by Rex Stout
No one said a word.
“I ask you individually. Miss Nichols?”
Janet shook her head. Her voice was barely audible. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
“Mr. Huddleston?”
Daniel said promptly, “I have no idea.”
“Miss Timms?”
“I don’t know,” Maryella said, and by the way Wolfe’s eyes stayed with her an instant, I saw that he knew she was lying.
“Dr. Brady?”
“If I knew I’d tell you,” Brady said, “but I don’t.”
“Mr. Huddleston?”
Larry was waiting for him with a fixed smile that twisted a corner of his mouth. “I told you before,” he said harshly, “that I don’t know a damn thing. That goes right down the line.”
“Indeed. May I have your watch a moment, please?”
Larry goggled at him.
“That hexagonal thing on your wrist,” Wolfe said. “May I see it a moment?”
Larry’s face displayed changes, as Brady’s had shortly before. First it was puzzled, then defiant, then he seemed to be pleased about something. He snarled:
“What do you want with my watch?”
“I want to look at it. It’s a small favor. You haven’t been very helpful so far.”
Larry, his lips twisted with the smile again, unbuckled the strap and arose to pass the watch across the desk to Wolfe, whose fingers closed over it as he said to me:
“The Huddleston folder, Archie.”
I went and unlocked the cabinet and got out the folder and brought it, Wolfe took it and flipped it open and said:
“Stay there, Archie. As a bulwark and a witness. Two witnesses would be better. Dr. Brady, if you will please stand beside Mr. Goodwin and keep your eyes on me? Thank you.”
Wolfe’s eyes went through the gap between Brady and me to focus on Larry. “You are a very silly young man, Mr. Huddleston. Incredibly callow. You were smugly gratified because you thought I was expecting to find a picture of Miss Nichols in your watch case and would be chagrined not to. You were wrong. Now, doctor, and Archie, please observe. Here is the back of the watch. Here is a picture of Miss Nichols, trimmed to six sides, and apparently to fit. The point could be definitely determined by opening the watch case, but I’m not going to, because it will be opened later and microscopically compared with the picture to prove that it did contain it-Archie!”
I bulwarked. I owed Larry a smack anyhow, for bad manners if nothing else, but I didn’t actually deliver it, since all he did was shoot off his mouth and try to shove through Brady and me to make a grab for the watch. So I merely stiff-armed him and propelled him backwards into his chair and stood ready.
“So,” Wolfe went on imperturbably, “I put the watch and picture inside separate envelopes for safekeeping. Thus. If, Mr. Huddleston, you are wondering how I got that picture, your aunt left it here. I suggest that it is time for you to help us a little, and I’ll start with a question that I can make a test of. When did your aunt take that picture from you?”
Larry was trying to sneer, but it wasn’t working very well. His face couldn’t hold it because some of the muscles were making movements of their own.
“Probably,” Wolfe said, “it’s time to let the police in. I suppose they’ll get along faster with you-”
“You fat bastard!” But the snarl in Larry’s voice had become a whine.
Wolfe grimaced. “I’ll try once more, sir. You are going to answer these questions, if not for me then for someone less fat but more importunate. Would you rather have it dug out of the servants and your friends and acquaintances? It’s shabby enough as it is; that would only make it worse. When did your aunt take that picture from you?”
Larry’s jaw worked, but his tongue didn’t. Wolfe waited ten seconds, then said curtly:
“Let them in, Archie.”
I took a step, but before I took another one Larry blurted:
“Goddamn you! You know damn well when she took it! She took it the day she came down here!”
Wolfe nodded. “That’s better. But that wasn’t the first time she objected to your relations with Miss Nichols. Was
it?”
“No.”
“Did she object on moral grounds?”
“Hell, no. She objected to our getting married. She ordered me to break off the engagement. The engagement was secret, but she got suspicious and questioned Janet, and Janet told her, and she made me call it off.”
“And naturally you were engaged.” Wolfe’s voice was smooth, silky. “You burned for revenge-”
“I did not!” Larry leaned forward, having trouble to control his jaw. “You can come off that right now! You’re not going to pin anything on me! I never really wanted to marry her, and what’s more, I never intended to! I can prove that by a friend of mine!”
“Indeed.” Wolfe’s eyes were nearly shut. “A man like you has friends? I suppose so. But after your aunt made you break the engagement you still kept the picture in your watch?”
“Yes. I had to. I mean I had Janet to deal with too, and it wasn’t easy, living right there in the house. I was afraid of her. You don’t know her. I opened the watch case purposely in front of my aunt so she’d take that damn picture. Janet seemed to think the picture meant something, and I thought when she knew it was gone-”
“Did you know that Miss Nichols sent the anonymous letters?”
“No, I didn’t. Maybe I suspected, but I didn’t know.”
“Did you also suspect, when your aunt-”
“Stop! Stop it!”
It was Janet.
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. The tone alone was enough to stop anything and anybody. It was what you would expect to come out of an old abandoned grave, if you had such expectations. Except her mouth, no part of her moved. Her eyes were concentrated on Wolfe’s face, with an expression in them that made it necessary for me to look somewhere else. Apparently it had the same effect on the others, for they did the same as me. We gazed at Wolfe.
“Ha,” he said quietly. “A little too much for you, is it, Miss Nichols?”
She went on staring at him.
“As I expected,” he said, “you’re all rubble inside. There’s nothing left of you. The simplest way is for me to dictate a confession and you sign it. Then I’ll send a copy of it to a man I know, the editor of the Gazette, and it will be on his front page this evening. He would like an exclusive picture of you to go with it, and Mr. Goodwin will be glad to take it. I know you’ll like that.”
Uh-huh, I thought, he’s not only going to make a monkey of Cramer, he’s going to give him a real black eye. Daniel muttered something, and so did Brady, but Wolfe silenced them with a gesture.
“For your satisfaction,” he went on, “I ought to tell you, Miss Nichols, that your guilt was by no means obvious. I became aware of it only when Mr. Goodwin telephoned me from Riverdale this morning, though I did of course notice Mr. Larry Huddleston’s hexagonal watch when he came here nine days ago, and I surmised your picture had been in it. But your performance today was the act of a nitwit. I presume you were struck with consternation yesterday when you saw that turf being removed, realized what the consequences would be, and attempted to divert suspicion by staging an attack on yourself. Did you know what I was getting at a while ago when I asked Dr. Brady why you didn’t jerk the brush away the instant you felt the glass puncture your skin? And he replied, as of course he would, that you didn’t feel the glass cutting you?”
She didn’t answer.
“That,” Wolfe said, “was precisely the point, that you did jerk the brush away when you had pulled it along your arm less than an inch, because you knew the glass was there and was cutting you, having put it there yourself.
Otherwise the cut would have been much longer, probably half the length of your arm. You saw Mr. Goodwin wield the brush as an illustration, sweeping from wrist to shoulder. Everyone does that. At least, no one moves the brush less than an inch and
stops. But even without that, your performance today was fantastic, if you meant-as you did-to make it appear as an attempt by some other person to kill you. Such a person would have known that after what had happened, even if you used the bogus iodine, you would certainly have antitoxin administered, which would have made the attempt a fiasco. Whereas you, arranging the affair yourself, knew that a dose of antitoxin would save you from harm. You really-”
“Stop it!” Janet said, in exactly the same tone as before. I couldn’t look at her.
But that was a mistake, not looking at her. For completely without warning she turned into a streak of lightning. It was so sudden and swift that I was still in my chair when she grabbed the sliver of glass from Wolfe’s desk, and by the time I got going she had whirled and gone through the air straight at Larry Huddleston, straight at his face with the piece of glass in her fingers. Everyone else moved too, but no one fast enough, not even Larry. Daniel got his arms around her, her left arm pinned against her, and I got her other arm, including the wrist, but there was a red streak across Larry’s cheek from beneath his eye nearly to his chin.
Everybody but Janet was making noises, some of which were words.
“Shut up!” Wolfe said gruffly. “Archie, if you’ve finished your nap-”
“Go to hell,” I told him. “I’m not a genius like you.” I gave Janet’s wrist a little pressure. “Drop it, girlie.”
She let the piece of glass fall to the floor and stood rigid, watching. Brady examined Larry’s cheek.
“Only skin deep,” Brady said, unfolding a handkerchief. “Here, hold this against it.”
“By God,” Larry blurted, “if it leaves a scar-”
“That was a lie,” Janet said. “You lied!”
“What?” Larry glared at her.
“She means,” Wolfe put in, “that you lied when you said you neither desired nor intended to marry her. I agree with her that the air was already bad enough in here without that. You fed her passion and her hope. She wanted you, God knows why. When your aunt intervened, she struck. For revenge? Yes. Or saying to your aunt, preparing to say, ‘Let me have him or I’ll ruin you?’ Probably. Or to ruin your aunt and then collect you from the debris? Possibly. Or all three, Miss Nichols?”
Janet, her back to him, still facing Larry, did not speak. I held onto her.
“But,” Wolfe said, “your aunt came to see me, and that frightened her. Also, when she herself came that evening and found that picture here, the picture you had carried in your watch, she was not only frightened but enraged. Being a very sentimental young woman-”
“Good God,” Brady muttered involuntarily. “Sentimental!”
A shudder ran over Janet from top to bottom. I pulled her around by the arm and steered her to the red leather chair and she dropped into it. Wolfe said brusquely:
“Archie, your notebook. No-first the camera-”
“I can’t stand it!” Maryella cried, standing up. She reached for something to hold onto, and as luck would have it, it was Brady’s arm. “I can’t!”
Wolfe frowned at them. “Take her up and show her the orchids, doctor. Three flights. And take that casualty along and patch it up. Fritz will get what you need. I advise you to smell the iodine.”
At six o’clock that evening I was at my desk. The office was quiet and peaceful. Wolfe had done it up brown. Cramer had come like a lion with a squad and a warrant, and had departed like a lamb with a flock of statements, a confession, a murderer, and apoplexy. Despite all of which, loving Cramer as I do, when I heard the elevator bringing Wolfe down from the plant rooms I got too busy with my desk work to turn around. Intending not even to acknowledge his presence. The excuse he had given for keeping Maryella there was that it was impossible for her to return to Riverdale as things stood, and there was no place else for her to go. Phooey.
But I got no chance to freeze them out, for they went right on by the office door, to the kitchen. I stuck to my desk. Time went by, but I was too irritated to get any work done. Towards seven o’clock the bell rang, and I went to the front door and found Doc Brady. He said he had been invited, so I took him to the kitchen.
The kitchen was warm, bright, and full of appetizing smells. Fritz was slicing a ripe pineapple. Wolfe was seated in the chair by the window, tasting out of a steaming saucepan. Maryella was perched on one end of the long table with her legs crossed, sipping a mint julep. She fluttered the fingers of her free hand at Brady for a greeting. He stopped in astonishment, and stood and blinked at her, at Wolfe and Fritz, and back at her.
“Well,” he said. “Really. I’m glad you can be so festive. Under the circumstances-”
“Nonsense!” Wolfe snapped. “There’s nothing festive about it; we’re merely preparing a meal. Miss Timms is much better occupied. Would you prefer hysterics? We had a discussion about spoon bread, and there are two batches in the oven. Two eggs, and three eggs. Milk at a hundred and fifty degrees, and boiling. Take that julep she’s offering you. Archie, a julep?”
Brady took the julep from her, set it down on the table without sampling it, wrapped his arms around her, and made it tighter. She showed no inclination to struggle or scratch. Wolfe pretended not to notice, and placidly took another taste from the saucepan. Fritz started trimming the slices of pineapple.
Maryella gasped, “Ah think, Ah’d bettah breathe.” Wolfe asked amiably, “A julep, Archie?” I turned without answering, went to the hall and got my hat, slammed the door from the outside, walked to the corner and into Sam’s place, and climbed onto a stool at the counter. I didn’t know I was muttering to myself, but I must have been, for Sam, behind the counter, demanded: “Spoon bread? What the hell is spoon bread?” “Don’t speak till you’re spoken to,” I told him, “and give me a ham sandwich and a glass of toxin. If you have no toxin, make it milk. Good old wholesome orangutan milk. I have been playing tag with an undressed murderess. Do you know how to tell a murderess when you see one? It’s a cinch. Soak her in iodine over night, drain through cheesecloth, add a pound of pig chitlins-what? Oh. Rye and no pickle. Ah think Ah’d bettah breathe.”
I have never mentioned it to him, and I don’t intend to. I’ve got a dozen theories about it. Here are a few for samples:
1. He knew I would go to the funeral, and he sent that bunch of orchids purely and simply to pester me.
2. Something from his past. When he was young and handsome, and Bess Huddleston was ditto, they might have been-uh, acquainted. As for her not recognizing him, I doubt if his own mother would, as is. And there’s no doubt he has fifteen or twenty pasts; I know that much about him.
3. He was paying a debt. He knew, or had an idea, that she was going to be murdered, from something someone said that first day, and was too damn lazy, or too interested in corned beef hash with chitlins, to do anything about it. Then when she was ready for burial he felt he owed her something, so he sent her what? Just some orchids, any old orchids? No, sir. Black ones. The first black orchids ever seen on a coffin anywhere on the globe since the dawn of history. Debt canceled. Paid in full. File receipted bills.
4. I’ll settle for number three.
5. But it’s still a mystery, and when he catches me looking at him a certain way he knows darned well what’s on my mind.
A.G.
THE END
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Table of Contents
BLACK ORCHIDS
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
CORDIALLY INVITED TO MEET DEATH
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Ch
apter 7
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Document version: 1
Document creation date: 30.4.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.13 software
Document authors :
Rex Stout
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