Wolfe scowled at us. “An affecting sight,” he snorted.
VII
There were various aspects of the situation. One was lunch. For Wolfe it was unthinkable to have company in the house at mealtime, no matter what his or her status was, without feeding him or her, but he certainly wasn’t going to sit at table with a female who had just pounced on him and clawed at him. That problem was simple. She and I were served in the dining room, and Wolfe ate in the kitchen with Fritz. We were served, but she didn’t eat much. She kept listening and looking toward the hall, though I assured her that care would be taken to see that her husband didn’t kill her on those premises.
A second aspect was the reaction of three of the tenants to their discovery of my identity. I handled that myself. When the doorbell rang and I admitted them, at a quarter past two, I told them I would be glad to discuss my split personality with any or all of them later, if they still wanted to, but they would have to file it until Wolfe was through. Victor Talento had another beef that he wouldn’t file, that I had doublecrossed him on the message he had asked me to take to Jewel Jones. He wanted to get nasty about it and demanded a private talk with Wolfe, but I told him to go climb a rope.
I also had to handle the third aspect, which had two angles. There was Miss Jones’s theory that her husband would kill her on sight, which might or might not be well founded, and there was the fact that one of them had killed Kampf and might go to extremes if pushed. On that I took three precautions: I showed them the Carley.38 I had put in my pocket and told them it was loaded; I insisted on patting them from shoulders to ankles; and I kept Miss Jones in the dining room until I had them seated in the office, on a row of chairs facing Wolfe’s desk, and until Wolfe had come in from the kitchen and been told their names. When he was in his chair behind his desk I went across the hall for her and brought her in.
Meegan jumped up and started for us. I stiff-armed him and made it good. She got behind me. Talento and Aland left their chairs, presumably to help protect the mare. Meegan was talking, and so were they. I detoured with her around back of them and got her to a chair at the end of my desk, and when I sat I was in an ideal spot to trip anyone headed for her. Talento and Aland had pulled Meegan down onto a chair between them, and he sat staring at her.
“With that hubbub over,” Wolfe said, “I want to be sure I have the names right.” His eyes went from left to right. “Talento, Meegan, Aland, Chaffee. Is that correct?
I told him yes.
“Then I’ll proceed.” He glanced up at the wall clock. “Twenty hours ago Philip Kampf was killed in the house where you gentlemen live. The circumstances indicate that one of you killed him. But I won’t rehash the multifarious details which you have already discussed at length with the police; you are familiar with them. I have not been hired to work on this case; the only client I have is a dog, and he came to my office by inadvertence. However, it is—”
The doorbell rang. I asked myself if I had put the chain bolt on, and decided I had. Through the open door to the hall I saw Fritz passing to answer it. Wolfe started to go on, but was annoyed by the sound of voices, Fritz’s and another’s, coming through, and stopped. The voices continued. Wolfe shut his eyes and compressed his lips. The audience sat and looked at him.
Then Fritz appeared in the doorway and announced, “Inspector Cramer, sir.”
Wolfe’s eyes opened. “What does he want?”
“I told him you are engaged. He says he knows you are, that the four men were followed to your house and he was notified. He says he expected you to be trying some trick with the dog, and he knows that’s what you are doing, and he intends to come in and see what it is. Sergeant Stebbins is with him.”
Wolfe grunted. “Archie, tell—No. You’d better stay where you are. Fritz, tell him he may see and hear what I’m doing, provided he gives me thirty minutes without interruptions or demands. If he agrees to that, bring them in.”
“Wait!” Ross Chaffee was on his feet. “You said you would discuss it with us before you communicated with the police.”
“I haven’t communicated with them, they’re here.”
“You told them to come!”
“No. I would have preferred to deal with you men first and then call them, but here they are and they might as well join us. Bring them, Fritz, on that condition.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fritz went. Chaffee thought he had something more to say, decided he hadn’t, and sat down. Talento said something to him, and he shook his head. Jerry Aland, much more presentable now that he was combed and dressed, kept his eyes fastened on Wolfe.
For Meegan, apparently, there was no one in the room but him and his wife.
Cramer and Stebbins marched in, halted three paces from the door, and took a survey.
“Be seated,” Wolfe invited them. “Luckily, Mr. Cramer, your usual chair is unoccupied.”
“Where’s the dog?” Cramer barked.
“In the kitchen. You had better suspend that prepossession. It’s understood that you will be merely a spectator for thirty minutes?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Then sit down. But you should have one piece of information. You know the gentlemen, of course, but not the lady. Her current name is Miss Jewel Jones. Her legal name is Mrs. Richard Meegan.”
“Meegan?” Cramer stared. “The one in the picture Chaffee painted? Meegan’s wife?”
“That’s right. Please be seated.”
“Where did you get her?”
“That can wait. No interruptions and no demands. Confound it, sit down!”
Cramer went and lowered himself onto the red leather chair. Purley Stebbins got one of the yellow ones and planted it behind the row, between Chaffee and Aland.
Wolfe regarded the quartet. “I was about to say, gentlemen, that it was something the dog did that pointed to the murderer for me. But before—”
“What did it do?” Cramer barked.
“You know all about it,” Wolfe told him coldly. “Mr. Goodwin related it to you exactly as it happened. If you interrupt again, by heaven, you can take them all down to your quarters, not including the dog, and stew it out yourself.”
He went back to the four. “But before I come to that, another thing or two. I offer no comment on your guile with Mr. Meegan. You were all friends of Miss Jones’s, having, I suppose, enjoyed various degrees of intimacy with her, and you refused to disclose her to a husband whom she had abandoned and professed to fear. I will even concede that there was a flavor of gallantry in your conduct. But when Mr. Kampf was murdered and the police swarmed in, it was idiotic to try to keep her out of it. They were sure to get to her. I got to her first only because of Mr. Goodwin’s admirable enterprise and characteristic luck.”
He shook his head at them. “It was also idiotic of you to assume that Mr. Goodwin was a police officer, and admit him and answer his questions, merely because he had been present during the abortive experiment with the dog. You should have asked to see his credentials. None of you had any idea who he was. Even Mr. Meegan, who had seen him in this office in the morning, was bamboozled. I mention this to anticipate any possible official complaint that Mr. Goodwin impersonated an officer. You know he didn’t. He merely took advantage of your unwarranted assumption.”
He shifted in his chair. “Another thing. Yesterday morning Mr. Meegan called here by appointment to ask me to do a job for him. With his first words I gathered that it was something about his wife, and I don’t take that kind of work, and I was brusque with him. He was offended. He rushed out in a temper, getting his hat and raincoat from the rack in the hall, and he took Mr. Goodwin’s coat instead of his own. Late in the afternoon Mr. Goodwin went to Arbor Street, with the coat that had been left in error, to exchange it. He saw that in front of number twenty-nine there were collected two police cars, a policeman on post, some people, and a dog. He decided to postpone his errand and went on by, after a brief halt during which he patted the dog. He walke
d home, and had gone nearly two miles when he discovered that the dog was following him. He brought the dog in a cab the rest of the way, to this house and this room.”
He flattened a palm on his desk. “Now. Why did the dog follow Mr. Goodwin through the turmoil of the city? Mr. Cramer’s notion that the dog was enticed is poppycock. Mr. Goodwin is willing to believe, as many men are, that he is irresistible to both dogs and women, and doubtless his vanity impeded his intellect or he would have reached the same conclusion that I did. The dog didn’t follow him; it followed the coat. You ask, as I did, how to account for Mr. Kampf’s dog following Mr. Meegan’s coat. I couldn’t. I can’t. Then, since it was unquestionably Mr. Kampf’s dog, it couldn’t have been Mr. Meegan’s coat. It is better than a conjecture, it is next thing to a certainty, that it was Mr. Kampf’s coat.”
His gaze leveled at the husband. “Mr. Meegan. Some two hours ago I learned from Mr. Goodwin that you maintain that you had never seen or heard of Mr. Kampf. That was fairly conclusive, but before sending for you I had to verify my conjecture that the model who had sat for Mr. Chaffee’s picture was your wife. I would like to hear it straight from you. Did you ever meet with Philip Kampf alive?”
Meegan was meeting the gaze. “No.”
“Don’t you want to qualify that?”
“No.”
“Then where did you get his raincoat?”
No answer. Meegan’s jaw worked. He spoke. “I didn’t have his raincoat, or if I did I didn’t know it.”
“That won’t do. I warn you, you are in deadly peril. The raincoat that you brought into this house and left here is in the hall now, there on the rack. It can easily be established that it belonged to Mr. Kampf and was worn by him. Where did you get it?”
Meegan’s jaw worked some more. “I never had it, if it belonged to Kampf. This is a dirty frame. You can’t prove that’s the coat I left here.”
Wolfe’s voice sharpened. “One more chance. Have you any explanation of how Kampf’s coat came into your possession?”
“No, and I don’t need any.”
He may not have been pure boob. If he hadn’t noticed that he wore the wrong coat home, and he probably didn’t, in his state of mind, this had hit him from a clear sky and he had no time to study it.
“Then you’re done for,” Wolfe told him. “For your own coat must be somewhere, and I think I know where. In the police laboratory. Mr. Kampf was wearing one when you killed him and pushed his body down the stairs—and that explains why, when they were making that experiment this morning, the dog showed no interest in the spot where the body had lain. It had been enveloped, not in his coat but in yours. That can be established too. If you won’t explain how you got Mr. Kampf’s coat, then explain how he got yours. Is that also a frame?”
Wolfe pointed a finger at him. “I note that flash in your eye, and I think I know what it means. But your brain is lagging. If, after killing him, you took your raincoat off of him and put on him the one that you thought was his, that won’t help you any. For in that case the coat that was on the body is Mr. Goodwin’s, and certainly that can be established, and how would you explain that? It looks hopeless, and—”
Meegan was springing up, but before he even got well started Purley’s big hands were on his shoulders, pulling him back and down. And a new voice sounded.
“I told you he would kill me! I knew he would! He killed Phil!”
Jewel Jones was looking not at her husband, who was under control, but at Wolfe. He snapped at her, “How do you know he did?”
Judging by her eyes and the way she was shaking, she would be hysterical in another two minutes, and maybe she knew it, for she poured it out. “Because Phil told me—he told me he knew Dick was here looking for me, and he knew how afraid I was of him, and he said if I wouldn’t come and be with him again he would tell Dick where I was. I didn’t think he really would—I didn’t think Phil could be as mean as that, and I wouldn’t promise, but yesterday morning he phoned me and told me he had seen Dick and told him he thought he knew who had posed for that picture, and he was going to see him again in the afternoon and tell him about me if I didn’t promise, and so I promised. I thought if I promised it would give me time to decide what to do. But Phil must have gone to see Dick again anyway—”
“Where had they met in the morning?”
“At Phil’s apartment, he said. And he said—that’s why I know Dick killed him—he said Dick had gone off with his raincoat, and he laughed about it and said he was willing for Dick to have his raincoat if he could have Dick’s wife.” She was shaking harder now. “And I’ll bet that’s what he told Dick! That was like Phil! I’ll bet he told Dick I was coming back to him and he thought that was a good trade, a raincoat for a wife! That was like Phil! You don’t—”
She giggled. It started with a giggle, and then the valves busted open and here it came. When something happens in that office to smash a woman’s nerves, as it has more than once, it usually falls to me to deal with it, but that time three other guys, led by Ross Chaffee, came to her, and I was glad to leave it to them. As for Wolfe, he skedaddled. If there is one thing on earth he absolutely will not be in a room with it’s a woman in eruption. He got up and marched out. As for Meegan, Purley and Cramer had him.
When they left with him, they didn’t take the dog. To relieve the minds of any of you who have the notion, which I understand is widespread, that it makes a dog neurotic to change its name, I might add that he responds to Jet now as if his mother had started calling him that before he had his eyes open.
As for the raincoat, Wolfe had been right about the flash in Meegan’s eye. Kampf had been wearing Meegan’s raincoat when he was killed, and of course that wouldn’t do, so after strangling him Meegan had taken it off and put on the one he thought was Kampf’s. Only it was mine. As a part of the DA’s case I went down to headquarters and identified it. At the trial it helped the jury to decide that Meegan deserved the big one. After that was over I suppose I could have claimed it, but the idea didn’t appeal to me. My new one is a different color.
The World of
Rex Stout
Now, for the first time ever, enjoy a peek into the life of Nero Wolfe’s creator, Rex Stout, courtesy of the Stout Estate. Pulled from Rex Stout’s own archives, here are rarely seen, never-before-published memorabilia. Each title in “The Rex Stout Library” will offer an exclusive look into the life of the man who gave Nero Wolfe life.
Three Witnesses
In 1967 Rex Stout was approached by the school newspaper of Junior High School 115 in New York City and asked the following question: “Which book or books were your favorites as a teenager and why?” Stout’s reply is reproduced here.
I was an insatiable book reader from the age of five. The list below of some of my favorites as a teenager may give the impression that I am showing off, but I’m not: it is quite honest.
History of England by Macaulay, Essays by Francis Bacon, Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Vanity Fair by Thackeray, Little Lord Fauntleroy by Frances Hodgson Burnett, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, Poems by John Keats, Paradise Lost by John Milton, the Sherlock Holmes stories by Conan Doyle, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, and the novels and stories of Rudyard Kipling.
Thank you for reminding me of those wonderful days when I read so many exciting things the first time.
Sincerely,
Rex Stout
THREE WITNESSES
A Bantam Crime Line Book/published by arrangement with Viking Penguin
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Viking edition published March 1956
Bantam edition/July 1957
Bantam reissue edition/October 1994
CRIME LINE and the portrayal of a boxed “cl” are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 1955 by Rex Stout.
Introduction copyright © 1994 by Susan Conant.
No part of t
his book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Viking Penguin, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN: 978-0-307-75625-1
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
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