I had absent-mindedly folded the paper and put it in the envelope and was sticking it in my pocket. “Sure,” I said, “take it.” He took it. “It’s somewhat of a problem. Let me think.” I sat and thought a minute. “It looks to me,” I said, “that you’re probably right, the first thing to do is to check it. But the police are probably still tailing all of you. Have you been going to libraries the last few days?”
“No. I decided not to. I don’t know my way around in any library here, and those two women, Frazee and Tescher, have got too big an advantage. I decided to fight it instead.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Then if a cop tails you to a library now, only two days to the deadline, they’ll wonder why you started in all of a sudden, and they’ll want to know. The man I work for, Nero Wolfe, is quite a reader and he has quite a library. I noticed the titles of the books mentioned on that thing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has all of them. Also it wouldn’t hurt any for you to consult him about this.”
“I’m consulting you.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t got the library with me. And if a cop tails you to his place it won’t matter. They know he’s representing Lippert, Buff and Assa about the contest, and all the contestants have been there except you.”
“That’s what I don’t like. He’s representing them and I’m fighting them.”
“Then you shouldn’t have showed it to me. I work for Mr. Wolfe, and if you think I won’t tell him about it you’ll have to take back what you said the other day about not making a fool of yourself for twenty-six years. Crap.”
He looked pleased. “See,” he said, “you remembered that.”
“I remember everything. So the choice is merely whether I tell Mr. Wolfe or you tell him, and if you do you can use his library.”
He was no wobbler. He went and opened a closet door and got out a hat and topcoat. As he was putting an arm in he said, “I don’t suppose you drink in the morning.”
“No, thanks.” I was headed for the door. “But if you want one go ahead.”
“I quit twenty-six years ago.” He motioned for me to precede him, followed, pulled the door shut, and tried it to make sure it was locked. “But,” he added, “now that I can afford little luxuries, thanks to my son-in-law, I like to have some around for other people.” As we turned the corner of the hall he finished, “Some other people.” On the way down in the elevator it occurred to me that he would want the verses to refer to, and I asked if he had them with him, and he said yes.
To make sure whether your taxi is being followed in midtown traffic takes a lot of maneuvering, which takes time, and Younger and I decided we didn’t really give a damn, so except for a few backward glances out of curiosity we skipped it. At the curb in front of the old brownstone on West Thirty-fifth I paid the driver, got out, led the way up the steps to the stoop, and pushed the button. In a moment the door was opened by Fritz, who, as I was taking Younger’s coat, made sure I saw his extended forefinger, meaning that a visitor was in the office with Wolfe. Acknowledging it with a nod, I ushered Younger across the hall into the front room, told him it would be a short wait, and, instead of using the connecting door to the office, which was soundproofed, went around by way of the hall.
Wolfe was in his chair, with half a dozen books in front of him on his desk, but he wasn’t reading. He was frowning at Mrs. James R. Wheelock of Richmond, Virginia, who was in the red leather chair, frowning back at him. The frowns switched to me as I approached. I was a little slow meeting them because it took me a second to get the title of the book on top of the pile: The Letters of Dorothy Osborne to Sir William Temple. With that, which was enough, I told Mrs. Wheelock good morning, informed Wolfe that Fritz wanted him in the kitchen for something, and walked out.
When he joined me in the kitchen the frown was gone and there was a gleam in his eye. I spoke first. “I just wanted to ask you if she has any idea who mailed her the answers.”
It got him for half a second. Then he said, “Oh. Mr. Younger got them too?”
“He did. That’s what he wanted to see me about. He’s in the front room. He wanted to find out if the answers are the real thing, and I told him he could use your library, but I see Mrs. Wheelock had the same idea.”
“No. She merely wished to tell me, and consult me. I suggested looking at the books; luckily I had all of them. I hadn’t hoped for anything as provocative as this. Very satisfactory.”
“Yeah. Worth waiting for. A slight comedown for me, to bring home a slab of bacon and find you’re already slicing one just like it, but anyhow we’ve got it. Shall I send mine back?”
“By no means.” He pursed his lips, and in a moment continued, “I’ll tell her. You tell him. Bring him in in three minutes.” He was gone.
I returned to the front room and found Younger on a chair by a window with a sheet of paper in each hand, one presumably being the verses. “You’re not the only one,” I told him. “Mrs. Wheelock got it too, and came to show it to Mr. Wolfe. She’s in there with him now. He has the books, and they’ve checked the answers, and it’s not a gag.”
He squinted at me. “She got—just like this?”
“I haven’t seen it, but of course it is.”
“And they’ve checked it?”
“Right.”
He stood up. “I want to see hers. Where is she?”
“You will.” I looked at my wrist. “In one minute and twenty seconds.”
“I’ll be damned. Then it’s not a frame. That was one thing I thought, that someone was trying to frame me, but I couldn’t see how. She got it in the mail this morning?”
I told him she would no doubt be glad to supply all details, and right at the deadline crossed to open the door to the office and invited him in. He brushed on by, went straight to Mrs. Wheelock, and demanded, “Where’s the one you got?”
I went and took his elbow, called his attention to Wolfe, steered him to a chair, and told Wolfe, “Mr. Younger wants details. Is hers like his and when did she get it and so on.”
Wolfe lifted a sheet of paper from his desk blotter. Younger popped up from his chair and went to him. I joined them, and so did Mrs. Wheelock. It didn’t take much comparing to see that hers was a carbon copy of his. The envelopes, including the postmarks, were the same except for the names. When Younger had satisfied himself on those points he picked up one of the books, Casanova’s Memoirs, and opened it. Mrs. Wheelock told him that wasn’t necessary, they were the right answers, no question about it. She didn’t look as if she had changed her attitude to the food at the Churchill, but the fire back of her dark deep-set eyes was shining through in her excitement. Younger went ahead anyway, finding a page in the book, and we were still grouped at Wolfe’s desk when the phone rang.
I went to my desk to answer it, and got from the receiver the same old refrain. “I want to speak to Mr. Wolfe. This is Talbott Heery.”
But the lid was off, maybe. I told Wolfe, and he took his instrument, and I kept mine.
“This is Nero Wolfe. Yes, Mr. Heery?”
“I’m calling from my office. Harold Rollins, one of the contestants, is here. He just came, a few minutes ago, to show me something he received in the mail this morning. I have it here in my hand. It’s a typewritten sheet of paper, headed, ‘Answers to the five verses distributed on April twelfth,’ and then the names of five women and comments on each. Of course I don’t know whether they are the correct answers or not, but Rollins says they are. He says he came to me because this nullifies the contest, and my company is responsible. I’ll consult my lawyer on that—not Rudolph Hansen—but I’m calling you first. What have you got to say?”
“Not much offhand. Mr. Rollins is with you?”
“He’s in my office. I came to another room to phone. By God, this does it. Now what?”
“That needs a little thought. You may tell Mr. Rollins that he was not singled out. Mrs. Wheelock and Mr. Younger also received sheets in the mail like the one you describe. They are here on
my desk—that is, the sheets are. Mrs. Wheelock and Mr. Younger are here with me. Probably all five—”
“We’ve got to do something! We’ve got—”
“Please, Mr. Heery.” For years I have studied Wolfe’s trick of stopping a man without raising his voice, but I still don’t get it. “Something must indeed be done, I agree, but this doesn’t heighten the urgency. Rather the contrary. I can’t discuss it now, and anyway I’m not working for you, but I think this will require a conference of everyone concerned. Please tell Mr. Rollins that he will be expected at a meeting at my office at nine o’clock this evening. I’ll invite the others, and I invite you now. At my office at nine o’clock, unless you hear otherwise.”
“But what are we going—”
“No, Mr. Heery. You must excuse me. I’m busy. Goodbye, sir.”
We hung up, and he turned to the company. “Mr. Rollins got one too and took it to Mr. Heery. It may reasonably be presumed that the other two—Miss Frazee and Miss Tescher—were not excluded. You heard what I said about a meeting here at nine o’clock this evening, and we shall want you with us. You’ll come?”
“We’re here now,” Younger said. “This blows the whole thing sky high and you know it. Why put it off? Get them here now!”
“I don’t want to wait until this evening,” Mrs. Wheelock said, her voice so tense that I inspected her for signs of trembling, but saw none.
“You’ll have to, madam.” Wolfe was blunt. “I have to digest this strange finesse, and consult my clients.” He looked up at the clock. “Only nine hours.”
“You never answered my question,” she complained. “Must I show this to the police and let them take it?” Her sheet was in her hand, and Younger had his.
“As you please—or rather, as you will. If you don’t, when they learn that you got it, as of course they will, they’ll be ruffled, but they are already. Suit yourself.”
I was up and halfway to the door, to escort them out, but they weren’t coming. They wanted to know what was what, then and there. Younger was so stubborn that I finally had to take his arm and put a little pressure on, and by the time I got him to the front, with his hat and coat on, and over the threshold to the stoop, he was in no humor to offer me a drink. They left together, and I hoped Younger would give Mrs. Wheelock a lift back to the hotel. She didn’t have the physique or the vigor for a midtown bus.
I returned to the office and told Wolfe, “I know you like to do your own digesting, but one thing occurs to me. As far as the contest is concerned, it no longer matters who lifted the wallet. They’ve all got the answers now and there’ll have to be a new deal, so what’s left of our job?”
He grunted. “We still have it. You know what I was hired to do.”
“Yes, sir. I ought to. But what if the client has lost interest in what you were hired to do?”
“We’ll handle that contingency when we face it. For the immediate present there is enough to occupy us. I told you that with such tension something was sure to snap, though I must confess that I hadn’t listed this among the possibilities. You will phone the others, all of them, and notify them of the meeting this evening, but from the kitchen or your room. I have to work. I haven’t the slightest idea what course to take at the meeting, and I must contrive one. Now that this has happened we must move quickly, or you will be quite right—there will be no job left. I may need—confound it!”
The phone was ringing. I had it off the cradle automatically before remembering that my base of operations had been moved. An urgent male voice gave me not a request but an order, and I covered the transmitter and turned to Wolfe. “Buff. Exploding. You and only you.”
He reached for his receiver. I stayed with mine.
Chapter 15
Nero Wolfe spea—”
“This is Buff. Is your wire tapped?”
“Not to my knowledge. I think we must assume it isn’t, just as we assume an atom bomb won’t interrupt us. Otherwise life becomes—”
“I couldn’t reach Hansen so I got you.” Buff’s words were piling up. “A city detective is here, a Lieutenant Rowcliff, in my office. I came to another room to phone. He says that they have information that one of the contestants, Susan Tescher, received in the mail this morning a list of the answers to the five verses. Before he told me that he had asked me how many copies of the answers were in existence, and I told him what we have been telling them all along, just the one in the safe deposit box as far as we know. We haven’t mentioned the copy Goodwin took. But with that woman getting a copy in the mail, the police—”
“One moment, Mr. Buff. Three of the other contestants also received copies in the mail, and I suppose—”
“Three others! Then what—who sent them?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t, and Mr. Goodwin didn’t.”
“Where’s the copy he took?”
“In the inner compartment of my safe. That’s where he put it, and it must still be there. Hold the wire a moment while he looks.”
I put my receiver down, went to the safe, swung the outer door open, and got at the dial of the four-way combination of the inner door. It takes a little time. Opening the door, there on top of the stack of papers I saw the leaves from my notebook. I took them out, made sure all four were there, returned them, shut the door and the outer door, announced to Wolfe, “Intact,” and went back to my chair and picked up the receiver.
Wolfe spoke. “Mr. Buff? Mr. Goodwin’s copy has remained in my safe and is there now. Mrs. Wheelock and Mr. Younger have been to see me, and Mr. Heery has phoned me that Mr. Rollins was in his office. Have you heard from Mr. Heery?”
“Yes. He phoned Assa. We were just going to call you when this detective came. What’s this about a meeting?”
“There will be one at nine o’clock this evening, at my office, for all those concerned. Mr. Goodwin was going—”
“That can wait.” Buff was sounding more like a top executive than he had before. “What about the police? We’ve lied to them. We’ve told them that we know of no copy except the one in the safe deposit box. I have just repeated it to this detective. He’s waiting in my office. What about it?”
“Well.” Wolfe was judicious. “You were not under oath. The police have been lied to informally many times by many people, including me. The right to lie in the service of your own interests is highly valued and frequently exercised. However, the police are investigating a murder, and now the number of extant copies of the answers will be of vital concern to them. Hitherto they would have been annoyed at discovery of your lie; if you fail to disclose it now and they discover it later they will be enraged. I suggest that you disclose it immediately.”
“Admit we all lied?”
“Certainly. There is no depravity attached and there can be no penalty. No man should tell a lie unless he is shrewd enough to recognize the time for renouncing it, if and when it comes, and knows how to renounce it gracefully. About the meeting this evening—”
“We can discuss that later. I’ll call you.”
He was off. Wolfe cradled the receiver, pushed the phone to one side, heaved a sigh clear down to where a strip of his yellow shirt showed between his vest and pants, as usual, leaned back, and shut his eyes.
“Of course you know,” I said, “that that will bring us company.”
“It can’t be helped,” he muttered.
Since the phone numbers of LBA and the Churchill were in my head, the only ones I had to scribble in my notebook were Clock magazine and Hansen’s and Heery’s offices. That done, I went to the kitchen, where Fritz was putting some lamb hearts to soak in sour milk and an assortment of herbs and spices, asked if I could use his phone, and started in. Four of them—Wheelock, Younger, Heery, and Buff—had already been invited and would get a reminder call later. Presumably Rollins had also been invited, but that had to be checked. I got two of them without much difficulty, O’Garro and Assa, on one call, but had a hell of a time with the others. Four different calls to Gertrude Fr
azee’s room, eighteen-fourteen, at the Churchill, in a period of forty minutes, got me no answer. Three calls failed to land Rudolph Hansen, but he finally called back, and of course had to speak to Wolfe. I stood pat that he couldn’t, and though he refused to accept the invitation to the meeting, I knew nothing could keep him away. I also got Harold Rollins, who told me in one short superior sentence that he would be present and hung up.
Susan Tescher was a tough one. First Clock told me she was in conference. Then Clock said she wasn’t there today. I asked for Mr. Knudsen, the tall and bony one, but he had stepped out. I asked for Mr. Schultz, the tall and broad one, and he was engaged. I asked for Mr. Hibbard, the tall and skinny one, of the legal staff, and darned if I didn’t get him. I told him about the meeting, and who would be there, and said that if Miss Tescher didn’t come she might find herself tomorrow morning confronted with a fait accompli, knowing as I did that any lawyer would feel that a guy who used words like fait accompli was a man to be reckoned with. As I was starting to dial the Churchill number for another stab at Miss Frazee, the doorbell rang. I went to the hall for a look through the panel, then opened the door to the office. Apparently Wolfe hadn’t moved a muscle.
I announced, “Stebbins.”
He opened his eyes. “At least it’s better than Mr. Cramer. Bring him in.”
I went and unbolted the door, swung it wide, and said hospitably, “Hello there. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’ll bet you have.” He marched on by me, making quite an air wash, and on by the rack, removing his hat as he entered the office. By the time I attended to the door and caught up he was standing in front of Wolfe’s desk and talking. “… the copy of the contest answers that Goodwin made last Wednesday. Where is it?”
If you want to see Purley Stebbins at his worst you should see him with Nero Wolfe. He knows that on the record of the evidence, of which there is plenty, Wolfe is more than a match for him and Cramer put together, and by his training and experience evidence is all that counts, but he can’t believe it and he won’t. The result is that he talks too loud and too fast. I have seen Purley at work with different kinds of characters, taking his time with both his head and his tongue, and he’s not bad at all. He hates to come at Wolfe, so he always comes himself instead of passing the buck.
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