The Red Box

by Rex Stout

  I murmured, “Was I crazy when I suggested that letter from the orchid guys? Get the beer.”

  He went. I negotiated myself into a chair with the blonde pippin on one side and the sylph on the other. Wolfe was sniffing the air. He suddenly demanded:

  “Are all of these booths perfumed like this?”

  “Yes, they are.” The blonde smiled at him. “It’s not us.”

  “No. It was here before you came in. Pfui. And you girls work here. They call you models?”

  “That’s what they call us. I’m Thelma Mitchell.” The blonde waved an expert graceful hand. “This is Helen Frost.”

  Wolfe nodded, and turned to the sylph. “Why do you work here, Miss Frost? You don’t have to. Do you?”

  Helen Frost put level eyes on him, with a little crease in her brow between them. She said quietly, “My cousin told us you wished to ask us about—about Molly Lauck.”

  “Indeed.” Wolfe leaned back, warily, to see if the chair would take it. There was no creak, and he settled. “Understand this, Miss Frost: I am a detective. Therefore, while I may be accused of incompetence or stupidity, I may not be charged with impertinence. However nonsensical or irrelevant my questions may seem to you, they may be filled with the deepest significance and the most sinister implications. That is the tradition of my profession. As a matter of fact, I was merely making an effort to get acquainted with you.”

  Her eyes stayed level. “I am doing this as a favor to my cousin Lew. He didn’t ask me to get acquainted.” She swallowed. “He asked me to answer questions about last Monday.”

  Wolfe leaned forward and snapped, “Only as a favor to your cousin? Wasn’t Molly Lauck your friend? Wasn’t she murdered? You aren’t interested in helping with that?”

  It didn’t jolt her much. She swallowed again, but stayed steady. “Interested—yes. Of course. But I’ve told the police—I don’t see what Lew—I don’t see why you—” She stopped herself and jerked her head up and demanded, “Haven’t I said I’ll answer your questions? It’s awful—it’s an awful thing—”

  “So it is.” Wolfe turned abruptly to the blonde. “Miss Mitchell. I understand that at twenty minutes past four last Monday afternoon, a week ago yesterday, you and Miss Frost took the elevator together, downstairs, and got out at this floor. Right?”

  She nodded.

  “And there was no one up here; that is, you saw no one. You walked down the corridor to the fifth door on the left, across the corridor from Mr. McNair’s office, and entered that room, which is an apartment used as a rest room for the four models who work here. Molly Lauck was in there. Right?”

  She nodded again. Wolfe said, “Tell me what happened.”

  The blonde took a breath. “Well, we started to talk about the show and the customers and so on. Nothing special. We did that about three minutes, and then suddenly Molly said she forgot, and she reached under a coat and pulled out a box—”

  “Permit me. What were Miss Lauck’s words?”

  “She just said she forgot, she had some loot—”

  “No. Please. What did she say? Her exact words.”

  The blonde stared at him. “Well, if I can. She said, let’s see: ‘Oh, I forgot, girls, I’ve got some loot. Swiped it as clean as a whistle.’ While she was saying that she was pulling the box from under the coat—”

  “Where was the coat?”

  “It was her coat, lying on the table.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Me? I was right there, standing there. She was sitting on the table.”

  “Where was Miss Frost?”

  “She was—she was across by the mirror, fixing her hair. Weren’t you, Helen?”

  The sylph merely nodded. Wolfe said:

  “And then? Exactly. Exact words.”

  “Well, she handed me the box and I took it and opened it, and I said—”

  “Had it been opened before?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t have any wrapping or ribbon or anything on it. I opened it and I said, ‘Gee, it’s two pounds and never been touched. Where’d you get it, Molly?’ She said, ‘I told you, I swiped it. Is it any good?’ She asked Helen to have some—”

  “Her words.”

  Miss Mitchell frowned. “I don’t know. Just ‘Have some, Helen,’ or ‘Join the party, Helen’—something like that. Anyway, Helen didn’t take any—”

  “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know. What did you say, Helen?”

  Miss Frost spoke without swallowing. “I don’t remember. I just had had cocktails, and I didn’t want any.”

  The blonde nodded. “Something like that. Then Molly took a piece and I took a piece—”

  “Please.” Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. “You were holding the box?”

  “Yes. Molly had handed it to me.”

  “Miss Frost didn’t have it in her hands at all?”

  “No, I told you, she said she didn’t want any. She didn’t even look at it.”

  “And you and Miss Lauck each took a piece—”

  “Yes. I took candied pineapple. It was a mixture; chocolates, bonbons, nuts, candied fruits, everything. I ate it. Molly put her piece in her mouth, all of it, and after she bit into it she said—she said it was strong—”

  “Words, please.”

  “Well, she said, let’s see: ‘My God, it’s 200 proof, but not so bad, I can take it.’ She made a face, but she chewed it and swallowed it. Then … well … you wouldn’t believe how quick it was—”

  “I’ll try to. Tell me.”

  “Not more than half a minute, I’m sure it wasn’t. I took another piece and was eating it, and Molly was looking into the box, saying something about taking the taste out of her mouth—”

  She stopped because the door popped open. Llewellyn Frost appeared, carrying a paper bag. I got up and took it from him, and extracted from it the opener and glass and bottles and arranged them in front of Wolfe. Wolfe picked up the opener and felt of a bottle.

  “Umph. Schreirer’s. It’s too cold.”

  I sat down again. “It’ll make a bead. Try it.” He poured. Helen Frost was saying to her cousin:

  “So that’s what you went for. Your detective wants to know exactly what I said, my exact words, and he asks Thelma if I handled the box of candy …”

  Frost patted her on the shoulder. “Now, Helen. Take it easy. He knows what he’s doing …”

  One bottle was empty, and the glass. Frost sat down. Wolfe wiped his lips.

  “You were saying, Miss Mitchell, Miss Lauck spoke of taking the taste out of her mouth.”

  The blonde nodded. “Yes. And then—well—all of a sudden she straightened up and made a noise. She didn’t scream, it was just a noise, a horrible noise. She got off the table and then leaned back against it and her face was all twisted … it was … twisted. She looked at me with her eyes staring, and her mouth went open and shut but she couldn’t say anything, and suddenly she shook all over and grabbed for me and got hold of my hair … and … and …”

  “Yes, Miss Mitchell.”

  The blonde gulped. “Well, when she went down she took me with her because she had hold of my hair. Then of course I was scared. I jerked away. Later, when the doctor … when people came, she had a bunch of my hair gripped in her fingers.”

  Wolfe eyed her. “You have good nerves, Miss Mitchell.”

  “I’m not a softy. I had a good cry after I got home that night, I cried it out. But I didn’t cry then. Helen stood against the wall and trembled and stared and couldn’t move, she’ll tell you that herself. I ran to the elevator and yelled for help, and then I ran back and put the lid on the box of candy and held onto it until Mr. McNair came and then I gave it to him. Molly was dead. I could see that. She was crumpled up. She fell down dead.” She gulped again. “Maybe you could tell me. The doctor said it was some kind of acid, and it said in the paper potassium cyanide.”

  Lew Frost put in, “Hydrocyanic. The police say—it’s the same thing. I tol
d you that. Didn’t I?”

  Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. “Please, Mr. Frost. It is I who am to earn the fee, you to pay it. —Then Miss Mitchell, you felt no discomfort from your two pieces, and Miss Lauck ate only one.”

  “That’s all.” The blonde shivered. “It’s terrible, to think there’s something that can kill you that quick. She couldn’t even speak. You could see it go right through her, when she shook all over. I held onto the box, but I got rid of it as soon as I saw Mr. McNair.”

  “Then, I understand, you ran away.”

  She nodded. “I ran to the washroom.” She made a face. “I had to throw up. I had eaten two pieces.”

  “Indeed. Most efficient.” Wolfe had opened another bottle, and was pouring. “To go back a little. You had not seen that box of candy before Miss Lauck took it from under the coat?”

  “No. I hadn’t.”

  “What do you suppose she meant when she said she had swiped it?”

  “Why—she meant—she saw it somewhere and took it.”

  Wolfe turned. “Miss Frost. What do you suppose Miss Lauck meant by that?”

  “I suppose she meant what she said, that she swiped it. Stole it.”

  “Was that customary with her? Was she a thief?”

  “Of course not. She only took a box of candy. She did it for a joke, I suppose. She liked to play jokes—to do things like that.”

  “Had you seen the box before she produced it in that room?”

  “No.”

  Wolfe emptied his glass in five gulps, which was par, and wiped his lips. His half-shut eyes were on the blonde. “I believe you went to lunch that day with Miss Lauck. Tell us about that.”

  “Well—Molly and I went together about one o’clock. We were hungry because we had been working hard—the show had been going on since eleven o’clock—but we only went to the drug store around the corner because we had to be back in twenty minutes to give Helen and the extras a chance. The show was supposed to be from eleven to two, but we knew they’d keep dropping in. We ate sandwiches and custard and came straight back.”

  “Did you see Miss Lauck swipe the box of candy at the drug store?”

  “Of course I didn’t. She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Did you get it at the drug store yourself and bring it back with you?”

  Miss Mitchell stared at him. She said, disgusted, “For the Lord’s sake. No.”

  “You’re sure Miss Lauck didn’t get it somewhere while out for lunch?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I was right with her.”

  “And she didn’t go out again during the afternoon?”

  “No. We were working together until half past three, when there was a let-up and she left to go upstairs, and a little later Helen and I came up and found her here. There in the restroom.”

  “And she ate a piece of candy and died, and you ate two and didn’t.” Wolfe sighed. “There is of course the possibility that she had brought the box with her when she came to work that morning.”

  The blonde shook her head. “I’ve thought of that. We’ve all talked about it. She didn’t have any package. Anyway, where could it have been all morning? It wasn’t in the restroom, and there wasn’t anyplace else …”

  Wolfe nodded. “That’s the devil of it. It’s recorded history. You aren’t really telling me your fresh and direct memory of what happened last Monday, you’re merely repeating the talk it has been resolved into.—I beg you, no offense, you can’t help it. I should have been here last Monday afternoon—or rather, I shouldn’t have been here at all. I shouldn’t be here now.” He glared at Llewellyn Frost, then remembered the beer, filled his glass, and drank.

  He looked from one girl to the other. “You know, of course, what the problem is. Last Monday there were more than a hundred people here, mostly women but a few men, for that show. It was a cold March day and they all wore coats. Who brought that box of candy? The police have questioned everyone connected with this establishment. They have found no one who ever saw the box or will admit to any knowledge of it. No one who saw Miss Lauck with it or has any idea where she got it. An impossible situation!”

  He wiggled a finger at Frost. “I told you, sir, this case is not within my province. I can use a dart or a rapier, but I cannot set traps throughout the territory of the metropolitan district. Who brought the poison here? Whom was it intended for? God knows, but I am not prepared to make a call on Him, no matter how many orchid-growers are coerced into signing idiotic letters. I doubt if it is worthwhile for me to try even for the second half of your fee, since your cousin—your ortho-cousin—refuses to become acquainted with me. As for the first half, the solution of Miss Lauck’s death, I could undertake that only through interviews with all of the persons who were in this place last Monday; and I doubt if you could persuade even the innocent ones to call at my office.”

  Lew Frost muttered, “It’s your job. You took it. If you’re not up to it—”

  “Nonsense. Does a bridge engineer dig ditches?” Wolfe opened the third bottle. “I believe I have not thanked you for this beer. I do thank you. I assure you, sir, this problem is well within my abilities in so far as it is possible to apply them. In so far—for instance, take Miss Mitchell here. Is she telling the truth? Did she murder Molly Lauck? Let us find out.” He turned and got sharp. “Miss Mitchell. Do you eat much candy?”

  She said, “You’re being smart.”

  “I’m begging your indulgence. It won’t hurt you, with nerves like yours. Do you eat much candy?”

  She drew her shoulders together, and released them. “Once in a while. I have to be careful. I’m a model, and I watch myself.”

  “What is your favorite kind?”

  “Candied fruits. I like nuts too.”

  “You removed the lid from that box last Monday. What color was it?”

  “Brown. A kind of gold-brown.”

  “What kind was it? What did it say on the lid?”

  “It said … it said Medley. Some kind of a medley.”

  Wolfe snapped, “ ‘Some kind?’ Do you mean to say you don’t remember what name was on the lid?”

  She frowned at him. “No … I don’t. That’s funny. I would have thought—”

  “So would I. You looked at it and took the lid off, and later replaced the lid and held onto the box, knowing there was deadly poison in it, and you weren’t even curious enough—”

  “Now wait a minute. You’re not so smart. Molly was dead on the floor, and everybody was crowding into the room, and I was looking for Mr. McNair to give him the box, I didn’t want the damn thing, and certainly I wasn’t trying to think of things to be curious about.” She frowned again. “At that, it is funny I didn’t really see the name.”

  Wolfe nodded. He turned abruptly to Lew Frost. “You see, sir, how it is done. What is to be deduced from Miss Mitchell’s performance? Is she cleverly pretending that she does not know what was on that lid, or is it credible that she really failed to notice it? I am merely demonstrating. For another example, take your cousin.” He switched his eyes and shot at her, “You, Miss Frost. Do you eat candy?”

  She looked at her cousin. “Is this necessary, Lew?”

  Frost flushed. He opened his mouth, but Wolfe was in ahead:

  “Miss Mitchell didn’t beg off. Of course, she has good nerves.”

  The sylph leveled her eyes at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my nerves. But this cheap—oh, well. I eat candy. I much prefer caramels, and since I work as a model and have to be careful too, I confine myself to them.”

  “Chocolate caramels? Nut caramels?”

  “Any kind. Caramels. I like to chew them.”

  “How often do you eat them?”

  “Maybe once a week.”

  “Do you buy them yourself?”

  “No. I don’t get a chance to. My cousin knows my preference, and he sends me boxes of Carlatti’s. Too often. I have to give most of them away.”

  “You are very fond of them?”


  She nodded. “Very.”

  “You find it hard to resist them when offered?”

  “Sometimes, yes.”

  “Monday afternoon you had been working hard? You were tired? You had had a short and unsatisfactory lunch?”

  She was tolerating it. “Yes.”

  “Then, when Miss Lauck offered you caramels, why didn’t you take one?”

  “She didn’t offer me caramels. There weren’t any in that—” She stopped. She glanced aside, at her cousin, and then put her eyes at Wolfe again. “That is, I didn’t suppose—”

  “Suppose?” Wolfe’s voice suddenly softened. “Miss Mitchell couldn’t remember what was on the lid of that box. Can you, Miss Frost?”

  “No. I don’t know.”

  “Miss Mitchell has said that you didn’t handle the box. You were at the mirror, fixing your hair; you didn’t even look at it. Is that correct?”

  She was staring at him. “Yes.”

  “Miss Mitchell has also said that she replaced the lid on the box and kept it under her arm until she handed it to Mr. McNair. Is that correct?”

  “I don’t know. I … I didn’t notice.”

  “No. Naturally, under the circumstances. But after the box was given to Mr. McNair, from that time until he turned it over to the police, did you see it at all? Did you have an opportunity to inspect it?”

  “I didn’t see it. No.”

  “Just one more, Miss Frost—this finishes the demonstration: you are sure you don’t know what was on that lid? It was not a brand you were familiar with?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  Wolfe leaned back and sighed. He picked up the third bottle and filled his glass and watched the foam work. No one spoke; we just looked at him, while he drank. He put the glass down and wiped his lips, and opened his eyes on his client.

  “There you are, Mr. Frost,” he said quietly. “Even in a brief demonstration, where no results were expected, something is upturned. By her own testimony, your cousin never saw the contents of that box after Miss Lauck swiped it. She doesn’t know what brand it was, so she could not have been familiar with its contents. And yet, she knew, quite positively, that there were no caramels in it. Therefore: she saw the contents of the box, somewhere, sometime, before Miss Lauck swiped it. That, sir, is deduction. That is what I meant when I spoke of interviews with all of the persons who were at this place last Monday.”