Over My Dead Body

by Rex Stout

  "Why," I said in a friendly tone, "that must have been Sergeant Stebbins on the phone! How's that for deduction?"

  "Fine." Cramer threw his cigar at the trash basket, missed, went and picked it up and dropped it in, and returned to the stool. "Don't think I'm going to blow up, because I'm not. I'm beyond that. Ten minutes after you left I told Wolfe that Carla Lovchen was trailed to the Maidstone Building this morning and was holed up there, but that was after you left, as I say. All I'm going to do is ask a simple question: Why did you go to the Maidstone Building?"

  I grinned at him. "Here's the first answer that occurs to me: There was a phone call here at noon from a certain party, and it was traced to a public phone at that building. All right?"

  "No."

  I shrugged. "Get Mr Wolfe to tell you one."

  Wolfe, going on with his work, paid no attention. Cramer said, "I still am not going to blow up. I have planted myself here on two assumptions: The first is that Wolfe has got something on this case that I stand damn little chance of getting unless and until the break comes and he loosens up. The second is, inasmuch as I have never yet found him picking up pieces for a murderer, that he's not doing that now. If my first assumption is wrong, I'm just out of luck. If my second one is, you are. Both of you. That's all. Now you can take the Maidstone Building and stick it up your chimney. But in case you don't already know it, Carla Lovchen went in that place on 38th Street at eleven o'clock this morning and came out again in ten minutes. I want her, and I want her plenty. I'm telling you. So if it turns out that she has actually pulled a getaway and you helped her do it…"

  "The man's mad," I declared.

  "Shut up. That's all."

  I continued to admire my feet.

  At five minutes to six Wolfe put the magnifying glass away in the drawer, gave Theodore a few instructions regarding the sprouts, and announced that it was time to descend. Never having felt full confidence in the capacity of the elevator as posted on its wall, I left it to him and took to the stairs and Cramer joined me. Two flights down we saw that the elevator had stopped there and Wolfe was emerging. We halted as he approached us.

  "I'll go to my room and clean up a little. Archie, will you come with me? We'll be with you in the office shortly, Mr Cramer. Miss Tormic is there, you know."

  Cramer hesitated, looked at him suspiciously, and then tramped to the stairs and started down. We waited till we heard the office door close behind him and then went to the door of Wolfe's room and entered. Carla was in a straight-backed chair by the wall, her shoulders hunched over, her hands clenched in her lap, her chin down; but she was wearing her own clothes. The bellboy's outfit, neatly folded, was on the table.

  Wolfe stopped in front of her and said, "How do you do, Miss Lovchen."

  She looked up at him for an instant, then let her head fall again and made no reply.

  Wolfe said, "I have no time now because I am expected downstairs. Mr Goodwin told me he brought a goose. He did. Whether you killed Mr Ludlow and Mr Faber or not, you are pure imbecile. Most people are, under great stress, but that merely gives you company. I don't know how or where Mr Goodwin found you, but you must have been making an awful fool of yourself or he wouldn't have found you at all. Even though he is fairly good at finding things. If you think I am severe, it is because I have no sympathy to waste on people who come and ask my help and tell me nothing but lies. For the present you will stay in this room. I'll come back pretty soon and ask you some questions."

  Carla raised her head again, moved it once from side to side and said, "I won't answer any questions. I've decided that. I won't say anything. Not to you or anybody."

  "Oh. You won't?"

  "No. Nothing. No matter what happens. If I don't say anything, what can anybody do? What can they prove if I don't say anything? Maybe you think I haven't enough will-power for it, but I have."

  "You might have, for a while. Try it, by all means. It would be an improvement on your conduct so far." Wolfe turned to go. "I'll be back to see you, anyway, or send for you. Come, Archie."

  With his hand on the knob he asked, "Are you hungry? Could you eat something?"

  "No, thank you."

  We went.

  The trio in the office was now four: with us, six. The dick was still bored. Fred, the bum, had reoccupied my chair against my express orders, but as I entered he moved to another one. Cramer stood over by the big globe, twirling it. Neya Tormic's eyes fastened on Wolfe as he appeared in the door and followed him as he crossed to his desk, sat, and reached for the button. I realized that he was in about as bad a humour as I could remember, because he issued no invitation for anyone to have beer. Neya Tormic said, with her eyes boring holes through him:

  "I want to see you alone-to ask you something."

  Wolfe nodded. "I know what you want. That will have to wait. You didn't get to finish your errand. Isn't that it?"

  "I-" She stopped and wet her lips. "You promised."

  "No, Miss Tormic, I didn't. I know you've had a hard afternoon, but surely you remember why you and Mr Goodwin were looking for Miss Lovchen. And you didn't find her."

  "She's gone."

  "How do you know that?"

  "This-Inspector Cramer just told me they can't find her."

  "Where has she gone to?"

  "I don't know."

  Wolfe uncapped a bottle of beer and poured. "Anyway," he declared, "that will have to wait. Confound it, everything will have to wait!" He drank until the glass was empty. "Mr Cramer, you have been hanging around here since two o'clock. You have shown admirable patience and restraint-for instance, regarding Archie's presence at the Maidstone Building-and of course I know why. You want something and you think you can get it here and nowhere else. I tell you frankly, it isn't here. I don't suppose you contemplate spending the night in my house…"

  I didn't hear the rest of the build-up for sending the inspector out into the night, because the door-bell rang and I went to answer it. Usually I performed that service anyway from six to eight, when Fritz was busy getting dinner, and on this occasion, considering the goose I had left in Wolfe's room, I had a special interest in the possibility of invading hordes. But what I found on the stoop wasn't a horde at all, but merely a youth in a snappy uniform with a little flat package he wanted to deliver to Nero Wolfe. I put out a hand for it, but he said he had instructions to put it into the hands of Nero Wolfe and no one else's. So I took him to the office. He marched across to the desk like a West Point cadet ready for his commission, stood with his heels together and asked politely:

  "Mr Nero Wolfe?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "From Seven Seas Radio. Sign here, please. The bill, sir. Twenty-six dollars, please."

  Wolfe, reaching for his pen, told me to fork over the dough. I did so. The youth uttered thanks, stowed away the cash and the receipt, and preceded me to the hall. I let him out and put the chain on, and went back in.

  Wolfe was undoing the package, and Cramer was standing across from him, right against the desk, looking down at it. It certainly was an exhibition of bad manners. Wolfe said:

  "You make me nervous, Mr Cramer. Sit down."

  "I'm all right."

  "But I'm not. Take a chair."

  Cramer grunted, backed into the chair I had ready and lowered himself. Wolfe got the wrapping paper opened up and helped himself to an exclusive look at what was inside. Then he gave a little grunt, folded the paper over it again, and handed it to me.

  "Put it in the safe, Archie."

  I did so, closed the door and spun the knob, and returned to my chair.

  Wolfe heaved a deep sigh and then muttered irritably, "That was the break we were waiting for, Mr Cramer."

  The inspector growled, "The break?"

  Wolfe nodded. "A minute ago I said that what you want wasn't here. It is now."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cramer, slowly and carefully as if he wanted to be sure of not sitting on an egg, got more comfortable in his chair, restin
g his back, and lifted a forefinger to rub the side of his nose. Wolfe also was leaning back. His eyes were closed, and his lips began to work in and out. In the silence, the dick in the corner suddenly coughed and I glared at him.

  "Hell," Cramer said mildly, "I'm in no hurry."

  Apparently everyone took him at his word, for the silence continued for another three minutes, and then Wolfe said without opening his eyes:

  "Of your two assumptions, Mr Cramer, the first at least is correct. I doubt if you could get what I've got. Or, considering the attitude of your official superiors, if you did get it I doubt if you'd be able to use it."

  "You'll get no argument from me on that," the inspector asserted. "What have I been saying? And while I know you can handle your affairs without the help of any gratitude from me, still and all-"

  "I know. You're being tactful and adroit. You're dripping honey. Pfui. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you what you want, on condition that you agree without reservation to let me do it my way, without interference or protest."

  "Well." Cramer regarded him with narrowed eyes, but it was one-sided, because Wolfe's eyes were still shut. "That's sort of vague. That you'll give me what I want. Who decides what I want?"

  "Nonsense. I'm not quibbling. You want the identity of the murderer and the motive. I'll give you those."

  "Any evidence?"

  "Enough to satisfy you. And some of it I don't think you'll ever get unless you get it here and soon."

  "Is it that thing in the safe?"

  "Oh, no, you could get that yourself in about twenty-four hours. It took me twenty-five. I'll have to pry off a lid to get the evidence I'm speaking of."

  Cramer eyed him a moment longer and said, "Shoot."

  "Without reservation, no interference or protest from you."

  "Right. Shoot."

  Wolfe opened his eyes at me. "Archie, get Mr Barrett on the phone."

  "Donny or Dad?"

  "Mr Barrett Senior."

  Neya Tormic blurted, "You mustn't-"

  As I got at the phone Wolfe shushed her, and he had to keep on shushing her while I fiddled around with three different numbers before I finally reached the desired party at the Thistle Club. She subsided when Wolfe got on the phone:

  "Mr Barrett? This is Nero Wolfe. I'm calling to fulfil a promise. I told you that if I should find it necessary to interfere with your business I'd let you know in advance. I'm afraid I'm not giving you much notice; I'm going ahead now. No, please, please, that won't help matters any. At my office. Yes. Yes, I'll consent to that. No! If your son is there with you, you'd better bring him along. Yes. We'll be expecting you within fifteen minutes."

  He pushed the phone away and got to his feet, and moved in the direction of the door.

  Neya Tormic jumped up and grabbed at him. She got his sleeve. "Where-I'll go with you-"

  "No, Miss Tormic. I'll be back in a moment. Archie!"

  I arose and started over, but before I got there she let him go, and he went on out. I had no idea what her status was, or her intentions either, so I ambled to the door and stood there with my back against it. She didn't go back and sit down, but stood pat, with her eyes levelled at me, or maybe at the door, since I don't like to flatter myself. We had held the tableau perhaps three minutes, not more than four, when I felt the door pressing against me, and stood aside to let Wolfe re-enter. He halted to hand me an envelope, sealed, with For Neya Tormic on it in his writing, and then went on to his desk.

  He looked at Cramer and indicated with a thumb the dick in the corner. "What is that man's name?"

  "That? Charlie Heath."

  "Tell him to obey the instructions I give him."

  Cramer twisted his neck. "Here, Heath. Follow orders."

  "Thank you." Wolfe regarded the dick, approaching. "Have you a car, Mr Heath?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Take that envelope from Mr Goodwin and put it in your pocket. No, your inside pocket. Take Miss Tormic in your car and drive-"

  Neya was at him: "No! I don't-I'm not going-"

  "That will do," Wolfe snapped. "You are going. I do this my way. Have you any cash with you?"

  "But I won't-"

  "You will! Confound it, how much cash have you?"

  "I… have a little."

  "How much?"

  "A few dollars."

  "Archie, give Miss Tormic a hundred dollars."

  I produced the expense roll and peeled it off, making the roll look pretty sick, and handed it to her, and she took it.

  Wolfe said to the dick. "Drive to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 35th Street, let Miss Tormic out, give her the envelope, leave her there, and return straight here immediately. You are not to loiter to see what she does or which way she goes. Nor are you to communicate in any way with any other person, either going or returning."

  I said grimly, "Send Fred along or let me go."

  "Will that be necessary, Mr Cramer?"

  "No. I'm not a complete damn fool. Follow instructions, Heath."

  "Yes, sir. I take her to Fifth, drop her, give her the envelope, and come straight back."

  Wolfe nodded. "Will you do that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good." He turned. "Au revoir, Miss Tormic."

  "Ah," she said. Her black eyes were piercing him. "You think so?"

  "Well… a conjecture. It wouldn't surprise me any."

  "You… you fat fool!"

  "Yes, I'm fat. And, of course, we're all fools. I'm sorry you won't be here to see the end of this. A silly little victory, but it's mine."

  "Victory!"

  "Yes."

  Her lip curled. She turned and started off. I got to the door and opened it, but before she passed through she halted to fling back at him, "Teega mee bornie roosa" or at least that was what it sounded like. Then she went on, don't-touch-me all over, with the dick at her heels. I let them out, followed them into the November night air, and stood on the stoop to overlook the departure. As well as I could see in the dim light, the dick didn't pass any signal to any colleague, and when they rolled off in the police car they certainly weren't followed.

  I stayed on the stoop long enough to be absolutely sure of that, knowing as I did the lengths a cop will sometimes go to on account of his passion for law and order, and was about to check it off and go back in when a big black town car rolled to the kerb there below me. A chauffeur jumped out and opened the door, and touched his cap when one of the two men who emerged said something to him. They started up the steps, and I recrossed the threshold and turned to welcome two generations of Barretts. I asked them to wait there a minute and went to the office and told Wolfe:

  "Father and son."

  "Bring them in."

  I did that. John P., who hadn't changed his clothes, took the chair Neya had occupied. His face was all tightened up, and the glance that he shot first at Cramer and then at Wolfe was not what I would call conciliatory. I moved up another chair for Donald. He looked so fierce and truculent that I had a notion to go get him a hunk of raw meat. Nobody had seemed to have any inclination to shake hands like gentlemen.

  Wolfe said, "Fred, wait in front."

  Fred went.

  "Archie, take your note-book."

  I took it.

  John P. asked, "Are you Police Inspector Cramer?"

  "Yes, sir," Cramer told him. "Of the Homicide Bureau."

  John P. said to Wolfe, "That's ridiculous. This is a confidential business matter. And telling your man to take his note-book."

  Wolfe leaned back and pressed his five right finger-tips against his five left ones. "No," he said, "I wouldn't call it ridiculous. Mr Cramer's presence is surely appropriate, since one of the things you'll want to do is to try to arrange it so that your son will escape an indictment for first-degree murder."

  Cramer's head jerked around. Donald gawked, and some of the colour leaving his face made him look a little less fierce. John P. betrayed no sign whatever of having heard anything more provocative t
han a remark about the weather. But he clipped off words and lunged with them:

  "That's worse than ridiculous. And more dangerous. That's actionable."

  "So it is." Wolfe's tone sharpened. "I'm coming right out with it, Mr Barrett. My dinner's in an hour, and I don't want to waste time flopping around in a mire of inanities. I hold the cards and I don't have to finesse. Your deal with the Donevitch gang is done for. Accept that. Swallow it. I want to go on from that-"

  "I'd like to see you alone." John P. stood up. "Get them out of here, or take me-"

  "No. Sit down."

  "Sit down for what? You say the deal's done for. Whether it is or isn't, I'm not talking on that basis. There's nothing to talk about. Come, Donald."

  He started off. Wolfe's words hit him in the back:

  "Within an hour a warrant will issue charging your son with murder! It will be too late to talk to me then."

  Donald was up and following his leader. But his leader suddenly wheeled, strode back to confront Cramer, and demanded:

  "You're a responsible police officer. This blackmailing threat is made in your presence. Do you know who I am?… Well?"

  That was a fizzle, in spite of the fact that Cramer hadn't the faintest idea of what was going on. I wouldn't have given an unconditional guarantee on his brains, but there was nothing wrong with his guts.

  "Yeah, I know who you are," he said calmly. "Sit down and give him rope. He owns this house and about a million dollars' worth of orchids. It's a good thing you've got me here as a witness in case you try for damages."

  Wolfe snorted irritably, "Get out if you want to and take the consequences. You're acting like a schoolgirl in a pet. Can't you see I've got something to say and the best of your alternatives is to sit down and listen to it? Do you take me for a maudlin blatherskite?"

  Donald blurted, "He's a goddam bluffer-"

  A look from his father cut him off, and a jerk of his father's head ordered him back to his chair. Donald sat down. John P. did the same and told Wolfe curtly:

  "Say it."