Please Pass the Guilt

by Rex Stout

  "Indeed." "Yes. Of course you know there were two doors to Browning's room--one from the anteroom, Helen Lugos's room, and one from the hall. And here's another thing I have to admit, another reason I haven't told the police: that Monday afternoon I entered Browning's room by the door from the hall when I knew he wasn't there. It was right after lunch, and I--" "Wasn't that door locked?" "Not always. When Browning left by that door to go down the hall to the rear, he usually pushed the button on the lock so he could go back in without using his key. I wanted to look at something I knew was on his desk, and I knew he wasn't there, so I tried that door and it opened. I didn't make any noise because I didn't want to be interrupted by Helen Lugos, and the door to her room was half open, and I could hear 118 Please Pass the Guilt voices�hers and Kenneth Meer's. Mostly his. I suppose this is being recorded." "Yes." "Of course. What isn't?" He took a notebook from his pocket and opened it. "So I'd better read it. The first thing I heard him say�he said, 'No, I'm not going to tell you how I found out. That doesn't matter anyway, I did find out. Odell is going to dope that bottle of whisky with LSD tomorrow afternoon, or he thinks he is, and I want to be damn sure you don't open the drawer to take a look at the usual time. Don't open it any time after lunch. Don't open it at all, don't go near it, because� well, don't.' And she said, 'But Ken, you'll have to tell me� Wait. I'd better make sure�' And there was the sound of her pushing her chair back." The fingertips were at it again, this time on his knee. "So I got out quick. She was probably going to come to make sure there was no one in Browning's room. I hadn't got to the desk, I was only a couple of steps from the door�I had left it open a crack�and I got out fast. I didn't go back to my room because there's another man in it with me and I wanted to be alone, so I went to the men's room and sat on the John to think it over. Of course what I wanted to do, I wanted to tell Browning. Maybe Meer was going to tell him but from what he said it didn't sound like it. But I didn't want to tell Browning I had entered his room by the hall door�of course I didn't. And I didn't know what Meer intended to do. I knew he intended to do something since he had told her not to go near the drawer, but what? What would you have thought he intended to do?" Wolfe shook his head. "I don't know him. You did." "Sure, I knew him, but not well enough for that. For instance, I thought he might wait until about four o'clock Tuesday and then take the bottle from the drawer and put another bottle in its place, and have the whisky analyzed and have the bottle checked for fingerprints. He knew Browning never took a drink until about half past four or a quarter to five, when the program Please Pass the Guilt 119 scripts had all been okayed. I considered all the possibilities, what / could do, and the one thing I had to do was make sure that Browning didn't drink any doped whisky. So I decided to be there in the room with him Tuesday when he okayed the last script--1 usually was--and when he got the bottle out, I would say that there was nothing Odell wouldn't do to get the president's job, and it might be a good idea to open the other bottle. There was always another bottle there, unopened, often two." "You knew that," Wolfe said. "Sure, several of us did. Often a couple of us were there when he opened the drawer. One thing I considered: tell Browning that I had heard Meer say that to Helen, but not that I had been in his room. But that would have been very tricky because where was I and where were they? You may know that a lot of people think I want Meer's job." "That has been said, yes." "Maybe I do and maybe I don't. I want to get on, sure, who doesn't, but it doesn't have to be his job. Anyway, I had to consider that too. Of course if I had known what Meer was going to do, if I had even suspected it, I would have gone straight to Browning and told him just like it was. I didn't and of course I regret it." "You're assuming that Meer had decided to put a bomb in the drawer?" "Certainly. My God, don't I have to? Didn't I have to?" "You made that assumption that day--the next day? When you learned what had happened?" "I certainly did." "Five weeks ago. Five weeks and two days. What have you done to verify it?" Copes nodded. "It's easy to ask that. What could I have done? Could I ask people if they had seen Meer with a bomb? Could I ask them if they had seen him go into Browning's room? Could I ask Helen Lugos anything? Could I hire a detective? Naturally you're thinking I may have cooked this up. 120 Please Pass the Guilt Of course you are. You'd be a damn fool if you didn't. But there's one detail, one fact, that you have to consider. As I said, you probably knew that Odell went there to put LSD in the whisky because Mrs. Odell probably told you, but how did I know? One thing, Odell must have had the LSD with him, but there has been no mention of it. It could be that the police are reserving it, or it could be that he had it in his hand when he opened the drawer and no traces of it have been found, but I doubt that because they are very thorough and very expert on that kind of thing. Probably they're keeping it back. Maybe you know?" Wolfe skipped it. "That's a detail, yes. Not conclusive, but indicative. You're aware, Mr. Copes, that without support your information is worthless. If I challenge Mr. Meer or Miss Lugos by telling them what you have told me and they say you lie, what then? Have you a suggestion?" "No. The ad didn't say I have to tell you how to use the information. You're Nero Wolfe, the great detective; I'm just a guy who happened to hear something. Of course I realize Browning will have to know I entered his room that way, that will have to come out, maybe even on the witness stand. You've got it now on tape. If it costs me my job I'll need that sixty-five thousand. Should I tell Browning myself? Now?" "No." Wolfe made it positive. "Tell nobody anything. May I see that notebook?" "Certainly." He took it from his pocket and got up to hand it over. It was loose-leaf with little rings. Wolfe gave several pages a look and stopped at one. "Did you write this that day? Monday?" "No. I wrote it the next day, Tuesday evening, after the--after what happened. But that's exactly what he said. I can swear to it." "You may have to." Wolfe handed the notebook back to him. "I can't tell you how I'll proceed, Mr. Copes, because I Please Pass the Guilt 121 t know. If I need you, 111 know where to find you." He ;d back, his head against the chair back, and shut his eyes. nestly don't know if he realizes that that's no way to end iversation. I do. IS saul and Fred and Orrie and I are still discussing what Wolfe said that Friday morning�or rather, what we didn't say. They came at ten o'clock and I played it back for them twice �the tape of the talk with Dennis Copes�and we considered two angles: one, Was it straight or had he hatched it to get Meer? and two, K it was straight, how were we going to wrap it up? By eleven o'clock, when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms, we hadn't got very far with either one. He told us good morning, put a raceme of Dendrobium chrysotoxum in the vase on his desk, sat and sent his eyes around, and asked, "Have you a program?" "Sure," I said. "Just what you're expecting, ask you for instructions." "One thing," Saul said. "He comes first. How good is it?" "Obviously. On that he said one thing that was strikingly suggestive. Have you considered it?" We looked at one another. "Well," Saul said, "that line about him being just a guy who happened to hear something. We agree that that sounds good. If he's faking it that's very good. A wonderful line." Wolfe shook his head. "I mean something quite different. One specific thing he said that suggests a possible answer to all questions. You haven't considered it?" "We considered everything," I said. "What specific thing?" He shook his head again. "Not now. Even if it means what Please Pass the Guilt 123 it may mean, we must first decide about him. The detail which --as he said--we have to consider: if he didn't learn about the LSD as he says he did, then how? Of course you have discussed that. And?" "And nothing," Orrie said. "We've talked with a lot of people these two weeks, and not the slightest hint of the LSD angle from anyone. You told us to keep that good and tight and we did." I said, "The only mention of it we have heard has been from Mrs. Odell and Falk, and he got it from her. Possibly he also got it from his cousin who is an assistant DA, but he didn't say so. Apparently it is tight. Abbott evidently Hiinlcs Odell had a bomb in his pocket, not LSD." Wolfe nodded. "We'll have to explore the possibilities. Orrie. You will try again with the CAN personnel, this time on the one question, could his k
nowledge of the LSD have come through anyone there? He need not have learned it a month or even a week ago; even yesterday would do. Take care not to divulge it yourself. Fred. Forget the Palestinians. You are on speaking terms with members of the police force. A dozen?" "Only two in Homicide," Fred said. "That may be enough. Knowledge of the LSD may not be limited to the Homicide men. The first to arrive at the scene may have found it. You need not take pains to reserve our knowledge of it; Mr. Cramer knows that we know about it. Does one of them know Mr. Copes or anyone connected with him?--Saul. You will try the other possible source, Mrs. Odell and Miss Haber. I doubt if Mrs. Odell has mentioned it to anyone whatever, but Miss Haber procured the LSD for her, and Mr. Copes would have needed to know only that to make a plausible conjecture. Does Mr. Copes know anyone she knows and might have told? Probably you should try from his end, not hers, but that's for you to decide. Have enough cash with you. If there is any urgent need for help, Archie will be here." 124 Please Pass the Guilt Wolfe's eyes went to Fred, to Orrie, and back to Saul. "We want this, messieurs. If you find another probable source for Mr. Copes's knowledge of the LSD, it will be more than satisfactory. Ironically, it will probably get him sixty-five thousand dollars for supplying the required information. I wish you luck." As Saul stood he said, "I have a question. Might it help if we knew what he said that was strikingly suggestive? Could it hurt?" "Yes, it could hurt. It could divert your interest. I shouldn't have mentioned it. My tendency to strut. Display, like diffidence, is commendable only when it avails. Ignore it." Just fine. What else could they do? Not to mention me. So when they were gone, I ignored it. I sat and ignored it while he glanced through the little stack of mail I had put on his desk, and when he looked up I asked, "Do I do anything while I am being here?" "Yes," he said. "This is Friday." "Right." "I would like to see Miss Lugos and Mr. Meer, not together. And not today. It's possible that today or this evening we'll get something. Miss Lugos at eleven o'clock tomorrow and Mr. Meer at three?" "It's a June weekend and it may take pressure. I'm not objecting, I'm just asking. I would enjoy pressing somebody. Anybody." "So would I." I got at the phone and dialed. 16 that afternoon Orrie and I had a two-piece argument, first on the phone and then face-to-face. Around three o'clock he called to say he would be working the whole weekend because he was taking a female CAN researcher to Atlantic City. I asked if he wished to leave a message for Jill, his wife, in case she called, and he said she was in Tokyo, which was plausible since she was an airline hostess. I said he would be paid to six p.m. Friday, and he said he would come and discuss it. He came a little after four, knowing that Wolfe would be up in the plant rooms, and said it would be a working weekend and he should also get twenty cents a mile for the use of his car; he might get something useful from her and he was certainly going to try. I said okay, eight hours Saturday and eight Sunday, he couldn't expect to be paid for the time he spent in bed, and he said bed was the best place to get really confidential, and I had to agree. But not eight dollars an hour for fifty-two hours, and not the hotel bill. He said Mrs. Odell had a billion, and I said not more than a hundred million even with inflation, and we should leave her something for groceries. We finally settled on a lump sum to cover everything, $364.00, which was seven dollars an hour. I may as well mention now that the client got exactly nothing for that little expense item. By eleven o'clock Saturday morning, when Helen Lugos came, Fred had also drawn a blank. He had talked with five city employes he knew, one of them a sergeant in Homicide, and none 126 Please Pass the Guilt of them had had any contact with Dennis Copes or had any information about him. He doubted if any of them knew about the LSD, but of course they might be keeping the lid on. He was proceeding. Saul had collected a bag of facts about Copes--where and how he lived, his habits, his friends, his background, his personal finances--but nothing that gave us any pointers, so they wouldn't give you any either, and I'll skip them. He had found no connection whatever with Mrs. Odell or Charlotte Haber, but was preparing an approach to Charlotte's kid brother, since there had been a hint that it was on account of him that she had known how to get the LSD. Helen Lugos not only wasn't late this time, she was ten minutes early, so she was stuck with a mere agent again until Wolfe came down from the plant rooms. She wanted to know what was so urgent that she had to change her weekend plans, and I explained that I only obeyed orders. Wolfe entered, told me good morning first and then her, put the flowers for the day in the vase and arranged them so he would have the best view, swiveled his chair to face her, and sat. "I don't thank you for coming," he said. "I'm not disposed to thank you for anything. I have reason to believe that you are withholding information that would be of value. Indeed, I think you have lied. Don't bother to deny it. I tell you that only to establish the temper of the conversation. I'll be trying to find support for my opinion. What will you be doing?" She would be staring. She was staring. "I know what I ought to be doing," she said. "Leaving. I ought to be on my way out." "But you're not. You wouldn't, even if I'm wrong, because you want to know why. That's what makes us the unique animal, we want to know why and try to find out. We even try to discover why we want to know why, though of course we never will. It's possible that upon consideration you have concluded, or at least suspected, that you may have made a mistake or Please Pass the Guilt 127 two. For instance, nineteen days ago, a Monday evening, I asked you if you thought it likely that the person who put the bomb in the drawer was present in this room and you said you had no idea. 'None at all,' you said. And twelve days ago, again a Monday, when you were alone with Mr. Goodwin and he asked what you would say if he asked that question, you replied that you would say exactly the same, you had no idea. I'll try once more. What would you say now?" "My god," she said. "How many times . . ." "What would you say now?" "The same!" Wolfe nodded. "You should know. Miss Lugos, that this is being recorded electronically. The recorder is on a closet shelf in the kitchen, so that a man there can change the tape if necessary. I now have a special reason for wanting to learn beyond question the nature of your relations with Kenneth Meer. What you tell me will be tested thoroughly by wide inquiry. So?" "It has already been tested by the police." Her chin was up and a muscle in the side of her neck was twitching, barely perceptible even by good eyes. "We're not--we're associated in our work because we have to be. Personally we don't--we are not close." "But he would like to be?" "He thinks he-yes." "Do you read books?" She did what everybody does when asked an unexpected and irrelevant question. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. For two seconds exactly the same as if he had asked her if she ate cats. Then she said, "Why--yes. I read books." "Do you read much fiction?" "I read some." "Then you may be aware that most competent storytellers, even lesser ones, have an instinctive knowledge of the possibilities of human conduct. They often present two characters who have a strong mutual attachment in secret but who have 128 Please Pass the Guilt other people believing that they are hostile. But not the reverse. Not two who have a mutual animus but have others believing that they like or love each other. Storytellers know it can't be done. So do 1.1 know I can't learn if you and Mr. Meer are in fact close by asking you questions and watching your face as you answer them, so I won't try. I know it's futile for me to ask you anything at all, but I wanted to see you again and hear you speak, and I would like to ask one specific question, more for what the question will tell you than for what the answer will tell me. Mr. Goodwin got your detailed account of your movements on that Tuesday, May twentieth. I would like one detail of the preceding day, Monday, May nineteenth. In the early afternoon, shortly after lunch, Mr. Meer was with you in your room. TSte-a-tete. What did you talk about? What was said?" I won't say I actually enjoyed what happened next, but I appreciated being there to see it. Having seen him walk out on people I don't know how many times, say a hundred, it kind of evened up to see him once as the walkee instead of the walker. She didn't glare or clamp her jaw or spit, she just got up and went. I admit he didn't glare or spit either; he just sat and watched her go. I did too until she
was out; then I stepped to the hall to see that she shut the front door. When I stepped back in, he was opening the drawer to get the bottle opener-- so he had rung for beer. "Tell me once more," I said, "that I understand women better than you do. It gives me confidence. But don't ask me to prove it. I said two weeks ago that she didn't open the bag and shake it. I also said she didn't plant the bomb, but now I don't know. Did Copes strikingly suggest that she did?" "Confound Copes," he growled. "And nothing can be expected from Saul or Fred during the weekend." He picked up the top item on the stack of the morning mail. It was a check from Mrs. Odell for $65,000. 17 kenneth meer was early too. When I answered the doorbell a little before three, I saw his car down at the curb, a dark green Jaguar. He had an oversized brief case, brown leather, under his arm, presumably to save the trouble of locking the car, and when I asked if he wanted to leave it on the hall bench, he said no and took it along to the office. I said before, when I first saw him, that his poorly designed face was tired too young, and now, as he sat in the red leather chair and blinked at Wolfe, his long, pointed nose above his wide square chin looked like an exclamation point with a long line crossing at the bottom instead of a dot. He kept the brief case on his lap. "I resent this," he said. He sounded as peevish as he looked. "Why couldn't I come yesterday--last evening? Why today?" Wolfe nodded. "I owe you an apology, Mr. Meer. You have it. I hoped to have by now definite information on a point I wanted to discuss with you, but it hasn't come. However, since you're here, we may as well consider another point. Your bloody hands. A week after the explosion of that bomb you were in distress, severe enough to take you to that clinic and then to me. Later, when 1 became professionally involved, the nature of your distress was of course of interest. There were various possibilities: You had yourself put the bomb in the drawer and the burden of guilt was too heavy for you. Or you hadn't, but you knew or suspected who had, and your con130 Please Pass the Guilt science was galling you; your imagined bloody hands were insisting, please pass the guilt. Or merely the event itself had hit you too hard; the sight of the havoc and the actual blood on your bands had put you in shock. Those were all valid guesses, but Mr. Goodwin and I didn't bother to discuss them; we rarely waste time discussing guesses." "I like that, please pass the guilt," Meer said. "I like that." "So do I. Mr. Goodwin will too. He once said that I ride words bareback. But the devil of it is that after more than three weeks the guesses are still guesses, and it may possibly help to mention them to you. Have you a comment?" "No." "None at all?" "No." "Does the distress persist? Do you still get up in the middle of the night to wash your hands?" "No." "Then something that has been done or said must have removed the pressure, or at least eased it. What? Do you know?" "No." Wolfe shook his head. "I can't accept that. This morning I was blunt with Miss Lugos and told her I thought she was lying. Now I think you are. There is another point concerning you that I haven't broached that I'll mention now. Why did you tell a man that anyone who wanted to know how it happened should concentrate on Helen Lugos?" Meer didn't frown or cock his head or even blink. He merely said, "I didn't." Wolfe's head turned. "Archie?" "You said it," I told Meer, "to Pete Damiano. I can't name the day, but it was soon after it happened. About a month ago." "Oh, him." He grinned, or make it that he probably thought he grinned. "Pete would say anything." "That's witless," Wolfe said. "You knew it was likely, at Please Pass the Guilt 131 least possible, that that would be remembered and you would be asked about it, and you should have had a plausible reply ready. Merely to deny it won't do. It's obvious that you're implicated, either by something you know or something you did, and you should be prepared to deal with contingencies. I am, and I believe one is imminent. I ask you the same question I asked Miss Lugos this morning, in the same terms: In the early afternoon of Monday, May nineteenth, shortly after lunch, you were with Miss Lugos in her room, tete-a-tete. What did you talk about? What was said?" That got a frown. "You asked her that? What did she say?" "What did you say?" "Nothing. I don't remember." "Pfui. I've asked you seven questions and got only no's and nothings. I've apologized to you; now I apologize to myself. Another time, Mr. Meer. Mr. Goodwin will show you out." I rose, but stood, because Meer thought he was going to say something. His lips parted twice but closed again. He looked up at me, saw only an impassive mug, got up, tucked the brief case under his arm, and moved. I followed him, but got ahead in the hall, opened the front door, and waited until he was down and at the door of the Jaguar to close it. Back in the office, I asked, "Do we need to discuss any guesses?" Wolfe grunted. "You might as well have gone before lunch. Shall I apologize to you?" "No, thanks. The phone number is on your pad, as usual." I went and got my bag from the hall and let myself out, on my way to the garage for the Heron and then to the West Side Highway, headed for Lily Rowan's glade in Westchester. That's what she calls it. The Glade. 18 amory browning did something Monday morning that had never been done before. He walked down the aisles of the three plant rooms, clear to the potting room, without seeing an orchid. I didn't actually see him, since he was behind me, but I'm sure he did. With that blaze of color, right and left and overhead, you'd think he would have to be blind. In a way he was. It was twenty past ten and I had just returned from a walk crosstown to the bank and back, to deposit the check from the client, when the ring of the doorbell took me to the hall, and there was the next president of CAN. When I went and opened the door, he crossed the sill and went on by and headed for the office, and when I got there he was standing at the end ofWolfe'sdesk. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Where he always is at this hour, up on the roof. Hell be down at eleven. You can wait, or maybe I can help." "Get him down here. Now." The man at the top speaking, but he didn't look it. I had formerly estimated that he had been pudgy for about five years, but now I would have made it ten. "It can't be done," I said. "With him a rule is a rule. He's part mule. If it's really urgent he might talk on the phone." "Get him." "I'll try." I went to the kitchen, sat at the little table where Please Pass the Guilt 133 I eat breakfast, reached for the house phone, and pushed the "P" button. After a two-minute wait, about par, the usual "Yes?" "Me in the kitchen. Amory Browning is in the office. I once saw a picture somewhere of a dragon snorting fire. That's him. He ordered me to get you down here now. I told him you might talk on the phone." Silence for eight seconds, then: "Bring him." "Okay, but have something ready to throw." The elevator will take up to 600 pounds, but I thought a little deep breathing would be good for him, so I took him to the stairs, and he surprised me by not stopping to catch up on oxygen at the landings. He wasn't panting even at the top. As I said, he was behind me down the aisles, but when I opened the door to the potting room I let him by. Wolfe, in his longsleeved, yellow smock, was at the side bench opening a bale of tree fern. He turned part way and said, "You don't like to be interrupted at work. Neither do I." Browning was standing with his feet apart. "You goddam cheap bully!" "Not 'cheap.' I haven't earned that reproach. What do you want?" "Nothing. Calling my secretary a liar. Getting her here on a Saturday morning just to butter your ego by insulting her. I came to tell you that you can tell Mrs. Odell that there will be no more cooperation from anyone at CAN. Tell her if she wants to know why, to call me. Is that plain enough?" "Yes indeed. Is that what you came for, to tell me that?" "Yes!" "Very well, you've told me." Wolfe turned back to the bale of tree fern. Browning was stuck. Of course with the "Is that plain enough?" he should have whirled and headed for the door. Now what could he do for an exit? He could only just go, and I admit he had sense enough to realize it. He just went, and I fol- 134 Please Pass the Guilt lowed, and again he didn't see an orchid. I supposed that on the way down the three flights he would decide on an exit line to use on me, but evidently he was too mad to bother, though I passed him down in the hall and opened the door for him. Not a word. I went to the office and sat to ask myself why I had bothered to deposit the check. And in three minutes the doorbell rang and I went to the hall and there was Saul Panzer. It's moments like that that make life worth living, seeing Sau
l there on the stoop. If he had just wanted to make a routine report or ask a question or ask for help, he would have phoned. If he had wanted to consult Wolfe, he would have waited until eleven o'clock. And if he had bad news, he would have let his face show it as I came down the hall. So he had something good. I opened the door wide and said, "My god, are you welcome. How good is it?" "I guess I'm awful obvious," he said, and stepped in. "I think it's satisfactory." I slammed the door shut. "For a nickel I'd kiss you." I looked at my wrist: 10:47. "You'd rather tell him, but I don't want to wait thirteen minutes. Neither do you or you wouldn't be here yet. We'll go up." It took us about half as long as it had taken Browning and me. I won't say that we didn't see an orchid as we passed through the rooms, but we didn't stop to admire one. Wolfe, still in the yellow smock, was at the sink washing his hands, and Theodore stood there with a paper towel ready for him. Theodore babies him, which is one of the reasons he is not my favorite fellow being. Wolfe, turning and seeing Saul, was on as quick as I had been. He said, "Indeed," and ignored the dripping water from his hands. "What?" "Yes, sir," Saul said. "Once in a while I do something exactly right and am lucky along with it, and that's a pleasure. I would enjoy leading up to it, but it's been a long time since Please Puss the Guilt 135 we've brought you anything. Dennis Copes's twin sister, Diana, is the wife of Lieutenant J. M. Rowcliff. They have two children, a boy and a girl. Dennis and Diana see each other quite often--as I said, twins." Wolfe took the towel from Theodore, patted with it, dropped it in the bin, took another, rubbed with it, missed the bin. It fluttered to the floor and Theodore picked it up. Wolfe flattened his right palm against his left and made slow circles. "Are Mr. Rowcliff and Mr. Copes on good terms?" "No. They see each other very seldom. Apparently never would suit them fine." "Mr. Rowcliff and his wife?" "Three people say they're happy. I know it's hard to believe that anybody could stand Rowcliff, but off duty he may be different." "Have you caused a stir?" "No." That was Saul. Not "I hope not" or "I don't think so." Just "No." "More than satisfactory." Wolfe took the smock off and hung it on a wall hook, got his vest and jacket from a hanger, and put them on. He looked at the clock on the bench: two minutes to eleven. "I want a word with Theodore and I'll consider this on the way down. Put a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator, Archie--and Saul, we'll probably need you." Saul and I went. I suppose I shouldn't include what happened next; it's just too pat. Who will believe it? But Fred deserves to have it in, and it happened. Saul and I had just got to the office, having stopped at the kitchen on the way, and were discussing how it should be handled, when the doorbell rang and I went. It was Fred. I opened the door, and as he entered he blurted, "Is he down yet?" I said he was on the way and he said, "If I hold it in any longer I'll bust. Copes's twin sister is married to that sonofabitch Rowcliff." 136 Please Pass the Guilt All right, it happened. In nineteen days they had got exactly nothing, and here came two of them, practically simultaneous, with the same beautiful slab of bacon. Saul, who had come to the hall and heard him, said, "So we need two bottles of champagne," and went to the kitchen. I was telling Fred that Saul had beat him by just sixteen minutes, when the elevator door opened and Wolfe was there, and when he saw the look on Fred's face, he knew what had happened, so I didn't have to tell him, but I did. He led the way to the office, and Saul came and he and Fred moved yellow chairs up. Wolfe sat and said, "Get Mr. Cramer." He has been known to rush it, and it had been a long dry spell. "You once made a remark," I said, "about impetuosity. I could quote it verbatim." "So could I. If we discussed it all day there would still be only one way to learn if we have it or not. Get him." "H he's not there do you want Rowcliff?" "No. Only Mr. Cramer." I pulled the phone around and dialed, and got first the switchboard, then a sergeant I knew only by name, Molloy, and then Inspector Cramer, and Wolfe took his phone. I stayed on. Wolfe: "Good morning." "Is it?" "I think so. I have a problem. I must discuss a matter with Mr. Rowcliff as soon as possible, and it will go better if you are present. It relates to the death of Peter Odell. Could you come now?" "No. I'll get Rowcliff on another phone." "That wouldn't do. I have a tape recording both of you should hear." "A recording of what?" "You'll know when you hear it. You won't like it, but it may give you a useful hint. It has given me one." "I can't--wait. Maybe I can. Hold it." Please Pass the Guilt 137 We held it for about two minutes, and then: "Does it have to be Rowcliff?" "Yes. That's requisite." "I never expected to hear this, you wanting to see Rowcliff. We'll leave in about ten minutes." Click. We hung up. I asked Wolfe, "The Copes tape?" He said yes, and I went to the safe for the key to the locked cabinet where we keep various items that would be in the safe if there was room. Wolfe started in on Saul and Fred, asking questions that I thought should have been asked before calling Cramer, but he got nothing that tangled it. Fred had nothing but the bare fact that Copes's sister was RowcltfFs wife. Saul, knowing we would need more, had proceeded to get it, but he hadn't seen Diana herself, only neighbors and a woman who cleaned the Rowcliff apartment once a week, and two men who knew Copes. Almost certainly nothing had got to Rowcliff. However, one problem arose that had to be dealt with; Wolfe rang for beer and had the cap off of the bottle before he remembered that we were probably going to open champagne. He called Fritz in for consultation, and they decided it would be interesting to try eel stewed in stale beer, and Fritz thought he knew where he could get eel the next day. Wolfe told him Saul and Fred would join us for lunch, and it should be a little early if possible--one o'clock. Lieutenant Rowcliff has it in for all private detectives, but I admit he has a special reason for thinking the world would be better off without me. When he gets hot he stutters, and with me it must be catching, because when he's working on me and I see that he is getting close to that point, / start to stutter, especially on words that begin with g or t. It's a misdemeanor to interfere with a police officer in the performance of his duty, but how could he handle that? Wolfe knows about it, and when the doorbell rang at a quarter to twelve and he told Saul to get 138 Please Pass the Guilt it, I believe he actually thought I might greet them with "Gugu-gu-good morning." I was at my desk. Fred was in one of the three yellow chairs facing Wolfe's desk, the one nearest me. Cramer, leading the way, of course went to the red leather chair, and Rowcliff took the yellow one nearest him, which left the middle one for Saul. As Cramer sat, he said, "Make it snappy. Rowcliff has someone waiting. What's this about a recording?" "I'll have to introduce it," Wolfe said. "You probably know the name, Dennis Copes." "I've heard it. One of the CAN bunch." "I know him," Rowcliff said. "He wants Meer's job." Wolfe nodded. "So it is said. As you know, Mrs. Odell's advertisement appeared last Tuesday, six days ago. Mr. Copes came here Thursday evening and said he had to admit something and that he had information to give me under the conditions stated in the advertisement. He did so. The recording is that conversation. --Archie?" All I had to do was reach to the far corner of my desk to flip a switch. The playback, which was a honey and had cost $922.50, was on the desk at the back. We knew it was a good tape, since we had listened to it three times. Copes's voice came. "That was a good ad. 'Any person who communicates as a result of this advertisement thereby agrees to the above conditions.' Very neat. What agency?" "Agency?" "Who wrote it?" "Mr. Goodwin." Naturally I watched their faces. The first few minutes they looked at each other a couple of times, but then their eyes stayed mostly on Wolfe. Then Cramer set his jaw and his face got even redder than usual, and RowcliflE started to lick his lips. It has been said that Rowcliff is handsome, and I'll concede that his six feet of meat is distributed well enough, but his face reminds me of a camel with a built-in sneer. All right, Please Pass the Guilt 139 I don't like him, so allow for it. Of course licking his lips didn't improve it any. It got to the end. Wolfe: "You may have to. I can't tell you how I'll proceed, Mr. Copes, because I don't know. If I need you, I'll know where to find you." I reached to the switch and flipped it. "By god," Cramer said. He was so mad his voice was weak. "Four days ago. Four whole days. And you even told him not to tell anybody a
nything. And now you get us here and� How in hell you expect�" "Pfui," Wolfe said. "You're not a witling and you know I'm not. If I had believed he was telling the truth, I might or might not have informed you immediately, but I certainly would not have risked telling him not to. I had good reason to suspect that he wasn't. How could Kenneth Meer possibly have known that Odell intended to put LSD in the whisky? I don't know how much of an effort you have made to learn if anyone knew, and if so who, but I know how much / have. I thought it extremely doubtful that Meer could have known. But if he didn't, if Copes was lying, how did Copes know even now? Apparently it had been kept an official secret; it had not been disclosed by you or the District Attorney. And I had to know. I had to know if Copes could possibly have learned about the LSD from any other source. Unless such a source could be found, it would be impossible to challenge his account, and I would have to advise him to tell you without further delay. At ten o'clock Friday morning, five of us gathered here to consider it, and Mr. Panzer, Mr. Durkin, and Mr. Gather were given instructions and proceeded to inquire. The obvious possibil�" "Three days you kept it. By God, three days and three nights." Cramer's voice was not weak. "The weekend intervened. Anyway I would have kept it as long as there was any hope of finding a probable source. Three weeks or three months. Fortunately a competent performance by Mr. Panzer�and Mr. Durkin�made it only three days. Mr. 140 Please Pass the Guilt Panzer brought it a little more than an hour ago, and I telephoned you almost immediately. Copes lied. I know how he learned about the LSD." Wolfe looked at Rowcliff and back at Cramer. "There are several ways I could do this, and I'm taking the quickest, which should also be the most effective. As you know, a friend of Mr. Goodwin's, Mr. Cohen, is in a position of authority and influence at the Gazette." He turned. "Your notebook, Archie." With no idea what was coming, I got it, and a pen, and crossed my legs. "A suggested draft for an article in tomorrow's Gazette. 'In an interview yesterday afternoon Nero Wolfe, comma, the private investigator, comma, stated that an attempt has been made by Dennis Copes, comma, an employe of the Continental Air Network, comma, to get the sixty-five thousand dollars offered in a recent advertisement by Mrs. Peter Odell, comma, by fraud. Period.'--No. Instead of 'fraud' make it 'by subreption.' It's more precise and will add to vocabularies. 'Paragraph.' "'Mr. Wolfe said, comma, quote, "Dennis Copes came to my office last Thursday evening and disclosed that he had knowledge of a certain fact relevant to the explosion of a bomb in the office of a CAN executive on the twentieth of May that caused the death of Peter Odell. Period. It was a fact known to me and to the police but had never been divulged, comma, by them or by me. Period. It was a closely guarded secret. Period. Mr. Copes's explanation of how and where he had learned it made it highly probable that the bomb had been placed in the drawer by another employe of CAN, comma, named by him. Paragraph. " 'Quote. "I had reason to suspect that Mr. Copes's account of how he had learned the fact was false, comma, and I undertook to discover if he might have learned it some other way. Period. This morning I learned that there was indeed another way. Period. Mr. Copes has a twin sister named Diana who is the wife of a police lieutenant named J. M. Rowcliff. Period. Please Pass the Guilt 141 I think it highly probable, comma, in fact I am satisfied, comma, that Mr. Rowcliff-"'" "Why, goddam you--" Rowcliff was up and moving. "Back up!" Cramer snapped. "Let me finish," Wolfe said. "I'll finish you! You-" "Can it!" Cramer snapped. "Sit down. Sit down and shut your trap." To Wolfe: "You know damn well you can't do this. We'd tear your guts out. You'd be done." "I doubt it," Wolfe said. "The spotlight of public interest I would be a cynosure, a man of mark. And my client's resources are considerable. I would have bandied this differently if it were not Mr. Rowcliff. If it were Mr. Stebbins, for instance, I would have asked him to come and I would have told him that I wanted merely his private acknowledgment that he had told his wife about the LSD. That would have satisfied me that Mr. Copes had learned of the LSD from his sister, and no further proof would have been required. It would not have been necessary even for you to be told, either by him or by me. But with Mr. Rowcliff that would not have been possible. Would it? You know him. You know his animus against me." "You could have asked me to come. And discuss it." "Certainly. I have. Here we are." "Balls. Discuss, my ass. 'In an interview yesterday afternoon Nero Wolfe, the private investigator.' That crap. All right, I'll discuss it with Rowcliff and you'll hear from me later. Probably today." "No." Emphatic. "That won't do. It's urgent. There's a certain step I intend to take without delay. I'll postpone it only if I must. If you and Mr. Rowcliff leave without satisfying me, Mr. Goodwin will leave ten minutes later with the suggested draft for that article. It may be possible to get it in the late edition of today's paper. And of course reporters will be wanting to see Mr. and Mrs. Rowdiff--and you, I suppose. This is probably a resort to coercion, but I make no apology; the fact that 142 Please Pass the Guilt I have Mr. Rowcliff to deal with makes it imperative. Actually I don't ask much. I require only a statement by him, unequivocal, that he told his wife about the LSD found in Peter Odell's pocket. I don't need an admission by his wife that she told her brother. That is a plausible assumption that for me will suffice." Wolfe turned to Rowcliff. "You may know--or you may not --that there is an understanding between Mr. Cramer and me which he knows I observe. No conversation in this office with him present is recorded without his express consent. This is not being recorded." "You goddam ape," Rowcliff said. Cramer asked nun, "Did you hear me tell you to shut your trap?" No reply. "Say 'yes, sir,'" Cramer said. Rowcliff licked his lips. "Yes, sir." "You're a good cop," Cramer said. "I know what you're good for and what you're not good for. I even agree with your opinion of Wolfe up to a point, but only up to a point. That understanding he mentioned, you wouldn't trust him to keep it, but I do. That's a flaw you've got. Anyway the point right now is not our opinion of Wolfe, it's what he wants from you. There are aspects of this that you and I can discuss privately, and we will, but if you did tell your wife about the LSD, and you can be damn sure I'm going to know if you did, the best thing you can do is to say so here and now. You don't have to tell Wolfe, tell me. Did you?" "Goddam it, Inspector, I'm not--" "Did you?" "Yes. I'm not going-" "Shut up." Cramer turned to Wolfe. "I call that unequivocal, damn you." "So do I," Wolfe said. "Thank you for coming." "You can shove your thanks." He stood up. "You said Please Pass the Guilt 143 something on the phone about a useful hint. You can shove that too. You and your useful hints." He turned to Rowcliff. "You, move. Move!" It was an order and Rowcliff obeyed it. Anyone else I could name, I would have felt sorry for him. I knew what he had coming and so did he. Saul followed them to the hall; he had let them in, so he would check them out. As Saul came back in, Wolfe told me, "Get Mr. Browning." He was certainly making up for lost time, but it had worked with Cramer and Rowcliff so it might work with the next president of CAN too, whatever it was. I pulled the phone around and dialed, and told the switchboard I wanted to speak to Mr. Browning's secretary. When you ask for secretaries usually you aren't asked who you are, and in a minute I had her. "Mr. Browning's office." "Miss Lugos, please." "This is Miss Lugos." "This is Archie Goodwin. Mr. Wolfe would like to speak to Mr. Browning." "Nero Wolfe?" "Yes." "What about?" "I don't know. It must be important, since Mr. Browning called him a cheap bully only a couple of hours ago." "I'll see. Hold the wire." Of course she would tell me either that Mr. Browning was not available or to put Mr. Wolfe on. But she didn't. After a wait of only a couple of minutes, his voice: "What do you want?" I didn't have to answer because Wolfe was on. "Mr. Browning?" "Yes." "Nero Wolfe. I have just spoken at some length with Inspector Cramer of the police. He left my office five minutes ago. This afternoon, not later than four o'clock, I am going to 144 Please Pass the Guilt tell him who put a bomb in a drawer of your desk, and I think it fitting and desirable that I tell you first. I would also like to tell Miss Lugos why I told her that she lied. Will you come, with her, at half past two?" Silence, a long minute, then, "I think you're lying." "No. A lie that would be expos
ed in three hours? No." "You know who did that? You know now?" "Yes." A shorter silence. "I'll call you back." He hung up. Of course that meant yes. He wouldn't call Cramer, and even if he did, what would that get him? I looked at Wolfe. Sometimes you can tell pretty well how good his hand is by the way he holds his head, and his mouth. That time I couldn't. No sign. I asked him, "Must we leave the room while you're telling them? We're curious. We'd like to know too." "You will." He looked at the wall clock. 12:25. "Now. Saul, ask Fritz to bring the champagne." As Saul left, the doorbell rang, and I went. It was Orrie Gather. I opened the door and said, "Greetings. Go ahead and tell me you know who Dennis Copes's twin sister's husband is." "Huh?" He stepped in. "I didn't know he had a sister. I got bounced from the CAN building." "Sure. They knew you like champagne. Go right in." So Orrie was there for the briefing too. 19 the vice-president and his secretary came on the dot at half past two. Precisely. We were well-filled. Inside our bellies were three bottles of Dom Perignon champagne, braised sweetbreads with chicken quenelles (small portions because of the unexpected guests), crab meat omelets (added attraction), celery and mushroom salad, and four kinds of cheese. Inside our skulls were the details of where it stood according to Wolfe and the program for the next hour or two. For where it stood I would have given good odds, say ten to one, and so would the other three. For the program, no bet. It was a typical Wolfe concoction. It assumed--/ze assumed--that if an unexpected snag interfered, he would be able to handle it no matter what it was, and your ego has to be riding high to assume that To prepare for it only two props were needed. One was the Copes tape in the playback on my desk. For the other all four of us went to the basement. I could have done it alone, but they wanted to help. In a corner of the big storage room there were two thick, old mattresses, no springs in them, which I had used a few times for targets to get bullets for comparison purposes. We decided the best place for them was under the pool table in the adjoining room, where it had been installed when Wolfe had decided that he needed some violent exercise. Doubled, the mattresses were a tight fit under it. The three were to be in the front room, but when the doorbell 146 Please Pass the Guilt rang Saul went to receive the guests and show them in. They didn't have their war paint on. Browning was not a dragon snorting fire, and Helen Lugos was not set to use her claws on someone who had called her a liar. He sat in the red leather chair and said he had an appointment at a quarter past three, and she sat in a yellow one and said nothing. "This will take a while," Wolfe told Browning. "Perhaps an hour." "I can't stay an hour." "We'll see. I'll make it as brief as possible. First you must hear a recording of a conversation I had recently with a member of your staff, Dennis Copes. Here. He came last Thursday evening. --Archie?" I nipped the switch, and for the fifth time I heard Copes speak highly of that ad. Another time or two and I would begin to think I had picked the wrong line of work, that by now I could have been a vice-president myself, at one of the big agencies. As I had with Cramer and Rowcliff, I watched their faces. Their reaction was very different from the cops'. They looked at Wolfe hardly at all. Mostly they looked at each other, him with a frown that developed into what you might call a gawk, and her first with her eyes wide and then with her lips parted. Twice she started to say something but realized she had to hold it When it came to the end and I turned it off, they both started to speak at once, he to her and she to him, but Wolfe stopped them. "Don't," he said, loud enough and decisive enough to stop anybody. "Don't waste your breath and your time and mine. I know he lied. It was all a fabrication. That has been established, with the help of Inspector Cramer. He heard the recording this morning. I should tell you, and I do, that this conversation is not being recorded. I give you that assurance on my word of honor, and those who know me would tell you that I would not tarnish that fine old pledge." Browning demanded, "If you know he lied why bother us with it? Why do you waste our time?" Please Pass the Guilt 147 "I don't. You had to hear part of it, and to appreciate that part you needed to hear the whole. I have--" "What part?" "You said your time is limited." "It is." "Then don't interrupt. I have a good deal to say and I am not garrulous. The kernel of Mr. Copes's fabrication was of course the quotation--what he said he heard Kenneth Meer say." To Helen Lugos: "You say he didn't say that? That that conversation didn't occur?" "I certainly do. It didn't." "I believe you. But his invention of it told me something that he did not intend and was not aware of. It told me who put the bomb in the drawer, and I'm going to tell you how and why. As I said, I'll make it brief as possible, but you should know that Kenneth Meer is responsible for my concern in this affair. On May twenty-sixth, a Monday, he went to a clinic, gave a false name, and told a doctor that he needed help; that he got blood on his hands recurrently, frequently, not visible to anyone else. He refused--" Browning demanded, "A clinic? What clinic?" "Don't interrupt! To include all details would take all day. I assure you that anything I do include can be verified. He refused to give any information about himself. A friend of that doctor, another doctor, consulted me, and Kenneth Meer, still using an alias, came to see me. He still refused to supply any information about himself, but by a ruse, Mr. Goodwin and I learned who he was, and of course we had seen his name in the published reports of the death of Peter Odell. That led to "y being consulted by Mrs. Odell and her hiring me. Naturally-"