“The surprise is wasted on me,” she said scornfully. “I'm oru It's yours and you had to get it back. Comrade!” “Shut up.” I was a little annoyed. I removed it from the cellophane cover and inspected it some more, but there was nothing tricky about it. It was merely what it was, a membership card in the American Communist Party, Number 128-394, and the name on it was William Reynolds. What annoyed me was that it was so darned pat. Our client had insisted that Rony was a Commie, and the minute I do a little personal research on him, here's his membership card! Of course the name meant nothing. I didn't like it. It's an anti-climax to have to tell a client he was dead right in the first place.
“What do they call you, Bill or Willie?” Ruth asked, “Hold this,” I told her, and gave her the card. I got the key and opened up the car trunk, hauled out the big suitcase, and got the big camera and some bulbs.
Saul came to help. Ruth was making comments which we ignored. I took three pictures of that card, once held in Saul's hand, once propped up on the suitcase, and once leaning against Rony's ear. Then I slipped it back in the cellophane cover and replaced it in the wallet, and put the wallet where I found it, in Rony's breast pocket.
One operation remained, but it took less time because I had more experience at taking wax impressions of keys than at photography. The wax was in the medicine case, and the keys, eight of them, were in Rony's fold. There was no need to label the impressions, since I didn't know which key was for what anyway. I took all eight, not wanting to skimp.
“He can't last much longer,” Ruth announced.
“He don't need to.” I shoved a roll of bills at Saul, who had put the suitcase back in the trunk. “This came out of his wallet. I don't know how much it is and don't care, but I don't want it on me. Buy Ruth a string of pearls or give it to the Red Cross. You'd better get going, huh?” They lost no time. Saul and I understand each other so well that all he said was, “Phone in?” and I said, “Yeah,” The next minute they were off. As soon as their car was around the next bend I circled to the other side of the convertible, next the road, stretched out on the grass, and started groaning.
When nothing happened I quit after a while. Just as my weight was bringing the wet in the ground through the grass and on through my clothes, and I was about to shift, a noise came from Rony's side and I let out a groan. I got on to my knees, muttered an expressive word or two, groaned again, reached for the handle of the door and pulled myself to my feet, reached inside and turned on the lights, and saw Rony sitting on the grass inspecting his wallet.
“Hell, you're alive,” I muttered.
He said nothing.
“The bastards,” I muttered.
He said nothing. It took him two more minutes to decide to try to stand up.
I admit that an hour and fifty minutes later, when I drove away from the kerb in front of his apartment on Sixty-ninth Street after letting him out, I was totally in the dark about his opinion of me. He hadn't said more than fifty words all the way, leaving it to me to decide whether we should stop at a State Police barracks to report our misfortune, which I did, knowing that Saul and Ruth were safely out of the county; but I couldn't expect the guy to be very talkative when he was busy recovering after an expert operation by Ruth Brady. I couldn't make up my mind whether he had been sitting beside me in silent sympathy with a fellow sufferer or had merely decided that the time for dealing with me would have to come later, after his brain had got back to something like normal.
The clock on the dash said 1.12 as I turned into the garage on Eleventh Avenue.
Taking the caribou bag, but leaving the other stuff in the trunk, I didn't feel too bad as I rounded the corner into Thirty-fifth Street and headed for our stoop. I was a lot better prepared to face Wolfe than I had been all day, and my head was now clear and comfortable. The week-end hadn't been a washout after all, except that I was coming home hungry, and as I mounted the stoop I was looking forward to a session m the kitchen, knowing what to expect in the refrigerator kept stocked by Wolfe and Fritz Brenner.
I inserted the key and turned the knob, but the door would open only two inches.
That surprised me, since when I am out and expected home it is not customary for Fritz or Wolfe to put on the chain bolt except on special occasions. I pushed the button, and in a moment the stoop light went on and Fritz's voice came through the crack.
“That you, Archie?” That was odd too, since through the one-way glass panel he had a good view of me. But I humoured him and told him it really was me, and he let me in. After I crossed the threshold he shut the door and replaced the bolt, and then I had a third surprise. It was past Wolfe's bedtime, but there he was in the door to the office, glowering at me.
I told him good evening. “Quite a reception I get,” I added. “Why the barricade?
Someone been trying to swipe an orchid?” I turned to Fritz. “I'm so damn hungry I could even eat your cooking.” I started for the kitchen, but Wolfe's voice stopped me.
“Come in here,” he commanded. “Fritz, will you bring in a tray?” Another oddity. I followed him into the office. As I was soon to learn, he had news that he would have waited up all night to tell me, but something I had said had pushed it aside for the moment. No concern at all, not even life or death, could be permitted to shove itself ahead of food. As he lowered himself into the chair behind his desk he demanded, “Why are you so hungry? Doesn't Mr Sperling feed his guests?” “Sure.” I sat. “There's nothing wrong with the grub, but they put something in the drinks that takes your appetite. It's a long story. Want to hear it tonight?” “No.” He looked at the clock. “But I must. Go ahead.” I obliged. I was still getting the characters introduced when Fritz came with the tray, and I bit into a sturgeon sandwich and went on. I could tell from Wolfe's expression that for some reason anything and everything would be welcome, and I let him have it all. By the time I finished it was after two o'clock, the tray had been cleaned up except for a little milk in the pitcher, and Wolfe knew all that I knew, leaving out a few little personal details.
I emptied the pitcher into the glass. “So I guess Sperling's hunch was good and he really is a Commie. With a picture of the card and the assortment I got of Rony, I should think you could get that lined up by that character who has appeared as Mr Jones on our expense list now and then. He may not actually be Uncle Joe's nephew, but he seems to be at least a deputy in the Union Square Politburo. Can't you get him to research it?” Fritz had brought another tray, with beer, and Wolfe poured the last of the second bottle.
“I could, yes.” He drank and put the glass down. “But it would be a waste of Mr Sperling's money. Even if that is Mr Rony's card and he is a party member, as he well may be, I suspect that it is merely a masquerade.” He wiped his lips. “I have no complaint of your performance, Archie, which was in character, and I should know your character; and I can't say you transgressed your instructions, since you had a free hand, but you might have phoned before assuming the risks of banditry.” “Really.” I was sarcastic. “Excuse me, but since when have you invited constant contact on a little job like tripping up a would-be bridegroom?” “I haven't. But you were aware that another factor had entered, or at least been admitted as conjecture. It is no longer conjecture. You didn't phone me, but someone else did. A man—a voice you are acquainted with. So am I.” “You mean Arnold Zeck?” “No name was pronounced. But it was that voice. As you know, it is unmistakable.” “What did he have to say?” “Neither was Mr Rony's name pronounced, nor Mr Sperling's. But he left no room for dubiety. In effect I was told to cease forthwith any inquiry into the activities or interests of Mr Rony or suffer penalties.” “What did you have to say?” “I—demurred.” Wolfe tried to pour beer, found the bottle was empty, and set it down. “His tone was more peremptory than it was the last time I heard it, and I didn't fully conceal my resentment. I stated my position in fairly strong terms.
He ended with an ultimatum. He gave me twenty-four hours to recall you from your week-e
nd.” “He knew I was up there?” “Yes.” “I'll be damned.” I let out a whistle. “This Rony boy is really something. A party member and one of Mr Z's little helpers—which isn't such a surprising combination, at that. And not only have I laid hands on him, but Saul and Ruth have too. Goddam it! I'll have to—when did this phone call come?” “Yesterday afternoon—” Wolfe glanced up at the clock. “Saturday, at ten minutes past six.” Then his ultimatum expired eight hours ago and we're still breathing. Even so, it wouldn't have hurt to get time out for changing our signals. Why didn't you phone me and I could—” “Shut up!” I lifted the brows. Why?” “Because even if we are poltroons cowering in a corner, we might have the grace not to talk like it! I reproach you for not phoning. You reproach me for not phoning. It is only common prudence to keep the door bolted, but there is no possible—” That may not have been his last syllable, but if he got one more in I didn't hear it. I have heard a lot of different noises here and there, and possibly one or two as loud as the one that interrupted Wolfe and made me jump out of my chair halfway across the room, but nothing much like it. To reproduce it you could take a hundred cops, scatter them along the block you live in, and have them start unanimously shooting windows with forty-fives.
Then complete silence.
Wolfe said something.
I grabbed a gun from a drawer, ran to the hall, flipped the switch for the stoop light, removed the chain bolt, opened the door, and stepped out. Across the street to the left two windows went up, and voices came and heads poked out, but the street was deserted. Then I saw that I wasn't standing on the stone of the stoop but on a piece of glass, and if I didn't like that piece there were plenty of others. They were all over the stoop, the steps, the area-way, and the sidewalk. I looked straight up, and another piece came flying down, missed me by a good inch, and crashed and tinkled at my feet. I backed across the sill, shut the door, and turned to face Wolfe, who was standing in the hall looking bewildered.
“He took it out on the orchids,” I stated. “You stay here. I'll go up and look.”
As I went up the stairs three at a time I heard the sound of the elevator. He must have moved fast. Fritz was behind me but couldn't keep up. The top landing, which was walled with concrete tile and plastered, was intact. I flipped the light switch and opened the door to the first plant room, the warm room, but I stopped after one step in because there was no light. I stood for five seconds, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and by then Wolfe and Fritz were behind me.
“Let me get by,” Wolfe growled like a dog ready to spring.
“No.” I pushed back against him. “You'll scalp yourself or cut your throat. Wait here till I get a light.” He bellowed past my shoulder. “Theodore! Theodore!” A voice came from the dim starlit ruins. “Yes, sir! What happened?” “Are you all right?” “No,sir! What—” “Are you hurt?” “No, I'm not hurt, but what happened?” I saw movement in the direction of the corner where Theodore's room was, and a sound came of glass falling and breaking.
“You got a light?” I called.
“No, the doggone lights are all—” “Then stay still, damn it, while I get a light.” “Stand still!” Wolfe roared.
I beat it down to the office. By the time I got back up again there were noises from windows across the street, and also from down below. We ignored them. The sight disclosed by the flashlights was enough to make us ignore anything. Of a thousand panes of glass and ten thousand orchid plants some were in fact still whole, as we learned later, but it certainly didn't look like it that first survey. Even with the lights, moving around through that jungle of jagged glass hanging down and protruding from Plants and benches and underfoot wasn't really fun, but Wolfe had to see and so had Theodore, who was okay physically but got so damn mad I thought he was going to choke.
Finally Wolfe got to where a dozen Odontoglossum harryanum, his current pride and joy, were kept. He moved the light back and forth over the gashed and fallen stems and leaves and clusters, with fragments of glass everywhere, turned, and said quietly, “We might as well go downstairs.” “The sun will be up in two hours,” Theodore said through his teeth.
“I know. We need men.” When we got to the office we phoned Lewis Hewitt and G. M. Hoag for help before we called the police. Anyway by that time a prowl car had come.
CHAPTER Six
Six hours later I pushed my chair back from the dining-table, stretched all the way, and allowed myself a good thorough yawn without any apology, feeling that I had earned it. Ordinarily I have my breakfast in the kitchen with Fritzy, and Wolfe has his in his room, but that day wasn't exactly ordinary.
A gang of fourteen men, not counting Theodore, was up on the roof cleaning up and salvaging, and an army of glaziers was due at noon. Andy Krasicki had come in from Long Island and was in charge. The street was roped off, because of the danger from falling glass. The cops were still nosing around out in front and across the street, and presumably in other quarters too, but none was left in our house except Captain Murdoch, who, with Wolfe, was seated at the table I was just leaving, eating griddle cakes and honey.
They knew all about it, back to a certain point. The people who lived in the house directly across the street were away for the summer. On its roof they had found a hundred and ninety-two shells from an SM and a tommy-gun, and they still had scientists up there collecting clues to support the theory that that was where the assault had come from, in case the lawyer for the defence should claim that the shells had been dropped by pigeons. Not that there was yet any call for a lawyer for the defence, since there were no defendants. So far there was no word as to how they had got to the roof of the unoccupied house. All they knew 34 Was that persons unknown had somehow got to that roof and from it, at 2.24 a.m., had shot hell out of our plant rooms, and had made a getaway through a passage into Thirty-sixth Street, and I could have told them that much without ever leaving our premises.
I admit we weren't much help. Wolfe didn't even mention the name of Sperling or Rony, let alone anything beginning with Z. He refused to offer a specific guess at the identity of the perpetrators, and it wasn't too hard to get them to accept that as the best to be had, since it was quite probable that there were several inhabitants of the metropolitan area who would love to make holes not only in Wolfe's plant rooms but in Wolfe himself. Even so, they insisted that some must be more likely to own tommy guns and more willing to use them in such a direct manner, but Wolfe said that was irrelevant because the gunners had almost certainly been hired on a piece-work basis.
I left the breakfast table as soon as I was through because there were a lot of phone calls to make—to slat manufacturers, hardware stores, painters, supply houses, and others. I was at it when Captain Murdoch left and Wolfe took the elevator to the roof, and still at it when Wolfe came down again, trudged into the office, got himself lowered into his chair, leaned back, and heaved a deep sigh.
I glanced at him. “You'd better go up and take a nap. And I'll tell you something. I can be just as stubborn as you can, and courage and valour and spunk are very fine things and I'm all for them, but I'm also a fairly good book-keeper. If this keeps up, as I suppose it will, the balance sheet will be a lulu. I have met Gwenn socially and therefore might be expected to grit my teeth and stick; but you haven't, and all you need to do is return his retainer. What I want to say is that if you do I promise never to ride you about it. Never.
Want me to get the Bible?” “No.” His eyes were half closed. “Is everything arranged for the repairs and replacements?” “As well as it can be now.” “Then call that place and speak to the elder daughter.” I was startled. “Why her? What reason have you—” “Pfui. You thought you concealed the direction your interest took—your personal interest—but you didn't. I know you too well. Call her and learn if all the family is there—all except the son, who probably doesn't matter. If they are, tell her we'll be there in two hours and want to see them.” “We?” “Yes. You and I.” I got at the phone. He was not really smas
hing a precedent. It was true that he had an unbreakable rule not to stir from his office to see anyone on business, but what had happened that night had taken this out of the category of business and listed it under struggle for survival.
One of the help answered, and I gave my name and asked for Miss Madeline Sperling. Her husband's name had been Pendleton, but she had tossed it in the discard. My idea was to keep to essentials, but she had to make it a conversation. Rony had called Gwenn only half an hour ago and told her about the hold-up, and of course Madeline wanted it all over again from me. I had to oblige. She thought she was worried about my head, and I had to assure her there were no bad cracks in it from the bandit's blow. When I finally got her on to the subject at hand, though, and she knew from the way I put it that this was strictly business and deserved attention, she snapped nicely into it and made it straight and simple. I hung up and turned to Wolfe.
“All set. They're there, and she'll see that they stay until we come. We're invited for lunch.” “Including her sister?” “All of 'em.” He glanced at the clock, which said 11.23. “We should make it by one-thirty.” “Yeah, easy. I think I know where I can borrow an armoured car. The route goes within five miles of where a certain man has a palace on a hill.” He made a face. “Get the sedan.” “Okay, if you'll crouch on the floor or let me put you in the trunk. It's you he's interested in, not me. By the way, what about Fred and Orrie? I've phoned Saul and warned him that there are other elements involved besides the law boys, and I should think Fred and Orrie might take a day off. After you have a talk with the family, whatever you're going to say, you can have them pick it up again if that's the programme, which I hope to God it isn't.” He made that concession. I couldn't get Fred or Orrie, but they would certainly call in soon and word was left with Fritz to tell them to lay off until further notice. Then Wolfe had to go up to the roof for another look while I went to the garage for the car, so it was nearly noon when we got rolling. Wolfe, in the back seat as always, because that gave him a better chance to come out alive when we crashed, had a firm grip on the strap with his right hand, but that was only routine and didn't mean he was any shakier than usual when risking his neck in a thing on wheels. However, I noticed in the mirror that he didn't shut his eyes once the whole trip, although he hadn't been in bed for thirty hours now.
Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe - Second Confession Page 4