Curtains for Three

by Rex Stout

  Curtains for Three 133

  “Your notebook, Archie. This is rather elaborate, ad I doubt if we can finish before dinner.”

  XIV

  I’ll explain gladly,” I told Officer Hefferan, “if you’ll end from that horse and get level with me. That’s democratic way to do it. Do you want me to get a ‘ neck, slanting up at you?” I yawned wide without covering it, since there was kthiiig there but nature and a mounted cop. Being up dressed and breakfasted and outdoors working at yen in the morning was not an all-time record for 9t but it was unusual, and I had been up late three (its in a row: Tuesday the congregation of clients, inesday the festivities with Lily Rowan, and sday the drive to La Guardia to meet the air le, which had been on schedule. Hefferan came off his high horse and was even with 8. We were posted on top of the little knoll in Central rk to which he had led me the day I had made his ijuaintance. It promised to be another warm October y. A little breeze was having fun with the leaves on i trees and bushes, and birds were darting and hop ag around, discussing their plans for the morning. “All I’m doing,” Hefferan said to make it plain, “is eying orders. I was told to meet you here and listen you.”

  I nodded. “And you don’t care for it. Neither do I, stiff-backed Cossack, but I’ve got orders too. The ip is like this. As you know, down there behind that est”—I pointed—“is a tool shed. Outside the shed eyes’ chestnut horse, saddled and bridled, is being Bid by one of your colleagues. Inside the shed there

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  are two women named Keyes and Rooney, and four men named Pohl, Talbott, Safford, and Broadyke. Also Inspector Cramer is there with a detachment from his squad. One of the six civilians, chosen by secret ballot, is at this moment changing his or her clothes, putting on bright yellow breeches and a blue jacket, just like the outfit Keyes wore. Between you and me and your horse, the choosing was a put-up job, handled by Inspector Cramer. Dressed like Keyes, the chosen one is going to mount Keyes’ horse and ride along that stretch of the bridle path, with shoulders hunched and stirrups too long, catch sight of you, and lift his or her crop to you in greeting. Your part is to be an honest man. Pretend it’s not me telling you this, but someone you dearly love like the Police Commissioner. You are asked to remember that what you were interested in seeing was the horse, not the rider, and to put the question to yourself, did you actually recognize Keyes that morning, or just the horse and the getup?”

  I appealed to him earnestly. “And for God’s sake don’t say a word to me. You wouldn’t admit anything whatever to me, so keep your trap shut and save it for later, for your superiors. A lot depends on you, which may be regrettable, but it can’t be helped now.

  “If it won’t offend you for me to explain the theory of it, it’s this: The murderer, dressed like Keyes but covered with a topcoat, was waiting in the park uptown behind that thicket at half-past six, when Keyes first rode into the park and got onto the bridle path. If he had shot Keyes out of the saddle from a distance, even a short one, the horse would have bolted, so he stepped out and stopped Keyes, and got hold of the bridle before he pulled the trigger. One bullet for one. Then he dragged the body behind the thicket so it couldn’t be seen from the bridle path, since another

  Curtains for Three 135

  ly-morning rider might come along, took off his top Dr maybe a thin raincoat—and stuffed it under jacket, mounted the horse, and went for a ride ough the park. He took his time so as to keep to eyes’ customary schedule. Thirty minutes later, ap ng that spot”—I pointed to where the bridle emerged from behind the tree&—“he either saw i up here or waited until he did see you up here, and he rode on along that stretch, giving you the salute by lifting his crop. But the second he got of sight at the other end of the stretch he acted He got off the horse and just left it there, know t would make its way back to its own exit from the i, and he beat it in a hurry, either to a Fifth Ave bus or the subway, depending on where he was ied for. The idea was to turn the alibi on as soon as sible, since he couldn’t be sure how soon the horse be seen and the search for Keyes would be But at the worst he had established Keyes as alive at ten minutes past seven, down here on the etch, and the body would be found way uptown.” “I believe,” Hefferan said stiffly, “I am on record as

  I saw Keyes.” “Scratch it,” I urged him. “Blot it out. Make your I a blank, which shouldn’t—” I bit if off, deciding it ild be undiplomatic, and glanced at my wrist. “It’s minutes past seven. Where were you that morn g, on your horse or off?” >“On.”

  , “Then you’d better mount, to have it the same, t’s be particular—jump on! There he comes!” I admit the Cossack knew how to get on top of a j. He was erect in the saddle quicker than I would : had a foot in a stirrup, and had his gaze directed end of the stretch on the bridle path where it

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  came out of the trees. I also admit the chestnut horse looked fine from up there. It was rangy but not gangly, with a proud curve to its neck, and, as Hefferan had said, it had a good set of springs. I strained my eyes to take in the details of the rider’s face, but at that distance it couldn’t be done. The blue of the jacket, yes, and the yellow of the breeches, and the hunched shoulders, but not the face.

  No sound came from Hefferan. As the rider on the bridle path neared the end of the open stretch I strained my eyes again, hoping something would happen, knowing as I did what he would find confronting him when he rounded the sharp bend at the finish of the stretch—namely, four mounted cops abreast.

  Something happened all right, fast, and not on my list of expectations. The chestnut was out of sight around the bend not more than half a second, and then here he came back, on the jump, the curve gone out of his neck. But he or his rider had had enough of the bridle path. Ten strides this side of the bend the horse swerved sharp and darted off to the left, off onto the grass in one beautiful leap, and then dead ahead, due east toward Fifth Avenue, showing us his tail. Simultaneously here came the quartet of mounted cops, like a cavalry charge. When they saw what the chestnut had done their horses’ legs suddenly went stiff, slid ten feet in the loose dirt, and then sashayed for the bound onto the grass, to follow.

  Yells were coming from a small mob that had run out of the forest which hid the tool shed. And Hefferan left me. His horse’s ham jostled my shoulder as it sprang into action, and divots of turf flew through the air as it bounded down the slope to join the chase. The sound of gunshots came from the east, and that finished me. I would have given a year’s pay, anything up

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  a kingdom, for a horse, but, having none, I lit out nyway.

  Down the slope to the bridle path I broke records, at on the other side it was upgrade, and also I had to ige trees and bushes and jump railings. I was mak ; no detours to find crossings, but heading on a bee ne for the noises coming from the east, including tiother found of shots. One funny thing, even busy as was trying to cover ground, I was hoping they ouldn’t hit that chestnut horse. Finally the border of |e park was in sight, but I could see nothing moving, lough the noises seemed to be louder and closer, ght ahead was the stone wall enclosing the park, unsure which way to turn for the nearest en ice, I made for the wall, climbed it, stood panting, surveyed.

  I was at Sixty-fifth and Fifth Avenue. One block up, a park entrance, the avenue was so cluttered ; it was blocked. Cars, mostly taxis, were collecting ��� both fringes of the intersection, and the pedestrians i hadn’t already arrived were on their way, from all tions. A bus had stopped and passengers were out. The tallest things there were the horses. I the impression that there were a hell of a lot of s, but probably it wasn’t more than six or seven, ey were all bays but one, the chestnut, and I was 1-to see that it looked healthy as I cantered up the cement toward the throng. The chestnut’s saddle i empty.

  I was pushing my way through to the center when I in uniform grabbed my arm, and I’ll be damned if Seer Hefferan didn’t sing out, “Let him come, that’s Wolfe’s man Goodwin!” I
would have been glad > thank him cordially, but didn’t have enough breath

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  yet to speak. So I merely pushed on and, using only my eyes, got my curiosity satisfied.

  Victor Talbott, in blue jacket and yellow breeches, apparently as unhurt as the chestnut, was standing there with a city employee hanging onto each arm. His face was dirty and he looked very tired.

  XV

  “You will be glad to know,” I told Wolfe late that afternoon, “that none of these bills we are sending to our clients will have to be addressed care of the county jail. That would be embarrassing.”

  It was a little after six, and he was down from the plant rooms and had beer in front of him. I was at my typewriter, making out the bills.

  “Broadyke,” I went on, “claims that he merely bought designs that were offered him, not knowing where they came from, and he can probably make it stick. Dorothy has agreed on a settlement with Pohl and will press no charge. As for Dorothy, it’s hers now anyway, as you said, so what the hell. And Safford and Audrey can’t be prosecuted just for going to ride in the park, even if they omitted it in their statements just to avoid complications. By the way, if you wonder why they allocated fifteen per cent of our fee to a stable hand, he is not a stable hand. He owns that riding academy, by gum, so Audrey hasn’t sold out cheap at all—anything but. They’ll probably be married on horseback.”

  Wolfe grunted. “That won’t improve their chances any.”

  “You’re prejudiced about marriage,” I reproached him. “I may try it myself someday. Look at Saul,

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  down like a tent but absolutely happy. Speak; of Saul, why did you waste money having him and

  i phoning and calling on New York tailors?” “It wasn’t wasted,” Wolfe snapped. He can’t stand accused of wasting money. “There was a slim ace that Mr. Talbott had been ass enough to have costume made right here. The better chance, of e, was one of the cities he had recently visited, the best of all was the one farthest away. So I phoned Los Angeles first, and the Southwest ncy put five men on it. Also Saul and Orrie did things. Saul learned, for instance, that Mr. “Mfs room at the hotel was so situated that, by using ; and a side entrance, he could easily have left and led at that time of day without being recogl.” Wolfe snorted. “I doubt if Mr. Cramer even iered that. Why should he? He had taken that eman’s word that he had seen Mr. Keyes on a 8, alive and well, at ten minutes past seven.” 3”Good here,” I agreed. “But, assuming that it might s been the murderer, not Keyes, the cop had seen t on a horse, why did you immediately pick Talbott sit?”

  *I didn’t. The facts did. The masquerade, if there one, could have helped no one but Mr. Talbott, s an alibi for that moment at that spot would have useless for any of the others. Also the greeting nged at a distance with the policeman was an fttial of the plan, and only Mr. Talbott, who often s with Mr. Keyes, could have known there would be popportunity for it.”

  jpOkay,” I conceded. “And you phoned Pohl to find where Talbott had been recently. My God, Pohl helped on it! By the way, the Southwest icy put an airmail stamp on the envelope contain 140 Rex Stout

  ing their bill, so I guess they want a check Their part of the charge is reasonable enough, but that tailor wants three hundred bucks for making a blue jacket and a pair of yellow breeches.”

  “Which our clients will pay,” Wolfe said placidly. “It isn’t exorbitant. It was five o’clock in the afternoon there when they found him, and he had to be persuaded to spend the night at it, duplicating the previous order.”

  “Okay,” I conceded again. “I admit it had to be a real duplicate, label and all, to panic that baby. He had nerve. He gets his six-o’clock call at his hotel, says to wake him again at seven-thirty, beats it to the street without being seen, puts on his act, and gets back to his room in tune to take the seven-thirty call. And don’t forget he was committed right from the beginning, at half-past six, when he shot Keyes. From there on he had to make his schedule. Some nerve.”

  I got up and handed the bills, including copies of the itemized expense account, across to Wolfe for his inspection.

  “You know,” I remarked, sitting down again, “that was close to the top for a shock to the nervous system, up there this morning. When he got picked to double for Keyes that must have unsettled him a little to begin with^Then he gets ushered into the other room to change, and is handed a box that has on it ‘Cleever of Hollywood.’ He opens it, and there is an outfit exactly like the one he had had made, and had got well rid of somehow along with the gun, and there again is a label in the jacket, ‘Cleever of Hollywood.’ I’m surprised he was able to get it on and buttoned up, and walk out to the horse and climb into the saddle. He did have nerve. I suppose he intended just to keep on going, but as he rounded the bend there were the four mounted cops

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  flup went his nerves, and I don’t blame him. I

  I hadn’t the faintest idea, when I was phoning

  jat list of towns Pohl had given me—hey! Good

  ifolfe looked up. “What’s the matter?” Jive me back that expense list! I left out the f-five cents for Pohl’s sandwiches!”

  Disguise for Murder

  I felt like doing was go out for a walk, but I quite desperate enough for that, so I merely down to the office, shutting the door from the id me, went and sat at my desk with my feet ied back and closed my eyes, and took some reaths.

  made two mistakes. When Bill McNab, gar itor of the Gazette, had suggested to Nero Wolfe le members of the Manhattan Flower Club be to drop in some afternoon to look at the I should have fought it. And when the date ��� set and the invitations sent, and Wolfe had that Fritz and Saul should do the receiving at it door and I should stay up in the plant rooms jjpm and Theodore, mingling with the guests, if I an ounce of brains I would have put my foot But I hadn’t, and as a result I had been Up there hour and a half, grinning around and acting and happy. “No, sir, that’s not a brasso, it’s a “No, madam, I doubt if you could grow that in a living room—so sorry.” “Quite all right,

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  madam—your sleeve happened to hook it—it’ll bloom again next year.”

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been something for the eyes. It was understood that the Manhattan Flower Club was choosy about who it took in, but obviously its standards were totally different from mine. The men were just men, okay as men go, but the women! It was a darned good thing they had picked oh flowers to love, because flowers don’t have to love back. I didn’t object to their being alive and well, since after all I’ve got a mother too, and three aunts, and I fully appreciate them, but it would have been a relief to spot just one who could have made my grin start farther down than the front of my teeth.

  There had in fact been one—just one. I had got a glimpse of her at the other end of the crowded aisle as I went through the door from the cool room into the moderate room, after showing a couple of guys what a bale of osmundine looked like in the potting room. From ten paces off she looked absolutely promising, and when I had maneuvered close enough to make her an offer to answer questions if she had any, there was simply no doubt about it, and the first quick slanting glance she gave me said plainly that she could tell the difference between a flower and a man, but she just smiled and shook her head and moved on by with her companions, an older female and two males. Later I had made another try and got another brushoff, and still later, too long later, feeling that the damn grin might freeze on me for good if I didn’t take a recess, I had gone AWOL by worming my way through to the far end of the warm room and sidling on out.

  All the way down the three flights of stairs new guests were coming up, though it was then four o’clock. Nero Wolfe’s old brownstone house on West

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  ty-fifth Street had seen no such throng as that my memory, which is long and good. One flight I stopped off at my bedroom for a pack of cigaes, and anoth
er flight down I detoured to make the door of Wolfe’s bedroom was locked. In the i hall downstairs I halted a moment to watch Fritz tier, busy at the door with both departures and ?als, and to see Paul Panzer emerge from the front which was being used as a cloakroom, with one’s hat and topcoat. Then, as aforesaid, I en1 the office, shutting the door from the hall behind | went and sat at my desk with my feet up, leaned : and closed my eyes, and took some deep breaths, ‘had been there eight or ten minutes, and getting sed and a little less bitter, when the door opened !she came in. Her companions were not along. By tie she had closed the door and turned to me I |got to my feet, with a friendly leer, and had begun, i just sitting here thinking—” look on her face stopped me. There was nothong with it basically, but something had got it ‘kilter. She headed for me, got halfway, jerked to sank into one of the yellow chairs, and ted, “Could I have a drink?” Jpstairs her voice had not squeaked at all. I had

  otch?” I asked her. “Rye, bourbon, gin—” I just fluttered a hand. I went to the cupboard t a hooker of Old Woody. Her hand was shaking i took the glass, but she didn’t spill any, and she down in two swallows, as if it had been milk, i wasn’t very ladylike. She shuddered all over and 1 eyes. In a minute she opened them again and fptoarsely, the squeak gone, “Did I need that!” lore?”

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  She shook her head. Her bright brown eyes were moist, from the whisky, as she gave me a full straight look with her head tilted up. “You’re Archie Goodwin,” she stated.

  I nodded. “And you’re the Queen of Egypt?”

  “I’m a baboon,” she declared. “I don’t know how they ever taught me to talk.” She looked around for something to put the glass on, and I moved a step and reached for it. “Look at my hand shake,” she complained. “I’m all to pieces.”