by Rex Stout
“That will do.” Wolfe turned to her. “That, mademoiselle, was a courteous and reasonable appeal. I do not often appeal to anyone like that; I am too conceited. I did appeal to you, without success. If it is painful to you to be reminded that your best friend died yesterday, in agony, on the spot now occupied by your chair, do you think it was agreeable to me to sit here and watch him do it?” He shifted abruptly to Llewellyn. “And you, sir, who engaged me to solve a problem and then proceeded to hamper me as soon as I made the first step-now you are quick on the trigger to resent it if I do not show tenderness and consideration for your cousin's remorse and grief. I know none because I have none. If I offer anything for sale in this office that is worth buying, it certainly is not a warm heart and maudlin sympathy for the distress of spoiled obtuse children.” He turned to Helen. “Yesterday, in your pride, you asked for nothing and offered nothing. What information you gave was forced from you by a threat. What did you come for today? What do you want?”
Llewellyn had arisen and moved to her chair. He was holding himself in. “Come on, Helen,” he entreated her. “Come on, get out of here…”
She reached up and touched his sleeve, and shook her head without looking at him. “Sit down, Lew,” she told him. “Please. I deserve it.” There was a spot of color on the cheek I could see.
“No. Come on.”
She shook her head again. Tm going to stay.”
“I'm not.” He shot out his chin in Wolfe's direction. “Look here, I apologized to you. All right, I owed you that. But now I want to say.,. that thing I signed here Tuesday…I'm giving you notice I'm done with that. I'm not paying you ten thousand dollars, because I haven't got it and you haven't earned it. I can pay a reasonable amount whenever you send a bill. The deal's off.”
Wolfe nodded and murmured, “I expected that, of course. The suspicions you hired me to substantiate have evaporated. The threat of molestation of your cousin, caused by her admission that she had seen the box of candy, no longer exists.
Half of your purpose is accomplished, since your cousin will not work any more-at least, not at Mr. McNair's. As for the other half, to continue the investigation of the murder of Molly Lauck would mean of necessity an inquiry into Mr. McNair's death also, and that might easily result in something highly distasteful to a Frost. That's the logic of it, for you, perfectly correct; and if I expected to collect even a fair fraction of my fee I shall probably have to sue you for it.” He sighed, and leaned back. “And you stampeded me to 52nd
Street with that confounded letter. Good day, sir. I don't blame you; but I shall certainly send you a bill for ten thousand dollars. I know what you are thinking: that you won't be sued because I won't go to a courtroom to testify.
You are correct; but I shall certainly send you a bill.”
“Go ahead. Come on, Helen.”
She didn't budge. She said quietly, “Sit down, Lew.”
“What for? Come on! Did you hear what he said about distasteful to a Frost'?
Don't you see it's him that has started the police after us as if we were all a bunch of murderers? And that he started it on account of something that McNair said to him yesterday before-before it happened? Just as Dad said, and Aunt
Callie too? Do you wonder they wouldn't let you come down here unless I came along? I'm not saying McNair told him any lies, I'm just saying-”
“Lew! Stop it!” She wasn't loud, but determined. She put a hand on his sleeve again. “Listen, Lew. You know very well that all the misunderstandings we've ever had have been about Uncle Boyd. Don't you think we might stop having them, now that he's dead? I told Mr. Wolfe yesterday…he…he was the finest man I have ever known…I don't expect you to agree with that…but it's true. I know he didn't like you, and I honestly thought that was the only thing he was wrong about.” She stood up and put a hand on each of his arms. “You're a fine man, too, Lew. You have lots of fine things in you. But I loved Uncle Boyd.” She shut her lips tight and nodded her head up and down several times. Finally she swallowed, and went on, “He was a grand person…he was. He gave me what common sense I've got, and it was him that kept me from being just a complete silly fool…” She tightened her lips again, and then again went on, “He always used to say…whenever I…I…”
She turned away abruptly and sat down, lowered her face into her palms, and began to cry.
Llewellyn started at her: “Now, Helen, for God's sake, I know how you feel-”
I growled at him, “Sit down and shut up. Can it!”
He was going to keep on comforting her. I bounced up and grabbed his shoulder and whirled him. “You're not a client here any more. Don't argue. Didn't I tell you scenes make me nervous?” I left him glaring and went to the cabinet and got a shot of brandy and a glass of cold water, and went and stood alongside Helen
Frost's chair. Pretty soon she got quieter, and then fished a handkerchief out of her bag and began dabbing. I waited until she could see to tell her:
“Brandy. 1890 Guarnier. Shall I put water in it?”
She shook her head and reached for it and gulped it down nicely. I offered her the water and she took a swallow of that. Then she looked at Nero Wolfe and said, “You'll have to excuse me. I'm not asking for any tenderness, but you'll have to excuse me.” She looked at her cousin. “I'm not going to talk to you about Uncle Boyd any more. It doesn't do any good, does it? It's foolish.” She dabbed at her eyes again, took in a long trembling breath and let it out, and turned back to Wolfe.
She said, “I don't care what Uncle Boyd told you about us Frosts. It couldn't have been anything very terrible, because he wouldn't tell lies. I don't care if you're working with the police, either. There couldn't be anything more…more distasteful to a Frost than what has happened. Anyway, the police never found out anything at all about Molly Lauck, and you did.”
Her tears had dried. She went on, I'm sorry I didn't tell you…of course I'm sorry. I thought I was keeping a secret for Uncle Boyd, but I'm sorry anyway. I only wish there was anything else I could tell you…but anyway…I can do this.
This is the only time I've been truly glad I have lots of money. I'll pay you anything to find out who killed Uncle Boyd. Anything, and…and you won't have to sue me for it.”.
I got her glass and went to the cabinet to get her some more brandy. I grinned at the bottle as I poured, reflecting that this case was turning out to be just one damned client after another.
Chapter Eleven
Llewellyn was expostulating. “But, Helen, it's a police job. Not that he could be any more offensive than the police are, but it's a police job and let them do it. Anyway, Dad and Aunt Gallic will be sore as the devil, you know they will, you know how they went after me when I…Tuesday.”
Helen said, “I don't care if they're sore. It's not their money, it's mine. I'm doing this. Of course I won't be of age until next month-does that matter, Mr.
Wolfe? Is that all right?”
“Quite all right.”
“Will you do it?”
“Will I accept your commission? In spite of my experience with another Frost as a client, yes.”
She turned to her ortho-cousin. “You do as you please, Lew. Go on home and tell them if you want to. But I…I'd like to have you…”
He was frowning at her. “Are you set on this?”
“Yes. Good and set.”
“Okay.” He settled back in his chair. “I stick here. I'm for the Frosts, but you're the first one on the list. You're… Oh, nothing.” He flushed a little.
“Go to it.”
“Thank you, Lew.” She turned to Wolfe. “I suppose you want me to sign something?”
Wolfe shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He had leaned back and his eyes were half closed. “My charge will be adequate, but not exorbitant. I shan't attempt to make you pay for your cousin's volatility. But one thing must be clearly understood. You are engaging me for this job because of your affection and esteem for Mr. McNair and your desire tha
t his murderer should be discovered and punished. You are at present under the spell of powerful emotions. Are you sure that tomorrow or next week you will still want this thing done? Do you want the murderer caught and tried and convicted and executed if it should happen to be, for instance, your cousin, your uncle, your mother- or Mr. Perren Gebert?”
“But that…that's ridiculous…”
“Maybe, but it remains a question to be answered. Do you want to pay me for catching the murderer, no matter who it is?”
She gazed at him, and said finally, “Yes. Whoever killed Uncle Boyd- yes, I do.”
“You won't go back on that?”
“Good for you. I believe you. I'll try the job for you. Now I want to ask you some questions, but it is possible that your reply to the first one will make the others unnecessary. When did you last see Mr. McNair's red leather box?”
“His what?” She frowned. “Red leather box?”
“That's it.” pJever. I never did see it. I didn't know he had one.”
“Indeed. – You, sir, are you answering questions?”
Lew Frost said, “I guess I am. Sure. But not about a red leather box. I've never seen it.”
Wolfe sighed. “Then I'm afraid well have to go on. I may as well tell you, Miss
Frost, that Mr. McNair foresaw-at least, feared-what was waiting for him. While you were here yesterday he was at his lawyer's executing his will. He left his property to his sister Isabel, who lives in Scotland. He named me executor of his estate, and bequeathed me his red leather box and its contents. He called here to ask me to accept the trust and the legacy.”
“He named you executor?” Llewellyn was gazing at him incredulously. “Why, he didn't know you. Day before yesterday he didn't even want to talk to you…”
“Just so. That shows the extent of his desperation. But it is evident that the red box holds the secret of his death. As a matter of fact, Miss Frost, I was glad to see you here today. I hoped for something from you-a description of the box, if nothing more.”
She shook her head. “I never saw it. I didn't know…but I don t understand…if he wanted you to have it, why didn't he tell you yesterday…”
“He intended to. He didn't get that far. His last words-his last rutile struggle against his fate-were an effort to tell me where the red box is. I should inform you: Inspector Cramer has a copy of the will, and at this moment scores of police are searching for the box, so if you or your cousin can give me any hint there is no time to lose. It is desirable for me to get the box first. Not to protect the murderer, but I have my own way of doing things-and the police have no client but the electric chair.”
Llewellyn said, “But you say he left it to you, it's your property…”
“Murder evidence is no one's property, once the law touches it. No, if Mr.
Cramer finds it, the best we can hope for is the role of privileged spectator.
So turn your minds back, both of you. Look back at the days, weeks, months, years. Resurrect, if you can, some remark of Mr. McNair's, some forgotten gesture, perhaps of irritation or embarrassment at being interrupted, perhaps the hurried closing of a drawer, or the unintentional disclosure of a hiding-place. A remark by someone else who may have had knowledge of it. Some action of Mr. McNair's, unique or habitual, at the time unexplained…”
Llewellyn was slowly shaking his head. Helen said, “Nothing. I'll try to think, but I'm sure there's nothing I can remember like that.”
“That's too bad. Keep trying. Of course the police are ransacking his apartment and his place of business. Had he preempted any other spot of earth or water? A garage, a boat, a place in the country?”
Llewellyn was looking at his cousin with inquiring brows. She nodded. “Yes.
Glennanne. A little cottage with a few acres of land up near Brewster.”
“Glennanne?”
“Yes. His wife's name was Anne and his daughter's was Glenna.”
“Did he own it?”
“Yes. He bought it about six years ago.”
“What and where is Brewster?”
“It's a little village about fifty miles north of New York.”
“Indeed.” Wolfe sat up. “Archie. Get Saul, Orrie, Johnny and Fred here immediately. If they cannot all be prompt, send the first two to search
Glennanne, and let the others join them when they come. The cottage, first, swiftly, and thoroughly, then the grounds. Is there a garden, Miss Frost?
Tools?”
She nodded. “He…he grew some flowers.”
“Good. They can take the sedan. Get extra things for digging if they need them, and they should have lights to continue after dark. The cottage is most likely-a hole in the wall, a loose floor-board. Get them. Wait. First your notebook; take this and type it on a letterhead:
I hereby authorize the bearer, Saul Panzer, to take complete charge of the house and ground of Glennanne, property of Boyden McNair, deceased, and to undertake certain activities there in accordance with my instructions.
“Leave room for my signature above the designation, ‘Executor of the estate of
Boyden McNair.’ I have not yet qualified, but we can tie the red tape later.” He nodded me off. “Now, Miss Frost, perhaps you can tell me-”
I moved to the phone and started dialing. I got Saul and Orrie right off the bat, and they said they would come pronto. Fred Durkin was out, but his wife said she knew where to get hold of him and would have him call in ten minutes.
Johnny Keems, when he wasn't on a job for us, had formed the habit of phoning every day at nine to give me his program, and had told me that morning that he was still on a watchdog assignment for Del Pritchard, so I tried that office.
They had Johnny booked for the day, but before I finished typing the authorization for Saul, Fred called, so I had three anyhow.
Saul Panzer arrived first and Wolfe had Fritz show him into the office. He came in with his hat in his hand, shot me a wink, asked Wolfe how he did, got himself an everlasting blueprint of the two Frosts in one quick glance, and pointed his big nose inquiringly at Wolfe.
Wolfe gave him the dope and told him what he was supposed to find. Helen Frost told him how to get to Glennanne from the village of Brewster. I handed him the signed authorization and forty bucks for expenses, and he pulled out his old brown wallet and deposited them in it with care. Wolfe told him to get the car from the garage and wait in front to pick up Fred and Orrie as they arrived.
Saul nodded. “Yes, sir. If I find the box, do I leave Fred or Orrie at the place when I come away?”
“Yes. Until notified. Fred.”
“If any strangers offer to help me look, do I let them?” Wolfe frowned. “I was about to mention that. Surely there can be no objection if we show a preference for law and order. With all courtesy, you can ask to see a search warrant.”
“Is there something hot in the box?” Saul blushed. “I mean, stolen property?”
“No. It is legally mine. Defend it.”
“Right.” Saul went. I reflected that if he ever got his mitts on the box I wouldn't like to be the guy to try to take it away from him, small as he was. He didn't think any more of Nero Wolfe than I do of my patrician nose and big brown intelligent eyes.
Wolfe had pushed the button for Fritz, the long push, not the two shorts for beer. Fritz came, and stood.
Wolfe frowned at him. “Can you stretch lunch for us? Two guests?”
“No,” Llewellyn broke in, “really-well have to get back -I promised Dad and Aunt
Gallic-”
“You can phone them. I would advise Miss Frost to stay. At any moment we may hear that the box has been found, and that would mean a crisis. And to provide against the possibility that it will not be found, I shall need a great deal of information. Miss Frost?”
She nodded. “I'll stay. I'm not hungry. HI stay. You'll stay with me, Lew?”
He grumbled something at her, but stayed put. Wolfe told Fritz:
“The fricandeau shou
ld be ample. Add lettuce to the salad if the endive is short, and of course increase the oil. Chill a bottle of the ’28 Marcobrunner.
As soon as you are ready.” He wiggled Fritz away with a finger, and settled back in his chair. “Now, Miss Frost. We are engaged in a joint enterprise. I need facts. I am going to ask you a lot of foolish questions. If one of them turns out to be wise or clever you will not know it, but let us hope that I will.
Please do not waste time in expostulation. If I ask you whether your mother has recently sent you to the corner druggist for potassium cyanide tablets, just say no, and listen to the next one. I once solved a difficult case by learning from a young woman, after questioning her for five hours, that she had been handed a newspaper with a piece cut out. Your inalienable rights of privacy are temporarily suspended. Is that understood?”
“Yes.” She looked straight at him. “I don't care. Of course I know you're clever, I want you to be. I know how easily you caught me in a lie Tuesday morning. But you ought to know…you can't catch me in one now, because I haven't anything to lie about. I don't see how anything I know can help you…”
“Possibly it can't. We can only try. Let us first straighten out the present a little, and work back. I should inform you: Mr. McNair did tell me a few things yesterday before he was interrupted. I have a little background to start with.
Now-for instance-what did Mr. Gebert mean yesterday when he said you were almost his fiancee?”
She compressed her lips, but then spoke right to it: “He didn't mean anything, really. He has-several times he has asked me to marry him.”
“Have you encouraged him?”
“No.”
“Has anyone?”
“Why…who could?”
“Lots of people. Your maid, the pastor of his church, a member of your family-has anyone?”
She said, after a pause, “No.”