Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe

by Three at Wolfe's Door

  Irving was staring again. “My wife? You have seen my wife?”

  “Mr. Goodwin has. He called at your home this morning to see you, and you had gone. Your wife wished to be helpful. You know, of course, what she told him.”

  “Did she tell him—” He stopped and started over. “Did she tell him about a phone call she made yesterday afternoon?”

  Wolfe nodded. “And one she received. She received one from you and made one to Miss Arden.”

  Irving inclined his head forward to look at his right hand. Its fingers bent, slowly, to make a fist. Apparently something about the operation was unsatisfactory, for he repeated it several times, gazing at it. At length his head came up. “My lawyer wouldn’t like this,” he said, “but I’m going to tell you something. I have to if I expect you to tell me anything. If I told you what I told my wife you would check it, and it won’t check. I know Miss Holt drove Judy Bram’s cab there last evening. I know she got there at five minutes to eight and left at ten minutes to nine. I saw her.”

  “Indeed. Where were you?”

  “I was in a cab parked on Carmine Street, around the corner from Ferrell Street. I suppose you know what her purpose was in driving Judy’s cab?”

  “Yes. To talk with her husband.”

  “I had tried to persuade her not to. Did she tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t like it. There isn’t much that Kearns isn’t capable of. I don’t mean violence; just some trick like getting her out of the cab and going off with it. I decided to be there, and I phoned my wife that I would have to spend the evening with a business associate. I was afraid if I took my car Miss Holt might recognize it, so I got a taxi with a driver I know. Carmine Street is one-way, and we parked where we would be ready to follow when she came out of Ferrell Street. We were there when she arrived, at five minutes to eight. When she came back, nearly an hour later, she was alone. There was no one in the cab. I supposed Kearns had refused to let her drive him, and I was glad of it.”

  “What then?”

  “I went to my club. If you want to check I’ll give you the cab driver’s name and address. I rang Judy Bram’s number, and I rang Miss Holt’s number three or four times, but there was no answer. I supposed they were out somewhere together. And this morning I heard the radio and saw the paper.” He breathed. “I hope to heaven I won’t have to regret telling you this. If it contradicts anything she told you she’s right and I’m wrong. I could be lying, you know, for my own protection.”

  I was thinking, If so you’re an expert.

  Wolfe’s eyes, at him, were half closed. “It was dark. How could you know there was no one in the cab?”

  “There’s a light at that corner. I have good eyes and so has the driver. She was going slow, for the turn.”

  “You didn’t follow her?”

  “No. There was no point in following her if Kearns wasn’t with her.”

  “What would you say if I told you that Miss Holt saw you in your parked taxi as she drove by?”

  “I wouldn’t believe it. When she drove by arriving I was flat on the seat. It was dark but I didn’t risk her seeing me. When she left she didn’t drive by. Carmine Street is one-way.”

  Wolfe leaned back and shut his eyes, and his lips began to work. Irving started to say something, and I snapped at him, “Hold it.” Wolfe pushed his lips out and pulled them in, out and in, out and in. … He was earning the twenty-five bucks I had paid him. I had no idea how, but when he starts that lip operation the sparks are flying inside his skull.

  Irving tried again. “But I want—”

  “Hold it.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Shut up!”

  He sat regarding me, not warmly.

  Wolfe opened his eyes and straightened. “Mr. Irving.” He was curt. “You will get what you came here for, but not forthwith. Possibly within the hour, probably somewhat later. Tell me where I can reach you, or you may—”

  “Damn it, no! I want—”

  “If you please. Confound it, I’ve been yelped at enough today. Or you may wait here. That room has comfortable chairs—or one at least. Mr. Goodwin and I have work to do.”

  “I don’t intend—”

  “Your intentions have no interest or point. Where can we reach you?”

  Irving looked at me and saw nothing hopeful. He arose. “I’ll wait here,” he said, and headed for the front room.

  IX

  Having turned my head to see that Irving shut the door, I turned it back again. “Fine,” I said. “We’re going to work.”

  “I’m a dunce,” he said. “So are you.”

  “It’s possible,” I conceded. “Can you prove it?”

  “It’s manifest. Why did that policeman stop his car to look inside that cab?”

  “Cops do. That’s what a prowl car is for. They saw it parked with the hackie gone, and while that’s nothing strange they thought it was worth a look. Also it was parked in front of your house. He knew it was your house. He said so.”

  “Nevertheless, we are dunces not to have questioned it. I want to know if that policeman had been prompted. At once.”

  “It’s a point,” I admitted. “The papers haven’t mentioned it. I doubt if Cramer would—”

  “No.”

  “I could try Lon Cohen.”

  “Do so.”

  I swiveled and dialed the Gazette number, and got Lon. Wolfe lifted his receiver to listen in. I told Lon I wanted something for nothing. He said I always did and usually got it, but if what I was after this time was an ad under “Situations Wanted” I would have to pay.

  “That was just a dirty rumor,” I said. “I am permanently in Mr. Wolfe’s employ—permanently, that is, in the sense that I may still be here tomorrow. On our present job we’re shy a detail. If you’ll supply it I’ll give you something for the front page if and when. We don’t know whether the cop who stopped to uncover Phoebe Arden’s body in the taxi had been steered or was just nosy. Do you?”

  “Yes, but I’m not supposed to. The DA is saving it. He may release it this afternoon. If he does I’ll call you.”

  “We need it now. Not for publication, and we wouldn’t dream of quoting you. We’re just curious.”

  “I’ll bet you are. I wish I got paid as much for being curious as Wolfe does. Okay. It was a dialed phone call to Canal six, two thousand. Probably a man, but it could have been a woman trying to sound like a man or the reverse. It said there was a taxi standing in front of nine-eighteen West Thirty-fifth Street with a dead woman in it. As you know, that address has been heard from before. The sergeant radioed a prowl car.”

  “Has the call been traced?”

  “How? Modern improvements. But you’d better ask the DA.”

  “A good idea. I will. Many thanks and I won’t forget the front page.” I hung up and swiveled. “I’ll be damned. Where can we buy dunce caps? For a passerby to see it he would have had to open the door and lift the canvas.”

  Wolfe’s lips were tight. “We should have done that hours ago.”

  “Lon may not have known hours ago.”

  “True. Even so. Get Mr. Cramer.”

  I swiveled and dialed. It wasn’t as simple as getting Lon Cohen had been. Cramer was in conference and couldn’t be disturbed. I was hacking away at it when Wolfe took his phone and said, “This is Nero Wolfe. I have something that will not wait. Ask Mr. Cramer if he prefers that I deal with the District Attorney.”

  In two minutes there was a bark. “What do you want?”

  “Mr. Cramer?” He knew darned well it was.

  “Yes. I’m busy.”

  “So am I. Is it true that Miss Holt refuses to talk without advice from Mr. Goodwin or me?”

  “Yes, it is, and I was just telling Stebbins to get Goodwin down here. And then I’m going—”

  “If you please. Mr. Goodwin and I have decided that it is now desirable for Miss Holt to answer any questions you care to ask—or that it will b
e after we have had a brief talk with her. Since I must be present and I transact business only in my own office, it will be pointless for you to send for him. If you want her to talk bring her here.”

  “You’re too late, Wolfe. I don’t need her to tell me that she drove that cab to your address. I already know it. Her prints are on the steering wheel and the door, and other places. You’re too late.”

  “Has she admitted it?”

  “No, but she will.”

  “I doubt it. She’s rather inflexible. I regret having called you to the phone to no purpose. May I make a request? Don’t keep Mr. Goodwin longer than necessary. I am about to conclude a matter in which he has an interest and would like him present. I wanted Miss Holt here too, but since I’m too late I’ll have to manage without her.”

  Silence. Prolonged.

  “Are you there, Mr. Cramer?”

  “Yes. So you’re going to conclude a matter.”

  “I am. Soon afterwards Miss Holt and Mr. Goodwin and I will talk not by your sufferance but at our will.”

  “Are you saying that you know who killed Phoebe Arden?”

  “‘Know’ implies certitude. I have formed a conclusion and intend to verify it. It shouldn’t take long. But I’m keeping you. Could you do without Mr. Goodwin until, say, four o’clock? It’s half past twelve. By then we should have finished.”

  Another silence, not quite so long. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Cramer said.

  “With Miss Holt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Satisfactory. But not in fifteen minutes. I must get Judith Bram and Waldo Kearns. Do you know where they are?”

  “Kearns is at his home. He said he would be if we wanted him again. Judith Bram is here. I’ll bring her along, and I’ll send for Kearns. Now.”

  “No, people have to eat. Will you lunch with us? And Miss Holt?”

  “I will not. Did you ever skip a meal in your life?”

  “Many times when I was younger, by necessity. Then I suggest that you arrive with Miss Holt at two o’clock, and arrange for Miss Bram and Mr. Kearns to come at two-thirty. Will that be convenient?”

  “By God. Convenient!”

  A click. He was off. We hung up. I said, “Probably Irving eats too.”

  “Yes. Bring him.”

  I went and got him. He marched to Wolfe’s desk and demanded, “Well?”

  Wolfe’s head slanted back. “I forgot, sir, when I said possibly within the hour, that lunch would interfere. It will be a little longer. I have spoken with Inspector Cramer, and he will arrive with Miss Holt at two o’clock. We shall expect you and your wife to join us at two-thirty.”

  His jaw was working. “Miss Holt will be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why my wife?”

  “Because she has something to contribute. As you know, she had an appointment with Miss Arden which Miss Arden did not keep. That will be germane.”

  “Germane to what?”

  “To our discussion.”

  “I don’t want a discussion. I certainly don’t want one with a police inspector. I told you what I want.”

  “And you’ll get it, sir, but the method and manner are in my discretion. I give you my assurance without qualification that I am acting solely in the interest of Miss Holt, that I expect to free her of any suspicion of complicity in the murder of Phoebe Arden, and that I shall not disclose what you have told me of your movements last evening without your prior permission. Confound it, do I owe you anything?”

  “No.” His jaw was still working. “I’d rather not bring my wife.”

  “We’ll need her. If you prefer, I’ll arrange for Inspector Cramer to send for her.”

  “No.” He breathed. He looked at me and back at Wolfe. “All right. We’ll be here.” He wheeled and went.

  X

  Five of the yellow chairs were in place facing Wolfe’s desk, three in front and two behind, and Mira was in the one nearest to Cramer. I had intended the one at my end for her, but Cramer had vetoed it, and since she was his prisoner I hadn’t insisted. Of course he was in the red leather chair, and the uninvited guest he had brought along, Sergeant Purley Stebbins, was seated at his right, with his broad, burly shoulders touching the wall.

  Mira looked fine, considering. Her eyes were a little heavy and the lids were swollen, and her jacket could have stood washing and ironing, and the corners of her mouth pointed down, but I thought she looked fine. Wolfe, seated behind his desk, was glowering at her, but the glower wasn’t meant for her. It was merely that he had had to tell Fritz to advance the lunch hour fifteen minutes, and then had had to hurry through the corn fritters and sausage cakes and wild-thyme honey from Greece and cheese and blackberry pie with not enough time to enjoy it properly.

  “Was it bad?” he asked her.

  “Not too bad,” she said. “I didn’t get too much sleep. The worst was when the morning passed and I didn’t hear from you.” Her head turned. “Or you, Mr. Goodwin.”

  I nodded. “I was busy earning my fee. I wasn’t worried about you because you had promised you wouldn’t forget method three.”

  “I kept my promise.”

  “I know you did. I’ll buy you a drink any time you’re thirsty.”

  “Get on,” Cramer growled.

  “Have you been told,” Wolfe asked her, “that others will join us shortly?”

  “No,” she said. “Here? Who?”

  “Miss Bram, Mr. Kearns, and Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Irving.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why Mr. and Mrs. Irving?”

  “That will appear after they arrive. I thought you should know that they’re coming. They’ll soon be here, and we have two points to cover. First I need a question answered. When you drove away from Ferrell Street last evening, and meandered in search of a place to dispose of the corpse—don’t interrupt me—and finally drove here, did you at any time suspect that you were being followed by another car?”

  Her mouth was hanging open. “But you—” she stammered. Her head jerked to me. “Did you know he was—what good did it do to keep my promise?”

  “A lot,” I told her. “Yes, I knew he was. Everything is under control. Believe me. I would rather lose an arm than lose the right to ask you to promise me something. We know what we’re doing. Shall I repeat the question?”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Leave it to us. Shall I repeat the question?”

  “Yes.”

  I did so, omitting the “don’t interrupt me.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Proceed,” Wolfe told me.

  I knew it would have been better to have her closer. She was six yards away. “This one is more complicated and more important. During that drive, from Ferrell Street to here, are you certain that another car was not following you? There are various ways of making sure of that. Did you use any of them?”

  “No. I never thought of that. I was looking for a place—”

  “I know you were. All we want is this: if I told you that a car was following you, all the way, what would you say?”

  “I would want to know who it was.”

  I wanted to go and pat her on the head, but it might have been misconstrued. “Okay,” I said. “That’s one point. The other one is simple. Tell Inspector Cramer what you told us last night, including the phone call to Gilbert Irving to tell him that you were going to drive Judy’s cab.” I looked at my wrist. “You only have fifteen minutes, so reel it off.”

  “I won’t,” she said. “Not until you tell me why you’re doing this.”

  “Then I’ll tell him. You’ll know why after the others get here. I’ll tell you this: someone tried to frame you for murder and this is payday. Anyway there’s not much left, now that the inspector knows you drove the cab here with the corpse in it. Would we have spilled that if we didn’t have a good hold? Go ahead.”

  Wolfe put in, “Don’t interrupt with questions, Mr. Cramer. They can wait. Yes, Miss Holt?”

  She
still didn’t like it, not a bit, but she delivered, starting with Sunday evening. She left gaps. She didn’t say that Judy had given her permission to take the cab, merely that she had taken it, and she didn’t mention the phone call to Irving; but since I had already mentioned it that didn’t matter. The main thing was what had happened after she got to Ferrell Street with the cab, and she covered that completely; and when she got to where she and I had sat on the stoop and talked, Cramer began cutting in with questions. I will not say that he was more interested in tagging me for obstructing justice than he was in solving a murder case, since I don’t like to brag, but it sounded like it. He was firing away at her, and Sergeant Stebbins was scrawling in his notebook, when the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. It was Waldo Kearns. When I took him to the office he went to Mira, without so much as a glance for the three men, and put out a hand.

  “My dear wife,” he said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mira said.

  I can’t report whether he handled that as well as he had handled the uppercut by Irving because the bell rang again and I had to leave them, to admit Judy Bram. She had an escort, a Homicide dick I only knew by sight, and he thought he was going to enter with her and I didn’t, and while we were discussing it she slipped in and left it to us. We were still chatting when a taxi stopped out front and Mr. and Mrs. Irving got out and headed for the steps. The dick had to give them room to pass, and I was able to shut the door on him without flattening his nose. Since it was quite possible that Irving’s appearance would start something I entered the office on their heels.

  Nothing happened. Mira merely shot him a glance and he returned it. Kearns didn’t even glance at him. The newcomers stood while Wolfe pronounced their names for Cramer and Stebbins and told them who Cramer and Stebbins were, and then went to the two chairs still vacant, the two nearest my desk. Mrs. Irving took the one in front, with Judy between her and Mira, and her husband took the one back of her, which put him only a long arm’s length from Waldo Kearns.

  As Wolfe’s eyes moved from right to left, stopping at Mira, and back again, Cramer spoke. “You understand that this is not an official inquiry. Sergeant Stebbins and I are looking on. You also understand that Mira Holt is under arrest as a material witness. If she had been charged with murder she wouldn’t be here.”