by Rex Stout
He frowned at her. "As you see, we're severely circumscribed. Motive requires no scrutiny; it blares and brandishes. Means is no problem-a piece of cord two feet long. Opportunity offers no path to a conclusion, since the murders may well have been vicarious, with enough at stake to make them worth planning and paying for. How can I harass you or devise a trap? The best I can do is induce you to talk, and hope for something. How are Mr. Helmar and Mr. Brucker getting along with Miss O'Neil?"
That started a minor commotion. Brucker, who had been letting himself sprawl some, jerked up straight. Pitkin emitted a sound that seemed to be the start of a giggle, but he stopped it. Helmar's jaw fell and then closed and clamped.
Miss Duday kept her composure. "I really don't know," she said. "Of course this has changed the situation-temporarily, at least."
"You told Mr. Goodwin that as soon as Miss Eads was in control Miss O'Neil would lose her job."
"Did I? Well, now she won't."
"You also told Mr. Goodwin that she was playing Mr. Helmar and Mr. Brucker against each other. What was the connection between that fact and the murder of Miss Eads?"
"None that I know of."
"No, that won't do." Wolfe was crisp. "Mr. Goodwin said he was there to investigate the murder, and you volunteered that information. You are much too intelligent to blatter irrelevancies. What was the connection?"
She smiled, a thin tight smile. "Goodness, am I cornered? Do you suppose in some dark crevice of my mind there was the thought that I wouldn't dream of thinking either of those men capable of murdering for profit, but in their blind passion for that creature-there was no telling? And I blurted it out to Mr. Goodwin that day? Am I like that?"
"I couldn't say." Wolfe skipped it. "When and where did you last see Miss Eads?"
"One week ago today. Last Thursday afternoon, at the office."
"What office?"
"The Softdown office at One ninety-two Collins Street."
"What happened, and what was said? Tell me about it."
Viola Duday hesitated. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and hesitated some more. Finally she spoke. "This is a detail," she said, "where we acted like idiots-these four men and I. We had a discussion Tuesday afternoon-it was interrupted by your man, Mr. Goodwin, and we agreed on the account we would give of what had happened on Thursday. We knew that would come up in the investigation of the murder, and we agreed on what to say. It was the only time in my life I have ever been a complete fool. Miss O'Neil was present, because she had been concerned in the events of Thursday. Since she is totally brainless, it didn't take a competent policeman more than ten minutes alone with her to tangle her up. In the end, naturally, they learned exactly what had happened Thursday, so I might as well tell you. Do you want it in full?"
"Full enough. I can always stop you."
"Priscilla came downtown and had lunch with me. She said that she had talked with Sarah Jaffee the day before, and Sarah had refused to be elected a director, that she wouldn't even come to a stockholders' meeting on July first as we had planned. Priscilla and I discussed getting someone else for a fifth director, and other things. After lunch she went back to the office with me. It had got so it was always tense around that place when Priscilla was there, and that day it was worse than usual. I wasn't in the room when the scene between Priscilla and Miss O'Neil started, so I don't know how it began, but I heard the last of it. Priscilla told her to leave the building and not come back, and she refused to go. That had happened once before."
"On the former occasion," Mr. Brucker put in, "Miss Eads had been completely in the wrong."
Viola Duday ignored him. She didn't even spend a glance on him, but kept at Wolfe. "Priscilla was furious. She phoned Helmar at his law office and asked him to come, and when he arrived she told him and Brucker that she had decided to have a new board of directors and put me in as president. They called in Quest and Pitkin, and the four of them spent three hours trying to persuade her that I was incompetent and would ruin the business. I don't think they succeeded. I know that when she left she came to my room and said it would be only eleven more days, and that she was going away for the weekend, and she shook hands. That was the last time I saw her."
"As far as you knew, it was still her intention to make you president?"
"Yes. I'm sure it was."
"Do you know that she came here Monday afternoon and spent some hours in this house?"
"Yes, I know."
"Do you know what she came for?"
"I know nothing definite. I have heard conjectures."
"I won't ask you from whom or what. I am aware, Miss Duday, that in coming here this evening you people were impelled only partly by the threat of a legal action by Mrs. Jaffee. You also hoped to learn what Miss Eads came to see me for and what she said. I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I have given a complete report to the police, or Mr. Goodwin has, and if they don't care to publish it neither do I. But I will ask you, do you know of any reason why, on Monday, Miss Eads should have decided to seek seclusion? Was she being harassed or frightened by anyone?"
"On Monday?"
"Yes."
"I don't know." She bit her lip, regarding him. "Having no knowledge of it, I could only offer a guess."
"Try a guess."
"Well, I know that Perry Helmar had an appointment with her at her apartment for Monday evening. I learned that only yesterday. I know that these men were desperate, and they spent hours Monday at the Softdown office going through records for years back and compiling memoranda. I thought then that they were probably collecting evidence to prove my incompetence and demonstrate it to Priscilla, and I now think that Helmar made that appointment with her Monday, insisted on it, in order to show her that evidence and convince her that I could not be trusted. My guess is that if she decided to seek seclusion it was because they were pestering her, especially Helmar, and she had had enough of them."
"Why especially Helmar?"
"Because he had more at stake. The others all help to run the business and could expect to continue to get good salaries after Priscilla took over. Helmar has had very little to do with the business operations, and is not an officer of the corporation, but he has been drawing forty thousand a year as counsel. He has actually earned perhaps one-tenth of it, if anything. After June thirtieth I doubt if he would have drawn anything at all, and-"
"That's false, and you know it," Helmar challenged her. "That's utterly unfounded!"
"You'll have your turn," Wolfe told him.
"He can have it now." Miss Duday was contemptuous. "That's all I have to say-unless you have questions?"
"No. Well, Mr. Helmar? Go ahead."
There was a polite interruption from Eric Hagh. He wanted a refill for his glass, and others were ready too, so there was a short recess. Hagh seemed to have got the impression that we were counting on him to keep Sarah Jaffee company, and I was too busy to resent it, but apparently Nat Parker wasn't.
Wolfe poured beer from his third bottle, swallowed some, and prompted Helmar. "Yes, sir?"
Chapter 11
From his manner and expression it was apparent that it was hard for Perry Helmar to believe that he was in such a fix. For him, a senior member of an old and respected Wall Street law firm, to have to sit conspicuously in that red leather chair and undertake to persuade a private detective named Nero Wolfe that he was not a murderer was insufferable, but he had to suffer it. His oratorical baritone was raspy and supercilious under the strain.
"You say you are not interested," he told Wolfe, "in the factors of means and opportunity. The motive is palpable for all of us, but it is also palpable that Miss Duday is biased by animus. She cannot support her statement that after June thirtieth my income from the corporation would have ceased. I deny that Miss Eads intended to take any action so ill advised and irresponsible."
He took a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. "As you know, when I went to Miss Eads's apartment Monday evening to keep an appoi
ntment with her, I found a note she had left for me. The police have the original. This is a copy. It reads:
"Dear Perry:
I hope you won't be too mad at me for standing you up. I'm not going to do anything loony. I just want to be sure where I stand. I doubt if you will hear from me before June 30th, but you will then all right. Please, and I mean this, please don't try to find me.
Love, Pris."
He folded the paper and returned it to his pocket. "In my opinion, the tone and substance of that communication do not indicate that Miss Eads had decided to repay my many years of safeguarding and advancing her interests in the manner described by Miss Duday. She was neither an ingrate nor a fool. I decline to offer justification of the amount paid to me by the corporation as counsel, but will say only that it was for services rendered. The business is by no means confined solely to making and selling towels, as Miss Duday sneeringly implied. Its varied activities and wide interests require constant and able supervision."
He sent a cold, straight glance at Viola Duday and went back to Wolfe. "However, even if Miss Eads had decided to act as Miss Duday suggests, I would certainly not have been desperate. My income from my law practice, exclusive of the payments from Softdown, is adequate for my needs. And even if I had been desperate I would not have resorted to murder. The idea that a man of my training and temperament would, to gain any conceivable objective, perform so vicious a deed and incur so tremendous a risk is repugnant to every reputable theory of human conduct. That's all."
He clamped his jaw.
"Not quite," Wolfe objected. "You leave too much untouched. If there was no question of desperation, if you had no thought that you were about to be squeezed out, why did you offer me five thousand dollars to find Miss Eads within six days, and double that to produce her, as you put it, alive and well?"
"I told you why. I thought it likely that she had gone, or was going, to Venezuela to see her former husband, and I wanted, if possible, to stop her before she reached him. I had had that letter from him, claiming a half-interest in her property, and she was greatly disturbed over it, and I was afraid she might do something foolish. My using that hackneyed phrase, 'alive and well' had no significance. I told you that the first thing to do would be to check all airplane passengers to Venezuela." He pointed a straight, stern, bony finger. "And you had her here, in this house, and kept it from me. And after I left, you sent her to her death!"
Wolfe, no doubt aware that the finger wasn't loaded, did not counter. He asked, "Then you're conceding that the document Mr. Hagh was waving around is authentic? That his wife signed it?"
"No."
"But she surely knew whether she had signed it or not. If she hadn't, if it was a fake, why would she go flying off to Venezuela?"
"She was-wild sometimes."
Wolfe shook his head. "You can't have it both ways, Mr. Helmar. Let's get it straight. You had shown Miss Eads the letter from Mr. Hagh and the photostat of the document. What did she say? Did she acknowledge she had signed it, or deny it?"
Helmar took his time replying. Finally he said, "I'll reserve my answer to that."
"I doubt if aging will help it," Wolfe said dryly. "Now that you know that Miss Eads had not gone to Venezuela, and I assure you she had no intention of going, how do you explain her backing out from her appointment with you, her departure, her asking you not to try to find her?"
"I don't have to explain it."
"Do you decline to try?"
"I don't see that it needs more explanation than you already have. She knew that I was coming that evening with documentary proof that Miss Duday was utterly incompetent to direct the affairs of the corporation. I told her so that morning on the phone. I think it likely that she was already aware that she would have to abandon her idea of putting Miss Duday in control, and she didn't want to face me and admit it. Also she knew that Miss Duday would not give her a moment's peace for the week that was left."
"What a monstrous liar you are, Perry," Viola Duday said in her clear, pleasant voice.
He looked at her. That was the first time I had seen him give her a direct and explicit look, and, since she was just off the line from him to me, I had a good view of it. It demolished one detail of his exposition-the claim that a man of his training and temperament couldn't possibly commit a murder. His look at her was perfect for a guy about to put a cord around a neck and pull tight. It was just one swift, ugly flash, and then he returned to Wolfe.
"I should think," he said, "that would explain her leaving and her note to me. Whether it also explains what she said to you I can't say, because I don't know what that was."
"What about Miss O'Neil?"
"I have nothing to say about Miss O'Neil."
"Oh, come. She may be a mere voluptuous irrelevance, but I need to know. What was her manner of play? Was she intimate with both Mr. Brucker and you, or neither? What was she after-diversion, treasure, or a man?"
Helmar's jaw worked. It jutted anyway, and when he gave it muscle it was as outstanding as the beak of a bulldozer. He spoke. "It was stupid to submit to this at all. With the police it's unavoidable, there's no help for it, but with you it's absurd-your ignorant and malicious insinuations about a young woman whom you are not fit to touch. In her innocence and modest merit she is so far above all this depravity-no! I was a fool to come!" He set the jaw for good.
I was gawking at him. It was hard to believe. It is not unheard of for a Wall Street lawyer to find relaxation in the companionship of a well-made female grabber, but when you hear one with his mind still working blathering like that about it, you wonder. Such a man is a menace to healthy and normal dealings between the sexes. After hearing Helmar emit that blah about a specimen like Daphne O'Neil, for weeks I got suspicious whenever I heard myself addressing a young woman in anything more sociable than a defiant snarl.
Wolfe said, "I take it you're through, Mr. Helmar?"
"I am."
Wolfe turned. "Mr. Brucker?"
Brucker was the one I favored. It will sometimes happen, when a group of people are under the blazing light of a murder job, that they all look alike to you, but not often. Usually, sometimes for a reason you can name and sometimes not, you have a favorite, and mine in this case was Jay L. Brucker, the president. I didn't know why, but it could have been his long pale face and long thin nose, which reminded me of a bird I had once worked for during summer vacation in Ohio in my high school days, who had diddled me out of forty cents; or again it could have been the way he had looked at Daphne O'Neil, Tuesday afternoon in the Softdown conference room. There is no law against a man showing his admiration for works of nature, but it had been only a few hours since he had heard of the death of Priscilla Eads, and it wouldn't have hurt him any to wait till sundown to start gloating.
He wasn't gloating now. He was the only one who had had three drinks-a good shot of rye each time, with a splash of water-and I had noticed that when he conveyed the glass to his lips his hand trembled.
"I would like to tell-" he started. It didn't come through well, and he cleared his throat twice and started over. "I would like to tell you, Mr. Wolfe, that I regard this action by Mrs. Jaffee as completely justified. My opinion was that the stock should be placed in escrow until the matter of Miss Eads's death has been satisfactorily cleared up, but the others objected that sometimes a murder is not solved for months or even years, and sometimes never. I had to admit that their position had some validity, but so has Mrs. Jaffee's, and it should be possible to arrive at a compromise. I do not resent the interest you are taking in the matter. I would welcome and appreciate your assistance in arranging a compromise."
Wolfe shook his head. "You're wasting time, sir. I'm an investigator, not a negotiator. I'm after a murderer. Is it you? I don't know, but you do. I ask you to speak to that."
"I would be glad to"-he cleared his throat again-"if I thought I knew anything that would help you to arrive at the truth. I'm just a plodding, hard-working businessman, Mr. Wol
fe; there's nothing brilliant or spectacular about me the way there is about you. I remember a day back in nineteen thirty-two, the worst year for American business in this century. I was an awkward young fellow, had been with Softdown just three years, had started there when I finished college. It was a cold December day, a couple of weeks before Christmas, and I was in a gloomy frame of mind. Word had got around that on account of business conditions further retrenchment had been decided on, and at the end of the year several of us in my section would be dropped."
"If you think this is pertinent," Wolfe muttered.
"I do, yes, sir. On that cold December day Mrs. Eads had come to the office to see Mr. Eads about something, and had brought with her Priscilla, their little five-year-old daughter, a lovely little girl. Priscilla remained out on the floor while her mother went into her father's office, walking around looking at people and things, as children will; and I happened to be there, and she came up to me and asked what my name was, and I told her, Jay. Do you know what she said?"
He waited for a reply, and Wolfe, coerced, said, "No."
"She said, 'Jay? You don't look like a bluejay!' She was simply irresistible. I had been busy that morning with some tests of a new yarn we were considering, and I had a little of it in my pocket, just a few short strands of bright green, and I took it and tied it loosely around her neck and told her that was a beautiful necklace I was giving her for Christmas, and I took her to a mirror on the wall and held her up so she could look at it."