motel; the cuffs and collar of the yellow shirt were smooth and clean. The blue four-in-hand was a little darker than the suit, and so was the homburg there on the table. There was barely enough room for his hips between the arms of the wicker chair.

  I asked, “Have a nice trip?”

  He said, “There’s a brook out there,” and opened his eyes.

  “Berry Creek. If we had known you were coming there could have been trout for breakfast. Are you staying long?”

  “Pfui.”

  There were two other chairs in the room and I went to one of them and sat. “That’s my mount’s name. Miss Rowan named her mare Cat because she moves like one, and I named my horse, mine when I’m here, Pfui, because he’s a little tricky. The natives pronounce it Fee. If you’re going to do some mountain riding I recommend a palomino named Spotty, because with your bulk-”

  “Shut up.”

  I didn’t intend to, but I did, because Lily entered with a tray, and I got up to take it. On it were two glasses, a bottle of beer, an opener, a pitcher of milk, and paper napkins. “I saw to towels,” she said. “I brought only one bottle of beer because I suppose he likes it cold. Do you need anything?”

  “If we do I’ll get it. We may need you, so don’t wander off.”

  She said she wouldn’t, and left. I put the tray on a table that Wolfe could reach, and he picked up the bottle, inspected the label-Mountain Brewery, Butte-took the opener and used it, and poured.

  “It isn’t bad,” I said. “There’s another brand that I think they put copper in.”

  He held the glass until the bead was down just right, took a sip, made a face, took a healthy swig, and licked foam from his lips. “I would prefer,” he said, “to go to bed. I doubt if my brain will function properly, but I’ll try. I received your letter.”

  “I suspected you had when I saw you get out of the car.”

  “It came Monday, day before yesterday. It didn’t adequately describe the situation. I needed to know more about it, and I telephoned three men. The third one, Mr Oliver McFarland-you remember him.”

  “Certainly.”

  “He was able and willing to oblige me. He has extensive banking and mining interests in this area. At his instigation I received, late yesterday afternoon, a telephone call from the Montana Attorney General. If the facts are as he reported them, you might as well return with me in the morning.”

  I nodded. “I expected this too when I saw you get out of the car. This is going to take a while, and there’s a bigger and better chair in another room. If you’ll vacate that one I’ll take it and make a trade. I’m as uncomfortable looking at you as you are in it.”

  He started to stand, but his hips caught between the arms and lifted the chair. He pushed it down and was free and up, and I took the chair and went, out, the length of the hall, and into the big room. Lily was there with Diana and Wade Worthy over by the fireplace, probably telling them that another guest had arrived. Seeing me, she said, “I should have suggested that. The one over there?”

  It was the one I would have picked, over by the bookshelves. I moved it, put the one I had brought in its place,
picked up the bigger one, which had a seat pad covered with what had once been the hide on a deer’s belly, upturned it to put it on top of my head, and went back to the room. In that short time the beer bottle had been emptied, and after depositing the chair I went to the kitchen and brought another one; and I poured a glass of milk and went to my chair with it. Wolfe looked better, and of course felt better, in the roomier seat.

  “I’ll give you just the skeleton,” I said, “and the flesh and skin can be added as required. If I’m more outspoken than usual it’s probably because I’m on leave of absence without pay. First, I do not think you came to haul me back. You know me almost as well as I know you. I wrote you that one will get you fifty that Harvey’s clean, and you know I don’t give those odds unless I’m dead sure. I think you came to get my facts and then hurry it up by telling me what to do. I suppose you know, from the Attorney General, that Harvey’s daughter had a baby this spring, and she told Harvey and Carol, his wife, that the father was Philip Brodell, a dude who was here last summer at a nearby ranch, and before long everybody knew it.”

  “Yes. Those are facts?”

  “Sure. Then Brodell came again this summer, on Monday, July twenty-second. Three days later-”

  “I interrupt. You’re on leave without pay, but permit me. About three o’clock Thursday afternoon he went up a hill alone to pick berries. When he didn’t return, even for the evening meal, there was concern, and when dark approached a search was begun. His favourite area for berries was known. Around nine-thirty his body was found by a man named Samuel Peacock on a boulder near the top of the hill. He had been shot twice, in the shoulder and in the neck. No bullets were found, but the wounds indicated a high-powered gun. The medical evidence was that he had died between three and six o’clock. The first limit was of course established, since he had been seen alive by four people around three o’clock; the second limit is probably correct. Do you challenge any of that?”

  “No.” I took a sip of milk. “That must have been quite a phone call. I hope he didn’t call collect.”

  “He didn’t. I asked many questions. You don’t dispute the motive for Mr Greve?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then to opportunity. He has no alibi for that afternoon from one o’clock on. He says he was on horseback looking for stray cattle, but he was alone. The horse could have taken him within about a mile of where the body was found. Challenge?”

  “No.”

  “Then to means. Three guns of the kind indicated were available to him, two in his house and one in the sleeping quarters of men employed at the ranch. Challenge?”

  “None you would buy, or a jury. His wife and daughter say the guns were there in the house, and Mel Fox says his was where it belonged, in his room. All right, they would, and Mel was out on a horse too.”

  “Then to particulars. The only other people with any discernible motive, the same motive as his, have alibis that have been checked and verified. I wasn’t given their names, but-”

  “Harvey’s wife and daughter and a kid named Gilbert Haight. The wife and daughter, okay. The kid is on my list. His father is the county sheriff. He wanted to marry the daughter and says he still does-the kid, not the sheriff.”

  “Indeed.” His brow was up. “You challenge his alibi?”

  “I’ve worked some on it. The big trouble is I’m a dude. A dude out here is in about the same fix as a hippie in a Sunday school. Communication problems. You would see if you stayed, especially dressed like that, with that vest and hat. Any more particulars?”

  “Yes. The day after Mr Brodell arrived Mr Greve said in the hearing of two men, ‘A varmint with that thick a hide isn’t fit to live.’ Also-”

  “He said ain’t, not isn’t. I heard him. You could stand the ‘varmint,’ but the ‘ain’t’ was too much for you.”

  “The meaning was intact. Also, on Friday afternoon, the day after Brodell was killed, he drove to Timberburg and bought a bottle of champagne, which was unprecedented, and that evening he and his wife and daughter drank it. Also-”

  “That was a phone call. Knowing how Harvey felt about Brodell, I was surprised he didn’t buy two bottles, or a case and throw a party.” I drank milk.

  “And the next day, Saturday, when Brodell’s father, who had come from St. Louis for the body, went to see Mr Greve, he assaulted him.”

  “He clipped him and gave him a shiner. That was regrettable, no matter what the father had said to ask for it, since he’s too old to be poked, but everybody knows that it’s not a good idea to pull Harvey’s nose or loosen his cinch. Also?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s probably enough for a jury, and that’s the nut. That covers the phone call?”

  “Sufficiently.”

  “Then it’s my turn. In that letter I offered you fifty to one, and I still do. I know Harvey Greve and so does Miss Rowan. I haven’t got one measly scrap of evidence for him, and none against anyone else, but I know him. Did the Attorney General mention that the first bullet that hit Brodell, in the shoulder, came from behind him?”

  “No.” He had opened the second bottle and poured.

  “Well, it did. He was standing on a boulder, facing uphill, picking huckleberries, and X sneaked from downhill to easy range. The first bullet turned him around, so he was facing X when the second bullet got him in the neck and killed him. All right, that settles it. X was not Harvey Greve. I’ll believe that Harvey Greve shot a man in the back, no warning, when I see you cut up a dill pickle, put maple syrup on it, and eat it with a spoon. And even if I could believe he shot a man in the back I still wouldn’t believe he shot Brodell. Everybody knows there’s no better shot around. If he shot at a man’s back he wouldn’t hit his shoulder. And the second shot, in the neck? Nuts.”

  He was frowning. He drank and put the glass down. “Archie. Your emotions are blocking your mental processes. If it is generally known that he is a good shot, making it appear that X wasn’t would be a serviceable subterfuge.”

  “Not for Harvey. He hasn’t got that kind of mind. Subterfuge is not only not in his vocabulary, it’s not in his nature. But that’s just talk. The point is that he would not sneak up on a man and shoot him in the back. Not a chance. Hell, make it a hundred to one.”

  The wrinkles of the frown were deeper. “This must be flummery. Certainly it isn’t candor. Basing a firm conclusion of a man’s guilt or innocence-not merely a conjecture-solely on your knowledge of his character? That’s tommyrot and you know it. Pfui.”

  I gave him a wide grin. “Good. Now I’ve got you cold. You were right, your brain isn’t functioning properly. Less than three years ago you formed a firm conclusion on Orrie Gather’s guilt or innocence solely on Saul Panzer’s knowledge of his character. You also consulted Fred and me, but we were on the fence. Saul decided it. [see Death of a doxy] It’s too bad I don’t rate as high as Saul. And I have backing. Miss Rowan’s conclusion is as firm as mine, but I admit she’s a woman. There’s a plane that leaves Helena at eleven in the morning. If I find I can’t make it back in time to vote on November fifth I’ll send for an absentee ballot.”

  The frown was gone, but his lips had tightened to a thin straight line. He poured the rest of the second bottle, watched the bead go down, picked up the glass, and drank. When his lips had been licked, they didn’t tighten again. He twisted his head around for a look at the open window, put his hands on the chair arms to pry his seventh of a ton up, turned to the window, pulled it shut, sat down again, and asked, “Is there an electric blanket?”

  “Probably. I’ll ask Miss Rowan. When I went to bed at two o’clock Sunday morning it was thirty-six above. I’ll make a concession. I’ll drive you to Helena. To catch that plane we’ll have to leave by seven o’clock, and I’d better phone if you want to be sure of a seat.”

  He took in air through his nose, all he had room for, say half a bushel, and let it out through his mouth. That wasn’t enough, and he did it again. He looked at the
bed, then at the dresser, then at the door to the bathroom, and then at me. “Who slept in this room last night?”

  “Nobody. It’s a spare.”

  “Bring Miss Rowan and-No, you’re on leave. Will you please ask Miss Rowan if it will be convenient for her to join us?”

  “Glad to.” I went. As I passed the door of Wade’s room the sound of his typewriter, not the Underwood, came through. In the big room Diana, with a magazine, and Lily, with a book, were on chairs near the fireplace, where six-foot logs were burning as usual of evenings. I told Lily her new guest wanted to know if it would be convenient for her to join us, and she put the book down and got up and came. On the way down the hall she asked no questions, which was like her and therefore no surprise. She knew from experience that if I knew something she should know, I had a tongue.

  I was supposing that he was going to ask her something about Harvey’s character, but he didn’t. When she crossed to him and asked if she could do something he tilted his head back and said, “You’ll oblige me if you sit. I don’t like to talk up to people, or down. I prefer eyes at a level.”

  I moved the third chair up for her, and as she sat she spoke. “If I had known in advance you were coming I would have had a vase of orchids in the room.”

  He grunted. “I’m not in a humour for orchids. I’m in a predicament, Miss Rowan. I am indeed at your mercy. It is necessary for me to be in this immediate neighbourhood, in easy touch with Mr Goodwin, and I don’t know how long. That place near Timberburg is not a sty, it’s moderately clean, but it would be an ordeal, and it’s at a distance. A self-invited guest is an abomination, but there is no alternative for me. May I occupy this room?”