by Rex Stout
“Not very long. I’m in the office and he was outside. I met him, I don’t know, maybe three months ago.”
“Did your father know him?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think they ever met. Father was-had left before Harry came to work there,Harry used to work on the Hewitt estate on the other side of Richdale.”
“So I understand. Do you know why he quit?”
“No, I didn’t know him then.”
“Have you any idea who killed him?”
“No,” she said.
I lifted a brow, not ostentatiously. She said it too quick and she shaded it wrong. There was enough change in tempo and tone to make it at least ten to one that she was telling a whopper. That was bad. Up to that everything had been wholesome and straightforward, and all of a sudden without any warning that big fly plopped in the milk. I cocked an eye at Fred, and of course he hadn’t caught it. But Wolfe had. His eyes had gone nearly shut.
He started after her. He kept it polite and friendly, but he went at her from every angle and direction. And for the second time that night he got the can sent back empty by a juvenile female. After a solid hour of it he didn’t have even a hint of what it was she was keeping tucked away under her hair, whether it was a suspicion or a fact or a deduction she had made from a set of circumstances. Neither did I. But she was sitting on some kind of lid, and she was smart enough to see that Wolfe knew it and was trying to jostle her off.
It was half past one when Fred Updegraff looked at his watch and stood up again and said it was late and he would take Miss Tracy home.
Wolfe shook his head. “She’s exhausted and it’s twenty-five miles and there are no trains. She can sleep here. I want to speak to her in the morning before she goes to the District Attorney’s office. Archie, will you please see that the north room is in order?”
That meant my room and my bed. Anne started to protest, but not with much spirit, and I went and got Fritz and took him upstairs with me to help change sheets and towels. As I selected a pajama suit for her from the drawer, tan with brown stripes, and put it on the turned down sheet, I reflected that things were moving pretty fast, considering that it was less than ten hours since she had first spoken to me and we never had actually been introduced. Fritz took my sheets and pillow and a blanket downstairs and I went up one flight to the plant rooms and cut three black orchids, one from each plant, and returned and put them in a vase on the bed table. Hewitt had given her one.
On my way downstairs I stopped at the door to the south room and listened. No sound. I tried the door; it was bolted on the inside. I knocked, not very loud. Rose’s voice came:
“Who is it?”
“Clark Gable,” I called. “Good night, Ruby.”
In the lower hall I met Anne coming out of the office, escorted by Fritz. I suppose it would have been more genteel to take her up myself, but it would have been a temptation to get sentimental there among my own furniture, so I told her good night and let her go. In the office Wolfe was alone, in his chair with his arms folded and his chin down; evidently Fred had departed. I began taking cushions from the couch and tossing them into a corner, getting ready to fix my bed.
“Two of them,” Wolfe growled.
“Two of what?”
“Women. Nannygoats.”
“Not Anne. She’s more like a doe. More like a gazelle.”
“Bah.”
“More like a swan.” I flipped a sheet over the couch and tucked it in. “I put three black orchids at her bedside. One from each plant.”
“I told Theodore to put them in the fumigating room.”
“He did. That’s where I found them.” I spread the blanket. “I thought we might as well get all the pleasure we can put out of them before they’re returned to Hewitt.”
“They’re not going to be returned.”
“Oh, I expect they are.” I hung my coat and vest over a chair and sat down to take off my shoes. “It seems a pity. Two girls up there in bed, and if you knew what they know, or probably what either one of them knows, you’d have it sewed up. Rose actually saw the murderer set the trap. I don’t know what Anne saw or heard, but she sure does. It’s a darned shame. With all your finesse���” I got my pants off. “��� all your extraordinary gifts���” I removed my shirt.”��� all your acknowledged genius, your supreme talent in the art of inquest���”
He got up and stalked from the room without a word. I called a cheery good night after him but heard no reply, and after performing a few bedtime chores such as bolting the front door, I laid me down to sleep.
I overdid it. With the house full of company, I intended to be up and about bright and early, but when something jangled my brain alive and I realized it was the phone ringing, I opened my eyes and glanced at my wrist and saw it was after eight o’clock. It was Saul Panzer on the phone calling from Salamanca. I put him through to Wolfe’s room and was told by Wolfe that no record would be required, which was his polite way of telling me to hang up, so I did. A trip to Fritz in the kitchen got me the information that Wolfe already had his breakfast tray, and so did Anne and Rose. I washed and dressed in a hurry, returned to the kitchen for my morning refreshment of grapefruit, ham and eggs, muffins and coffee, and was finishing my second cup when the doorbell rang. Fritz was upstairs at the moment, so I went for it, and through the glass panel saw it was Inspector Cramer, unattended.
The situation had aspects. Rose might come trotting downstairs any minute, and if she chose the minute that Cramer was in the hall, that would be the last we would see of Rose. But any delay in opening up would make Cramer suspicious. I swung the door open.
“Law and order forever,” I said cordially. “Come in.”
“Nuts,” he said, entering.
So for that incivility I let him hang up his hat and coat himself. By the time he had done that I had the door closed and was on the other side of him. He screwed up his face at me and demanded:
“Where is she?”
Chapter 8
I grinned to the best of my ability. “Now wait a minute,” I said in a grieved tone. “I’ve been up less than an hour and my brain’s not warmed up. In the first place, how could I know she was married? In the second-”
He made a noise and moved. I moved, sort of backward. The maneuver ended with me covering the foot of the stairs, which was across the hall from the door to the office, and him pressing forward without actually touching me. There I stopped and he had to.
“I’m going up to see Wolfe,” he said as if he meant it. “I am aware that he spends the morning with his goddamn posies and refuses to come down before eleven o’clock. So I’m going up. Stand aside.”
He moved again and we made contact (noun), but I merely held it. “This,” I said, “is pretty damn silly. I didn’t have to let you in and you know it, but I did. What do you think this is, the den of the White Slave King? This is Nero Wolfe’s home, and there’s his office where he receives callers, and for last year his income tax was eleven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars and eighty-three cents and he paid it last week. Do you remember what happened the time Purley took me down and charged me with interfering with an officer in the performance of his duty? Wasn’t that a picnic?”
He swung on his heel and tramped into the office. I followed, and shut the door, and stayed between him and it until he had sat down. Then, knowing I could move at least twice as fast as he could, I went to my desk.
“Now,” I inquired pleasantly, “where is who?”
He regarded me with a mean eye. “Last night,” he said, “one of Wolfe’s men took Anne Tracy from her home in Richdale. My man covering the house recognized him and phoned in. I had a man out front when they arrived here. Your man soon left, and so did the Updegraff boy, later, but she hasn’t left up to now. Where is she?”
So our little Rose was still safe. I locked my relief in my breast and looked crestfallen.
“I guess it’s your trick, Inspector,” I admitted. “Miss Tracy
is upstairs in my bed. She spent the night there.”
He got red. He’s a terrible prude. “See here, Goodwin-”
“No no no no,” I said hastily. “Rinse your mind out. I slept here on the couch. And I doubt if she’s in my bed at that, because she’s probably up and dressed. She has a date at the D.A.‘s office at ten o’clock, and it’s nine thirty now.”
“Then you admit she’s here.”
“Admit it? I’m proud of it.”
“Where is she, up with Wolfe?”
“I don’t know. I got up late. I just finished breakfast.”
“Find out. Tell her the appointment at the D.A.‘s office is off. I want to see her as soon as I finish with you.”
I plugged in the plant room extension and gave it a buzz. In a minute Wolfe’s voice was in my ear:
“Archie? It’s about time. Get Mr. Hewitt-”
“Hold it,” I put in. “Reporting bad luck. Inspector Cramer is sitting here glaring at me. Johnny was spotted last night, and Miss Tracy is not to go to the D.A.‘s office because Cramer wants to see her as soon as he gets through with me. He seems to be disgruntled about something.”
“Does he know who slept in the south room?”
“I think not. I’m sure not.”
“Very well. I’ll attend to that. Miss Tracy is here with me. She can go down whenever. Mr. Cramer is ready for her. Get Mr. Hewitt on the phone.”
“Right out loud?”
“Certainly.”
I disconnected and told Cramer, “Miss Tracy is up helping with the orchids and will be available when wanted. Excuse me.” I found Hewitt’s Long Island number and requested it, and finally got him via two butlers and a secretary, and put him through to Wolfe. Then I swiveled around and crossed my legs and clasped my hands back of my head.
“Okay, Inspector. I’m disengaged for the moment. What shall we talk about?”
“Murder.”
“Fine. Any particular murder?”
Cramer took a cigar from his pocket and put it in his mouth and took it out again. He was controlling himself. “I hand it to you,” he said. “For barefaced lying I’d play you on the nose. Up there yesterday. You didn’t know anyone or anything. But-” He put the cigar back in his mouth. “But you’ve been hanging around there all week. Every day. And then a man gets murdered and there you are. You and Nero Wolfe.”
I nodded sympathetically. “I admit it looks sinister. But as I told you yesterday, Wolfe sent me there to look at orchids.”
“There were no orchids in the Rucker and Dill exhibit.”
“No, but there was-you know what there was. You’ve seen her. And I’m only a man after all-”
“All right, clown it. Yesterday afternoon about twenty minutes past four you were seen by young Updegraff, with Wolfe and Lewis Hewitt, in the corridor back of the Rucker and Dill exhibit. What were you doing there?”
“Well.” I hesitated. “If I told you I was pulling the string that fired the shot that killed Harry Gould, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t. We were walking from one place to another place.”
“You didn’t mention yesterday that you were in that corridor at that time.”
“Excuse it. Oversight.”
“Maybe. What were you saying to Ruby Lawson yesterday?”
“Ruby-?” I frowned. “Oh. Her. You mean after I told Purley she was a Chinese spy. I was trying to date her up. You see, looking at Miss Tracy so much had aroused-”
“I’ll bet it had. Did you date her?”
“Yes.”
“When is it?”
“Not is it, was it. She didn’t keep it.”
“That’s too bad. What was in the note Miss Tracy’s father gave you to take to her?”
“Now, Inspector,” I said reprovingly. “I didn’t write the note and it wasn’t addressed to me.”
“Had you met her father before?”
“Never. Didn’t know him from Adam.”
“Wasn’t it peculiar that he entrusted a perfect stranger with an important message to his daughter at a time like that?”
“Not very. He saw me entering the office. People trust me on sight. It’s my face, especially my eyes.”
“I see. That talk Wolfe had to have with Lewis Hewitt.
So important he had to have it then and there, murder or no murder.”
Cramer chewed his cigar.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“So important he had to have you to take notes of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to see the notes you took.”
I shook my head regretfully. “Sorry, confidential business. Ask Wolfe.”
“I intend to. You won’t show me the notes?”
“Certainly not.”
“Very well. Now. Last but not least. Why did Wolfe send a man out to Richdale last night to get Anne Tracy?”
“Search me. I wasn’t here when he sent him.”
“Were you here when she came?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
I grinned at him. “When I was a kid out in Ohio we had a swell comeback for that. If someone said Well?’ to you, you said, ‘Enough wells will make a river.’ Wasn’t that a stunner?”
“You bet it was. Had Lewis Hewitt engaged Wolfe to arrange for payment to W. G. Dill of the amount Anne Tracy’s father had stolen, and get a release?”
I stared at him. “By golly, that’s an idea,” I said enthusiastically. “That’s pretty cute. Hewitt took her to dinner-”
The door opened and Fritz entered. I nodded at him.
“A young man,” Fritz said, being discreet.
“Who?” I asked. “Don’t mind the Inspector; he already knows everything in the world-”
Fritz didn’t get a chance to tell me, because the young man came bouncing in. It was Fred Updegraff. He stopped in the middle of the room, saw Cramer, said, “Oh,” looked at me and demanded:
“Where’s Miss Tracy?”
I surveyed him disapprovingly. “That’s no way to behave,” I told him. “Inspector Cramer is grilling me. Go to the front room and wait your turn-”
“No.” Cramer stood up. “Get Miss Tracy down here and I’ll take her to the front room. I want to see her before I have a talk with Wolfe, and then we can all go to the D.A.‘s office together.”
“The hell we can,” I remarked.
“The hell we can. Send for her.”
I sent Fritz. He used the elevator, since a lady was involved. In the office you could hear it creaking and groaning up, and pretty soon it came down again and jolted to a stop. When Anne entered Fred looked at her the way a blind man looks at the sun. I hoped I wasn’t that obvious, and anyway she wasn’t very sunny. She tried to greet us with a kind of smile, but with the red-rimmed eyes and the corners of the mouth down it certainly wasn’t the face that had stolen the show from a million flowers.
Cramer took her to the front room and shut the soundproof door behind him. I went to my desk and took advantage of this first chance to open the morning mail. Fred wandered around restlessly, looking at the titles of books on the shelves, and finally sat down and lit a cigarette.
“Am I in the way?” he asked.
“Not at all,” I assured him.
“Because if I am I can wait outdoors. Only I got a little chilly. I’ve been out there since eight o’clock.”
I abandoned the mail to swivel around and stare at him in awe.
“Good God,” I said, stupefied. “You win.” I waved a hand. “You can have her.”
“Have her?” He flushed. “What are you talking about? Who do you think you are?”
“Brother,” I said, “who I am can be left to the worms that eventually eat me, but I know who I am not. I am not a guy who swims the Hellespont, nor him who-he who flees the turmoil of battle to seek you know what on the silken cushions of Cleopatra’s barge. I’m not the type-”
The phone rang and I put the re
ceiver to my ear and heard Wolfe’s voice: “Archie, come up here.”
“Right away,” I said, and arose and asked Fred, “Which do you want, whisky or hot coffee?”
“Coffee, if it’s not-”
“Righto. Come with me.”
I turned him over to Fritz in the kitchen and mounted the three flights to the plant rooms. It was a sunny day and some of the mats were drawn, but mostly the glass was clear, especially in the first two rooms, and the glare and blaze of color was dazzling. In the long stretch where the germinating flasks were, of course the glass was painted. Theodore Horstmann was there examining the flasks. I opened the door into the potting room, and after taking one step stopped and sniffed. My nose is good and I knew that odor. One glance at Wolfe there on his special stool, which is more like a throne, showed me that he was alive, so I dived across to the wall and grabbed the valve to turn it. It was shut tight.
“What’s the matter?” Wolfe inquired peevishly.
“I smelled ciphogene. I still do.”
“I know. Theodore fumigated those plants a little while ago and opened the door too soon. There’s not enough to do any harm.”
“Maybe not,” I muttered, “but I wouldn’t trust that stuff on top of the Empire State Building on a windy day.” The door to the fumigating room was standing open and I glanced inside. The benches were empty, as well as I could tell in the half dark. It had no glass. The smell didn’t seem any stronger inside. I returned to Wolfe.
“How’s Mr. Cramer?” he asked. “Stewing?”
I looked at him suspiciously. His asking that, and the tone of his voice, and the expression on his face-any one would have been enough for me the way I knew him, and the three together made it so obvious that the only question was how he got that way.
I confronted him. “Which one did you crack?” I demanded. “Rose or Anne?”
“Neither,” he replied complacently. “I had an hour’s talk with Miss Lasher while you were still sleeping, and later some conversation with Miss Tracy. They still clutch their secrets. When Mr. Hewitt-”
“Then where did you lap up all the cream? What are you gloating about?”
“I’m not gloating.” He cocked his massive head on one side and rubbed his nose with a forefinger. “It is true that I have conceived a little experiment.”