by Rex Stout
It didn’t amount to much that time. I have had several conversations in that building that lasted more than six hours, one that lasted fourteen hours, and two that ended by my being locked up as a material witness. That day Mandel and two Homicide Bureau dicks let me go in less than two hours, partly because I had the signed statement with me, partly because they weren’t officially interested in the kidnaping since that had been a Westchester job, and partly because they were by no means sure Jimmy Vail’s death had been a homicide and if it wasn’t that would be okay with them. A dick has enough grief dealing with riffraff, and he would prefer to have no part of Tedders and Vails. So after going through the routine motions for an hour and a half they shooed me out, and at a quarter past six I was paying a hackie in front of the old brownstone and climbing out. As my foot touched the sidewalk, someone grabbed my arm and pronounced my name, and I wheeled.
It was Noel Tedder. “Who the hell does this Nero Wolfe think he is?” he squeaked.
“It depends on his mood.” I moved my arm, but he had a grip. “Let go of my arm, I might need it. Why, did he bounce you?”
“I haven’t been in. First I was told through a crack to come back after six, and I did. Then I was told Wolfe was busy—‘engaged,’ he said. I asked for you and was told you were out and he didn’t know when you’d be back. I said I’d come in and wait, and he said I wouldn’t. What does it take, a passport?”
“Did you give your name?”
“Certainly.”
“Did you say what you want to see him about?”
“No. I’ll tell him.”
“Not unless you tell me first. Not only is that the routine, but also he’s had a hard day. There was no homemade blackberry jam for breakfast, he had to skip his morning turn with the orchids, a police inspector came and annoyed him, and he had to read a long statement and sign it. If you tell me what you want, there may be a chance. If you don’t, it’s hopeless.”
“Out here?”
“We can sit on the stoop if you’d rather.”
He turned his head to look at a man and woman who were passing. He needed a shave. He also needed either a haircut, a comb and brush, or a hat, and his plaid jacket and striped slacks could have stood a little pressing. When the man and woman were ten paces away his eyes came back to me.
“I’ve got a chance to make a pot but I can’t do it alone. I don’t even know how to start. My mother told me that if I can find the money she paid the kidnapers, or any part of it, I can have it. Half a million. I want Wolfe to help me. He can have a fifth of it for his share.”
My brows were up. “When did your mother tell you that?”
“Wednesday evening.”
“She may feel different about it now.”
“No, she doesn’t. I asked her this afternoon. She’s not very—she’s in pretty bad shape—but I didn’t think it would hurt to ask her. She said yes. She said she wouldn’t want any of that money now anyhow.”
My brows were still up. “The police know about the kidnaping. And the FBI.”
“I don’t know about the FBI. We told the police this morning.”
“Dozens of trained men are on the job already. By tomorrow there’ll be hundreds. Fat chance you’d have.”
“Damn it, I know I wouldn’t! That’s why I’ve got to have Nero Wolfe! Isn’t he better than they are?”
“That’s a point.” I was looking at another point. We had never taken a crack at that kind of problem, and if Wolfe could be peekayed into tackling it, it would be interesting to see how he went about it. It would also be interesting to collect his share if there was anything to share.
“I’ll tell you,” I said. “I doubt very much if Mr. Wolfe will touch it. He’s not only eccentric, he hates to work, and he seldom takes a case on a contingent basis. But I’m willing to put it up to him. You may come inside to wait.”
“If you can get inside,” he squeaked. That tenor didn’t fit his make-up at all.
“I can try,” I said, and made for the stoop, and he followed me up. The chain-bolt was on, so I had to push the button. If Fritz, letting us in, was surprised to see me bringing a customer who had been turned away twice, he didn’t show it. Fritz shows only what he thinks it is proper to show. I took Tedder to the front room and left him, and went to the office by way of the hall instead of the connecting door. Wolfe, at his desk, had the middle drawer open and was fingering in it. Counting caps of beer bottles to see how much he had gained on the week’s quota by being away twenty-four hours. I waited to speak until he shut the drawer and looked up.
“Regards from Mandel. I didn’t see the DA. They probably won’t bother us again unless and until they have to decide that Jimmy Vail didn’t die by accident, which they would hate to do. You have seen the Gazette?”
“Yes.”
“Any comment?”
“No.”
“Then I’m still not fired. I’m taking a leave of absence without pay. Say a month, but it may be more.”
His lips tightened. He took a deep breath. “Are you bent on vexing me beyond endurance?”
“No, sir. I want to grab an opportunity. When I arrived just now Noel Tedder was there on the sidewalk, vexed beyond endurance because you wouldn’t see him. His mother told him Wednesday that he could have the money she paid the kidnaper if he could find it and get it, and he came to offer you a one-fifth share to help him. Of course you wouldn’t be interested now that you only take cases where all you have to do is put a notice in the paper, so I’m going to tell him I’ll take it on myself. I took the liberty of putting him in the front room. I thought I ought to tell you first. Of course it’s long odds, but if I got it, the whole pile, my cut would be a hundred grand and I could quit vexing you and open my own office, maybe with Saul Panzer for a partner, and we could—”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, sir. That will be one advantage, you won’t have to bellow—”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, sir.”
He regarded me, not with affection. “So you expect to badger me into this fantastic gamble.”
“You might take a minute out to look at it. It would be satisfactory to find something that ten thousand cops and FBI men will be looking for. And each year when you top the eighty-per-cent bracket you relax. I admit it’s a big if, but if you raked this in and added it to what you’ve already collected this year, you could relax until winter, and it’s not May yet. If you missed, you would only be out expenses. As for my badgering you, we have nothing in prospect, and if I take a month off Fritz can dust your desk and empty the wastebasket and you can open the mail.”
“That’s bluster. You wouldn’t.”
“The hell I wouldn’t.”
He closed his eyes, probably to contemplate the rosy possibility of months and months with no work to do and no would-be customers admitted. In a minute he opened them and muttered, “Very well, bring him in.”
7
As Noel Tedder sat in the red leather chair and crossed his legs, showing blue and yellow socks beneath the striped slacks. Wolfe surveyed him. He had to adjust to the outfit. I have heard him say that men who wear conventional clothes are sheep, but I have also heard him say that men who wear unconventional clothes are popinjays. You can’t win.
Tedder asked him if I had told him what he wanted, and Wolfe nodded. He spoke. “The most unpromising enterprise I have ever been asked to undertake, if Mr. Goodwin understood you and I understood him. Mrs. Vail, your mother, told you that if you recovered the money she paid to ransom her husband, you could keep it; and if I help you, you will pay me one-fifth of what we recover if we’re successful, and nothing if we fail. Is that it?”
“That’s it. Of course I—”
“If you please. When did your mother tell you that?”
“Wednesday evening. And again this afternoon. With Jimmy gone—my stepfather—I thought I’d better ask her.”
“Wednesday evening, did she broach it or did you?”
“Bring it up. Introduce the idea.”
“I don’t remember. Does that matter?”
“It may. If you suggested it a conjecture enters. That you knew where the money was and you wanted to get it in a manner that would entitle you—don’t interrupt—entitle you to keep it. You come to me for help because you can’t very well just go and get it and produce it. You will give me hints, cannily of course, and guided by them Mr. Goodwin, under my direction, will find the money. Even if your hints have made me smell a rat, I’ll hold my nose and take my share. So who broached it, your mother or you?”
Tedder tittered. I don’t want to give a false impression, especially since I have mentioned his tenor. Men do titter. “Jesus,” he said, “that would be pups. That would be sharp. But how would I know where it is?”
“You would know where you put it Tuesday night after you or your confederate took it from your mother on Iron Mine Road.”
“Huh?” He was squinting. “You’ve lost me. Say it again.”
Wolfe wiggled a finger. “Mr. Tedder. You have come to me with an extraordinary proposal, and naturally my first question is what about you? Did you kidnap your stepfather?”
“Balls. He might have recognized me.”
“Did you have a hand in the kidnaping? Yes or no.”
“No. N, O, no.” Tedder was still squinting. “Got a Bible?”
“That wouldn’t establish it. If I assume your good faith, where are we? It would be witless to try to compete with the intricate and expert routine of the army of official investigators. If we start at all it must be from a point chosen by us and overlooked by them. Before I accept or decline your proposal I must know if you will agree with me on that point; and first of all I must ask, what if we find the money and your mother repudiates her engagement to let you keep it?”
“She won’t.”
“She might.”
Tedder shook his head. “Four people besides me heard her say it—my sister Margot, her brother Ralph, Frost, the lawyer, and Jimmy. Of course Jimmy’s dead.”
“She still might. I must tell you that, if she does, my share will be legally collectible and I’ll collect it.”
“Sure, why not? You won’t have to. My mother won’t renege. What’s the point I have to agree on?”
“It’s a series of assumptions, and you may not like them. The first and basic one is that Mr. Vail’s death was not an accident. He was murdered.”
“Huh?” Tedder uncrossed his legs and sat up. “He pulled that goddam statue over on him.”
“No.” Wolfe was emphatic. “I concede that that’s conceivable; it may even be sufficiently plausible for the police to accept it; but I reject it. There is no implication in the published accounts that he was drunk. Was he?”
“No.”
“Had he been drinking?”
“He had had a couple, not more. His usual, bourbon and water. He could handle half a dozen. He wasn’t even started. He was just sleepy. He said he couldn’t keep his eyes open and went to the couch.”
“And later, after you and the others had gone— Did you turn the lights off when you left?”
“All but one. Mother said to leave one on.”
“A good light?”
“Fairly good. A floor lamp by the wall.”
“And he awoke enough to realize where he was, leave the couch, stand, and walk; and, losing his balance, he caught at the statue, which was insecure, and brought it down on him. It’s possible, but I don’t believe it. I do not believe that a man awake enough to walk would be so befuddled that he couldn’t dodge a falling statue. Was it on a direct line from the couch to the door?”
“Not direct, but not far out.” Tedder was squinting again. “You said murder. How? Was he so sound asleep that he didn’t wake up when someone dragged him off the couch and over to the statue and pushed it over on him? Do you believe that?”
“No. He was drugged.”
“The hell he was.”
“He must have been. In one of his drinks. The handiest assumption is chloral hydrate, which is easily procured. In solution in an alcoholic beverage it has almost no taste. A moderate dose induces a deep sleep approaching coma. It decomposes rapidly and will not be detected by an autopsy unless it is performed within three or four hours after death, and even then the only reliable test is identification of urochloralic acid in the urine. That test is made only when chloral hydrate is specifically suspected, and with Mr. Vail I doubt if it was. I am not parading; I had this surmise yesterday and consulted a book.”
He hadn’t mentioned it to me; it would have been admitting that Jimmy Vail’s death might possibly be of interest to us. We had several books on toxicology on the shelves, but he hadn’t been here yesterday, so he must have found one when he was going over Doc Vollmer’s shelves. I had had personal experience of chloral hydrate, having once been served a Mickey Finn by a woman named Dora Chapin. Two hours after I had swallowed it you could have rowed me out to Bedloe’s Island and pushed the Statue of Liberty onto me and I wouldn’t have batted an eye.
Wolfe was going on. “So that Mr. Vail was murdered with deliberation may properly be called a deduction, not an assumption. Not a final deduction, but a basic one, for it is the ground for my assumptions. Whether you like it or not, do you concur?”
“I don’t know.” Tedder’s tongue showed between his lips. “Go on with your assumptions.”
“They’re purely tentative, to establish a starting point. But first another deduction, made three days ago, on Tuesday, by Mr. Goodwin and me. Dinah Utley, your mother’s secretary, was implicated in the kidnaping, and not indirectly or passively. She had an active hand in it. Her death—”
“How do you know that?”
“By observed evidence and interpretation of it. I’ll reserve it. I’m exposing my position, Mr. Tedder, because I have to if you’re going to occupy it with me, but I need not reveal all the steps that have led to it. I’m taking your good faith as a working hypothesis, but there is still that conjecture—that you had a part in the kidnaping and you know where the money is. If so, it was an egregious blunder to come to me. I’ll get my share of the money, and you’ll get your share of doom. Do you want to withdraw before I commit myself to this mad gamble? Do you want to leave?”
“Hell no. You talk a lot and you talk big.”
“I hope to the point—our starting point. I am almost there. Miss Utley was involved in the kidnaping and was murdered. Mr. Vail was the victim of the kidnaping and was murdered. My assumptions are, first, that both murders were consequential to the kidnaping operation; and second, that the person who killed Mr. Vail, with premeditation since he drugged him, being involved in the kidnaping, knows where the money is. He was present at the gathering at that house Wednesday evening. Therefore, if we are to find the money, our starting point is that house and its occupants. If you will proceed from that point with me, I’ll accept your proposal.”
Tedder was chewing his lips. “Jesus,” he said. He chewed some more. “The way you put it … I guess I’m in over my head. You’re saying one of them killed Jimmy—Uncle Ralph or Frost or my sister.”
“Or your mother or you.”
“Sure, we were there.” He shook his head. “Holy Christ. My mother, that’s crazy. Me, I liked Jimmy. He couldn’t see me, but I liked him. Uncle Ralph—”
“That’s irrelevant, Mr. Tedder. The murder resulted from the kidnaping—my assumption. The kidnaper wished him no harm and rendered him none; he only wanted the money. Logically that excludes your mother, but not you. There are several possibilities. For one, Miss Utley was killed because she demanded too large a share of the loot. For another, Mr. Vail was killed because he had learned that one of those present Wednesday evening was responsible for the kidnaping, and of course that wouldn’t do. We ignore the mysterious Mr. Knapp perforce, because we don’t know who or where he is. Presumably he was a confederate whose chief function was to make the phon
e calls, but he may also have got the money from your mother, since he spoke to her, and if he has bolted with it, we’re done before we start. We could expose the murderer, to no profit, but that’s all. I say ‘we.’ Is it ‘we’? Do we proceed?”
“How?”
“First I would need to speak at length, separately, with those who were present Wednesday evening, beginning with you. You would have to bring them here, or send them, by some pretext—or some inducement, perhaps a share of the money. Then I’ll see.”
“Great. Just great. I ask them—my sister, for instance—to come and let you grill her to find out if she kidnaped Jimmy and then killed him. Great.”
“You might manage to put it more tactfully.”