by Rex Stout
“Double wake,” she said. “I just thought that up.” She focused on us as we approached. “I thought up another one too. My husband liked what the ads said, go now, pay later. Eat now, pay later. I thought up kill now, pay later. I like it. I hope you like it.” She didn’t move.
It had been fairly obvious on the phone that she was tight, and she must have had another go. Under control and in order, she could have been a fine specimen, with big dark eyes and a wide warm mouth, but not at the moment. Elma had started to offer a hand but changed her mind. I said distinctly, “Mrs. Ashby, Miss Vassos. I’m Archie Goodwin. May we come in?”
“You’re a surprise,” she told Elma. “You’re so little. Not teeny, but little. He liked big girls, like me, only he made exceptions. You’ve got a nerve, suing me for a million dollars. I ought to be suing you for what he spent on you. Did he give you a gold flower with a pearl in the middle? You haven’t got it on. There was one in a Jensen box when I went there that morning, the day he got killed. Kill now, pay later. I like it. I hope you like it.” She fluttered a hand. “Thank you for coming, thank you very much. I just wanted to look at you. My God, you’re little.”
I was smiling at her, a broad, friendly smile. “About that gold flower with a pearl in the middle, Mrs. Ashby. That you saw on his desk Monday morning. You didn’t expect Miss Vassos to be wearing that, did you?”
“Certainly not. They’ve got that one, the police. I told them I saw it there and they said they had it.” Her eyes went back to Elma, with an effort. “Of course you’ve got one. They all got one. Eighty bucks at Jensen’s, sometimes more.”
Elma parted her lips to say something, but I got in ahead. “I suppose your husband was in his room when you were there Monday morning, Mrs. Ashby? What time was it?”
“It was ten o’clock.” She grinned at me. “You’re a detective.” She pointed a wobbly finger at me. “Answer yesh or no.”
“Yes, but I’m not a cop.”
“I know, I know. Nero Wolfe. Look here, if I’m high I know it. I know what I said and what I signed. I went there that morning at ten o’clock, and I knocked on the door, and he opened it, and I went in, and he gave me forty dollars, and I came out, and I went and bought a pair of shoes with the forty dollars because the accounts at the stores had been stopped.” She straightened up, swaying a little, reached and caught the edge of the door, backed up, and swung the door shut with a loud slam.
I could have stuck a foot in to stop it, but didn’t bother. The shape she was in, it would have taken more than intelligence guided by experience to sort her out, and I already had a better fact than I had expected to get, that she had been in Ashby’s room Monday morning and the cops knew it. Of course they had checked it, and if the clerk who sold her the shoes had confirmed her timetable she was out. Maybe. I followed Elma to the elevator.
In the taxi Elma said nothing until it stopped at Fifth Avenue for a red light, then turned her head to me and blurted, “It’s so ugly!”
I nodded. “Yeah. I told you she’d be hard to take, but I had to have a look at her. That kill now, pay later, that’s okay, but the trouble is who does the paying?”
“Did she kill him?”
“Pass. She says he left her nothing but debts.”
“It’s so ugly. I don’t want to sue her. Couldn’t we stop it, I mean for her?”
I patted her shoulder. “Quit fussing. The damage has been done, and whoever gets it now has got it coming. You came and asked Mr. Wolfe for something and you’re going to get it, so relax. You have just convinced me, absolutely, that you never went very far with Ashby. Knowing you were going to meet Mrs. Ashby, you put your lipstick on crooked. Not that I had any real doubt, but that settles it.”
She opened her bag and got out her mirror.
Paying the hackie at the curb in front of the old brownstone, mounting the stoop with Elma, and using my key, I was surprised to find that the chain bolt was on, since it was only five-thirty and Wolfe would still be up in the plant rooms. I was starting my finger to the button when the door opened and Fritz was there; he must have been in the hall on the lookout. He had his finger to his lips, so I kept my voice low to ask as we entered, “Company?”
He took Elma’s coat and put it on a hanger as I attended to mine, then turned. “Three of them, two men and a woman, in the office. Mr. Mercer, Mr. Horan, and Miss Cox. The door is closed. I don’t like this, Archie, I never do, you know that, having to watch people-”
“Sure. But if they brought a bomb it won’t go off till they leave.” I didn’t bother about my voice since the office was soundproofed, including the door. “When did they come?”
“Just ten minutes ago. Mr. Wolfe said to tell them to come back in an hour, but they insisted, and he said to put them in the office and stay in the hall. I told him I was making glace de viande, but he said one of them is a murderer. I want to do my share, you know that, Archie, but I can’t make good glace de viande if I have to be watching murderers.”
“Certainly not. But he could be wrong. It’s possible that Miss Vassos and I have just been interviewing the murderer, who is plastered.” I turned to Elma. “This could be even uglier, so why don’t you go up to your room? If you’re needed later we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goodwin,” she said and headed for the stairs. Fritz made for the kitchen, and I followed. He went to the big table, which was loaded with the makings of meat glaze, and, after getting the milk from the refrigerator and pouring a glass, I went to the small table against the wall, where the house phone was, and buzzed the plant rooms.
“Yes?”
“Me. Miss Vassos has gone to her room and I’m in the kitchen. Report on Mrs. Ashby.” I gave it to him. “So it’s just as well I wasn’t supposed to bring her; I would have had to carry her up the stoop. Notice that I didn’t pry it out of her that she was there Monday morning, she tossed it in. Verdict reserved. Any instructions about the company in the office?”
“No.”
“Do you want me up there?”
“No. I’ve been interrupted enough.” He hung up.
The genius. If he had a program beyond a fishing party, which I doubted, I could guess my part as we went along. I finished the milk, taking my time, and went to the alcove in the hall and slid the panel, uncovering the hole. On the alcove side the hole is an open rectangle; on the office side it is hidden by a picture of a waterfall which you can see through from the alcove.
John Mercer, president of Mercer’s Bobbins, Inc., was leaning back in the red leather chair, patting the chair arms with his palms. His white hair was thin but still there, and he looked more like a retired admiral than a bobbin merchant. Fritz had put yellow chairs in front of Wolfe’s desk for the other two. They were talking in the low voices people use in a doctor’s waiting room, something about a phone call that had or hadn’t come from some customer. Philip Horan was broad-shouldered and long-armed, with a long bony face and quick-moving brown eyes. Frances Cox was a big girl, a real armful, but her poundage was well distributed. Nothing about her smooth smart face suggested that she had been through three tough days, though she must have been. I stayed at the hole, sizing them up, until the sound came of the elevator, then rounded the corner to the office door, opened it, and stayed there as Wolfe entered. He crossed to his desk, stood, and sent his eyes around. He fixed them on Mercer and spoke.
“You are John Mercer?”
“I am.” It came out hoarse, and Mercer cleared his throat. “Miss Frances Cox. Mr. Philip Horan. We want-”
Wolfe cut him off. “If you please.” I had gone to my desk, and he sent me a glance. “Mr. Goodwin.” He stayed on his feet. “I question the propriety of this, Mr. Mercer. Miss Vassos has brought an action at law against you three, and communication should be between her counselor and yours. I’m a detective, not a lawyer.”
Mercer had straightened up. “Your attorney told mine that you had told Miss Vassos to bring the action.”
“
I did.”
“And that she’s here in your house.”
“She is. But you’re not going to see her.”
“Isn’t that a little high-handed?”
“No. It’s merely circumspect. She has resorted to the law to right a wrong; let the lawyers do the talking.”
“But her lawyer won’t talk! He says he won’t discuss it until you have gone further with the investigation!”
Wolfe’s shoulders went up an eighth of an inch and down. “Very well. Then what are you doing here? Did your attorney tell you to come?”
“No. We’re here to tell you there’s nothing to investigate. Have you seen the afternoon paper? The Gazette?”
“No.”
“It’s on the front page. Inside are pictures of us and Inspector Cramer, and you. That kind of sensational publicity is terrible for a respectable business firm, and it’s outrageous. All we’ve done, we’ve answered the questions the police asked us, investigating a murder, and we had to. What is there for you to investigate?”
“A murder. Two murders. In order to establish the ground for Miss Vassos’ action for slander I need to learn who killed Mr. Ashby and Mr. Vassos. It seems discreet and proper for Miss Vassos’ attorney to decline to discuss it with your attorney until I have done so.”
“But that’s ridiculous! Who killed Ashby and Vassos? You learn that? The police already have! My attorney thinks it’s just a blackmailing trick, and I think he’s right!”
Wolfe shook his head. “He’s wrong; attorneys often are. He doesn’t know what I know, that the police have not identified the murderer. The point is this: whoever killed those men is almost certainly responsible for the defamation of Miss Vassos’ character, and I’m going to expose him. The actions brought by her are merely a step in the process, and manifestly a potent one, for here you are, you and Miss Cox and Mr. Horan, and it is highly likely that one of you is the culprit.”
Mercer gawked at him. “One of us?”
“Yes, sir. That’s my working hypothesis, based on a supportable conclusion. You may reject it with disdain and go, or you may stay and discuss it, as you please.”
“You don’t mean it. You can’t mean it!”
“I can and do. That’s what I’m going to investigate. The only way to stop me would be to satisfy me that I’m mistaken.”
“Of course you’re mistaken!”
“Satisfy me.”
Mercer looked at Philip Horan and Frances Cox. They looked back and at each other. Miss Cox said, loud, “It is blackmail.” Horan said, “We should have brought the lawyer.” Miss Cox said, “He wouldn’t come.” Mercer looked at Wolfe and said, “How do you expect us to satisfy you?”
Wolfe nodded. “That’s the question.” He sat, brought the chair forward, and swiveled. “Conceivably you can, and speedily; there’s only one way to find out. Mr. Horan. Did Mr. Vassos ever shine your shoes?”
The doorbell rang. I got up and detoured around the yellow chairs to the hall, and switched on the stoop light. There facing me, his blunt nose almost touching the glass, was Inspector Cramer. From the expression on his big round red face, he hadn’t come to bring the million dollars.
7
IT WAS SOMETIMES NECESSARY, when we had company, to use an alias when announcing a caller who might or might not be welcome, and any name with two Ds in it meant Cramer. I stepped into the office and said, “Mr. Judd.”
“Ah?” Wolfe cocked his head at me. “Indeed.” His brows went up. He turned to the company. “It’s a question. Mr. Cramer of the police is at the door. Shall we have him join us? What do you think?”
They just looked. Not a word.
“I think not,” Wolfe said, “unless you want him.” He pushed his chair back and rose. “You will excuse me.” He headed for the door. I stepped aside to let him by and followed him to the front. He slipped the bolt in, opened the door the two inches the chain would allow, and spoke through the crack. “I’m busy, Mr. Cramer, and I don’t know when I’ll be free. Miss Frances Cox, Mr. John Mercer, and Mr. Philip Horan are with me. I came to tell you instead of sending Mr. Goodwin because it seemed-”
“Open the door!”
“No. I wouldn’t object to your presence while I talk with these people, but you would-”
“I want to see Elma Vassos. Open the door.”
“That’s it.” Wolfe turned his head, and so did I, at a noise from behind. Philip Horan’s head was sticking out at the office door. Wolfe turned back to the crack. “That’s the point. Miss Vassos will not see you. As I have said before, a citizen’s rights vis-a-vis an officer of the law are anomalous and nonsensical. I can refuse to let you into my house, but once I admit you I am helpless. You can roam about at will. You can speak to anyone you choose. I dare not touch you. If I order you to leave you can ignore me. If I call in a policeman to expel an intruder I am laughed at. So I don’t admit you-unless you have a warrant?”
“You know damn well I haven’t. Elma Vassos has filed a complaint against me at your instigation, and I’m going to discuss it with her.”
“Discuss it with her attorney.”
“Bah. Nat Parker. You call the tune and he plays it. Are you going to open this door?”
“No.”
“By God, I will get a warrant.”
“On what ground? I advise you to watch the wording. You can’t claim the right to enter my house in search of evidence. Evidence of what? You can’t charge an attempt to obstruct justice; if you say I’m hindering an official investigation, I ask what investigation? Not of the death of Dennis Ashby; from the published accounts and from what you said to Mr. Goodwin yesterday morning, I understand that that is closed. As for a warrant to search my house for Miss Vassos, that’s absurd. In your official capacity you can assert no right to see her or touch her. She has violated no law by bringing a civil action against you. I advise-”
“She’s a material witness.”
“Indeed. In what matter? The People of the State of New York versus Peter Vassos for the murder of Dennis Ashby? Pfui. Peter Vassos is dead. Or have you abandoned that theory? Do you now think that the one who killed Ashby is still alive? If so, who are the suspects and how can Miss Vassos be a material witness against one or more of them? No, Mr. Cramer; it’s no good; I’m busy; the cold air rushes through this crack; I’m shutting the door.”
“Wait a minute. You know damn well she can’t get me for damages.”
“Perhaps not. But there’s a good chance she can get you put under oath and asked who told you that she had improper relations with Dennis Ashby. Mr. Goodwin asked you that yesterday and you were amused. Offensively. Will you tell me now, not for quotation?”
“No. You know I won’t. Are you saying that she didn’t? That Vassos didn’t kill Ashby?”
“Certainly. That’s why I got those people here. That’s what I’m going to discuss with them. The actions brought-”
“Damn it, Wolfe, open the door!”
“I’m shutting it. If you change your mind about answering my question, you know my phone number.”
Cramer has his points. Knowing that it would be silly to try to stop the door with his foot, since Wolfe and I together weigh 450 pounds, he didn’t. Knowing that if he stood there and shook his fist and made faces we would see him through the one-way glass, he didn’t. He turned and went. Wolfe and I about-faced. Horan was no longer peeking; he had stepped into the hall and was standing there. As we approached he turned and moved inside, and as we entered the office he was speaking.
“It was Inspector Cramer. Wolfe shut the door on him. He’s gone.”
Frances Cox said, loud, “You don’t shut the door on a police inspector.”
“Wolfe does. He did.” Horan was back in his chair. Wolfe and I went to ours. Wolfe focused on Horan.
“To resume. Did Peter Vassos ever shine your shoes?”
Horan’s quick-moving eyes darted to Mercer, but the president was frowning at a corner of Wolfe’s desk and didn’t me
et them. They went back to Wolfe. “No, he didn’t. I suppose what you’re getting at is did I tell Vassos about Ashby and his daughter? I didn’t. I have never seen Vassos. I understand he always came around ten-thirty, and I am never there at that time. I’m out calling on customers. I was there Monday morning and was with Ashby a few minutes, but I left before ten o’clock.”
Wolfe grunted. “Your observed presence there Monday morning is immaterial. Anyone could have got into Ashby’s room unobserved by the door from the hall, including you. I’m not after-”
“Then why pick on us, if anyone could have got in?”
“I have two reasons: a weaker one, the attack on Miss Vassos’ character, and a stronger one, which I reserve. I’m not after who told Vassos about Ashby and his daughter; I don’t think anybody did; I’m after who told the police. Did you?”
“I answered their questions. I had to.”
“You know better than that if you’re not a nincompoop. You did not have to. Telling them even about yourself and your movements was at your discretion; certainly you were under no compulsion to jabber about others. Did you?”
“I don’t jabber. What I told the police is on record. Ask them.”
“I have. You just heard me ask Mr. Cramer. You have more than once asked a female employee of your firm to find out about the relations between Mr. Ashby and Miss Vassos. What did she tell you?”
“Ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Ask her.”
“I hope I won’t have to.” Wolfe’s eyes went right. “Miss Cox. What terms were you on with Mr. Vassos?”
“I wasn’t on any terms with him.” Her head was up and her chin was pushing. It was a nice chin when she left it to itself. “He was the bootblack.”
“He was also the father of one of your fellow employees. Of course you knew that.”
“Certainly.”
“Did you like him? Did he like you?”
“I never asked him. I didn’t like him or dislike him. He was the bootblack, that’s all.”