Fred said, "You said it, Saul. You said we had to jump him. Jesus Christ."
Saul said, "On in, Orrie. Ifs our deal."
I had never had the idea that Orrie Gather was dumb. He was no Saul Panzer, but he wasn't dumb. But he was dumb then. "What for?"
he said. "All right, you've got it."
His voice was almost normal, just squeezed a little. "I'm not going to blow. I'm going home."
"Oh, no you're not," Fred said. "My god, don't you know it's coming and you've got to take it?"
Saul had picked up the gun, an old S & W .38 Orrie had had for years, and stuck it in his pocket. "On in, Orrie. Move. We're going to talk."
I took hold of his left arm. He jerked loose and took a step and kept going, to the arch and on into the big room. Saul got ahead of him and led the way across to the couch. The four of us had played pinochle in that room. We had tagged Paul Rago for murder in that room. Orrie took the chair in the middle, with Saul on his left and Fred on his right, and me on the couch. As Saul sat, he said, "Tell him, Archie."
"Fred has already told you," I told Orrie. "You've got to take it. We're not going to turn you in. I don't have to explain why that wouldn't-" "You don't have to explain anything."
"Then I won't. I'll just tell you what we're going to do. We're going to make it impossible for you to live. I'm going to see Jill tomorrow, or Saul is. You're [152] through with her. You're through with any kind of work, not only in New York. Anywhere in the world. You're through with any kind of contact with people that means anything. You know us and you know Nero Wolfe. We know what it will cost us, Nero Wolfe in money and us in time and effort, but that's what we have to pay for not realizing long ago that someday, somehow, we would be sorry we didn't cross you off. Exactly how-" "You didn't have any reason to cross me off."
"Certainly we did. For instance, Isabel Kerr. Eight years ago. You got yourself in the can on a murder rap, and it was a job to get you out. And-" "That was Just a bad break. You know damn well it was."
"Skip it. It isn't just a bad break that you have killed three people. It isn't just-" "You can't prove it. You can't prove a damned thing."
Fred said, "Jesus Christ."
I said, "We don't have to prove it. We don't want to prove it. I told you, we're not going to turn you in, we're going to make it impossible for you to live. You've bought it, and we're going to deliver it. Actually, we could prove it, but you know what it would mean, especially for Nero Wolfe. We could probably prove the first one, Bassett. As you know, they have got the bullet that killed him, a thirty-eight, and the gun that fired it is probably now in Saul's pocket. And Pierre-" "That was self-defense, Archie. Bassett was going to ruin me."
"Pierre wasn't going to ruin you."
"Yes, he was. When he learned about Bassett he remembered about me and the slip of paper. I had been damn fool enough to give him a hundred dollars for the slip of paper. He demanded a thousand dollars. A grand. He came that Sunday, two days after Bassett, and asked for a grand. He said that was all [153] he wanted, he wouldn't come back, but you know how that is. You said once that all blackmailers ought to be shot."
"You didn't shoot him. Sunday? The next day or evening you went to that room at Rusterman's and put that thing in his coat pocket. Then his daughter was going to ruin you, and you shot her, and they've got that bullet too. You had another bomb, probably got two for the price of one, but you couldn't use it on her because she knew what had killed her father. And you brought it with you here tonight. I thought Saul did a good job with his voice on the phone, but I suppose after killing three people your nerves are on edge. And we are going to ruin you."
Saul got up and left the room. Sometimes a trip to the bathroom can't be postponed. But it wasn't the bathroom; his footsteps on the tiled hall floor went on to the kitchen. Fred rose and stretched his legs and sat down again. Orrie glanced up at him and then sent his eves back to me. No one spoke. Footsteps again, and Saul was back. Instead of returning to his chair, he joined me and on the couch between us he put what he had gone for: a roll of adhesive tape, a pair of pliers, and a couple of paper towels. He got the Don Pedro cigar tube from his pocket, checked the cap again, gripped it in the middle with the pliers, wiped it good with a paper towel, laid it on the edge of the other paper towel, and rolled the towel around it, tucking in the ends. Then about a yard of adhesive tape, all the way with both ends covered. A very neat wrapping job, with an appreciative audience.
"Well keep the gun," he said. "As you said, Archie, we're not going to turn him in, but well keep it just in case. But he can have this. Right?"
"Sure," I said. "Now that you've gift-wrapped it. Fred?"
"I guess so."
Fred nodded. "Okay."
[154] Saul got up and offered it, but Orrie didn't take it. His hands were on his knees, the curled fingers moving in and out a little as if they couldn't decide whether to make fists. He hadn't taken his topcoat off. Saul stepped to him, pulled open his topcoat and jacket, put the tube back where he had found it, in the inside breast pocket, and went to his chair. Orrie's hand went into the pocket and came out again, empty.
"Dora Bassett came to see us this morning," I told Orrie. "I took her up to my room, and we had a talk. I'll see Jill tomorrow, if she's not on a flight."
"I'll go along," Fred said. "I like Jill."
"I'll start with Del Bascom," Saul said. "Then Pete Vawter."
Orrie stood up and said, "I'm going to see Nero Wolfe."
We all stared at him. Fred said, "Jesus Christ."
Saul said, "How are you going to get in?"
I said, "He won't. Of course not. He's cracked."
Orrie turned and walked out. Saul got up and followed, and I tagged along, and Fred was right behind me. My mind was on a point of etiquette-should you open the door for a departing guest in whose pocket you have just put a bomb that you hope he'll use? Saul didn't; he stayed behind. Orrie not only opened the door, he pulled it shut after him, with us standing there. The spring lock clicked in place, but Saul slid the bolt, which was sensible. Orrie was good with locks, and he just might have ideas. Apparently no one felt like talking; we stood there.
"No bets," I said. "No bets either way."
"Me neither," Saul said. "Not a dime. If it takes a year, it will be a bad year for all of us. And you have a family, Fred."
"Right here and now," Fred said, "I've got me, and [155] I'm empty. I could swallow some of that salami I turned down, if you can spare it."
"That's a bet," Saul said and headed for the kitchen.
[156] 17 At a quarter past eleven Thursday morning I pushed the button at the door of the old brownstone for Fritz to come and slide the bolt. Behind my elbows were Saul and Fred. Fred had gone home to his own bed and come back at nine o'clock, but I had slept on the couch in Saul's living room. I hadn't overslept, and neither had Saul; we had turned on the radio at six and seven and eight and nine and ten, so we were well informed on current events. A little after ten I had called the Gazette and left word for Lon Cohen that .1 could be reached at Saul's place until eleven and then at the office. I hadn't called Wolfe. I had told him we were going to decide what to do, and let him think we were spending the night at it. For breakfast Saul and I had had two thick slices of broiled ham, six poached eggs, and about a dozen thin slices of buttered toast sprinkled with chives. Saul grows chives in a sixteen-inch box in his kitchen window.
It wouldn't be accurate reporting to say that Wolfe's mouth dropped open when he saw us walk in, but it might have, though it never had, if he hadn't heard our voices in the hall. What he did do, he put on an act. He finished a paragraph in a book he was reading, took his time inserting the thin strip of gold he [157] used for a bookmark, put the book down, and said, "Good morning."
Saul went to the red leather chair, Fred pulled up a yellow one, and I went to my desk, sat, and said, "I have asked Saul to report. He was the host."
Saul said, "Fred came about an hour after Archie phoned
you. I called Orrie and asked him to come at nine o'clock. We decided to try to make him kill himself. When he came we jumped him without warning. He had his gun as usual, and in a pocket of his jacket he had a Don Pedro cigar tube. We went in and sat down and talked for about half an hour. Mostly Archie talked. He told him we were going to make it impossible for him to live. Orrie said Bassett was going to ruin him and Pierre hit him for a thousand dollars. I sealed the cigar tube with adhesive tape and put it back in his pocket, but we kept his gun. He left a little before ten o'clock."
Wolfe said, "Satisfactory," but he said it only with his eyes. His mouth stayed shut tight. He leaned back and closed his eyes and breathed deep. Saul looked at me and was going to say something, but he didn't get it out because he was interrupted by a noise. Two noises. First the ring of the doorbell, and a moment later a shattering crack and clatter, somewhere close. We jumped and ran to the hall, Fred in front because he was closest. But in the hall he stopped and I passed him. As I neared the front door I slowed because the floor was covered with pieces of glass. There was nothing left of the glass panel in the door, three feet by four feet, but some jagged edges. I slid the bolt and opened the door enough to get through and stepped out.
Down on the sidewalk at the foot of the steps was Orrie Cather's topcoat. From up above that's just what it was, his topcoat. I went down the seven steps, and then I could see his face. There was nothing much [158] wrong with his face. He had liked his face too much to hold it the way Pierre had held it. Nine days and ten hours had passed, two hundred and twenty-six hours, since I had stood and looked down at what had been Pierre's face.
I lifted my head, and Saul and Fred were there, one on each side. "Okay," I said, "stand by. I'm going in and ring Lon Cohen. I owe him something."
[159] 18 At half past nine that evening Wolfe and I were leaving the dining room, an hour later than usual, for after-dinner coffee in the office, when the doorbell rang. Wolfe shot a glance at the front door. He didn't stop, but he had seen who it was, because I had stood my ground with Ralph Kerner of Town House Services and insisted that the temporary emergency job on the front door had to include some one-way glass. The bolt was a new one and wasn't well fitted. I slid it and opened up, and Inspector Cramer entered.
He gave me a funny look, as if he wanted to ask me a question but couldn't decide how to put it. Then he looked around, at the marks on the wall and bench and rack, and the floor mat. I said, "The glass. You should have seen it."
He said, "Yeah, I bet," and headed down the hall. I followed.
He always goes straight to the red leather chair, but not that time. Three steps in he stopped and sent his eyes around, left to right and then right to left. Then he went to the big globe and turned it, in no hurry, clear around, first to the right and then to the left, while I stood and stared. Then he took off his coat and dropped it on a yellow chair, crossed to the red leather chair, sat, and said, "I've been wanting to [160] do that for years. I don't think I've ever mentioned that it's the biggest and finest globe I ever saw. Also I've never mentioned that this is the best working room I know. The best-looking. I mention it now because I may never see it again."
"Indeed."
Wolfe's brows were up. "Are you retiring? You're not old enough."
"No, I'm not retiring. Maybe I should. I'm not old enough, but I'm tired enough. But I'm not. But you are. You could call it retiring."
"Apparently you have been misinformed. Or are you guessing?"
"No, I'm not guessing."
Cramer got a cigar from a pocket, not a Don Pedro, stuck it in his mouth and clamped his teeth on it, and took it out again. He hadn't lit one for years. "It's no go, Wolfe. This time you are done. Not only the DA, the Commissioner. I think he has even spoken to the Mayor. Is this being recorded?"
"Of course not. My word of honor if you need it."
"I don't."
Cramer put the cigar between his teeth, took it out, threw it at my wastebasket, and missed by two feet. "You know," he said, "I don't really know how dumb you think I am. I never have known."
"Pfui. That's flummery. My knowledge of you is not mere surmise. I know you. Certainly your mental processes have limits, so have mine, but you are not dumb-your word-at all. If you were dumb, you would have in fact concluded that I am done-again, your word-and you wouldn't have come. You would have abandoned me to the vengeance of the District Attorney-perhaps with a touch of regret that you wouldn't have another chance to come and whirl that globe around."
"Goddam it, I didn't whirl it!"
"Spin, rotate, twirl, circumvolute-your choice. So why did you come? "You tell me."
[161] "I will. Because you suspected that I might not be done, there might be a hole I could wriggle out through, and you wanted to know where and how."
"That would be a wriggle. You wriggle?"
"Confound it, quit scorning my diction. I choose words to serve my purpose. Archie, tell Fritz he may bring the coffee. Three cups. Or would you prefer beer or brandy?"
Cramer said no, he would like coffee, and I went. Tired as I was after a long, hard day, including such items as telling Jill what had happened to Orrie, I didn't drag my feet. I too wanted to know where and how. When I went back in, Wolfe was talking.
". . . but I'm not going to tell you what I intend to do. Actually I don't intend to do anything. I'm going to loaf, drift, for the first time in ten days. Read books, drink beer, discuss food with Fritz, logomachize with Archie. Perhaps chat with you if you have occasion to drop in. I'm loose, Mr. Cramer. I'm at peace."
"Like hell you are. Your licenses have been suspended."
"Not for long, I think. When the coffee comes-" It came. Fritz was there with the tray. He put it on Wolfe's desk and left. Wolfe poured, and he remembered that Cramer took sugar and cream, though it had been at least three years since he had had coffee with us. I got up and served Cramer and got mine, sat and stirred and took a sip, and crossed my legs, hoping that by bedtime I would be at peace too.
Wolfe took a swallow-he can take coffee hotter than I can-and leaned back. "I told you nine days ago," he said, "Tuesday of last week, that I was going to tell you absolutely nothing. I repeat that. I am going to tell you nothing. But if you care to listen, I'll make a supposition. I'll imagine a situation and describe it. Do you want me to?"
"You can start. I can always interrupt."
Cramer [162] took too big a sip of hot coffee. I was afraid he would have to spit it out, but his mouth and jaw worked on it and he got it down.
"A long and elaborate supposition," Wolfe said. "Suppose that five days ago, last Saturday, an accumulation of facts and observations forced me to surmise that a man who had been associated with me for years had committed three murders. The first item of that accumulation had come the morning Pierre Ducos died in my house when Archie-I drop the formality-Archie told me what Pierre had said when he arrived. He refused to give Archie any details; he would tell only me. Perhaps it was my self-esteem that made me give that item too little thought; Pierre said I was the greatest detective in the world. All is vanity."
He drank coffee. "The second item of the accumulation came Wednesday evening, a week ago yesterday, when Orrie Gather offered to donate his services, to take no pay. He made the offer first, before either Saul Panzer or Fred Durkin. That was out of character. For him it was remarkable. Shall I iterate and reiterate that this is merely a series of suppositions?"
"Hell no. You're just imagining it. Sure. Go ahead."
"The third item was an old fact. The best opportunity-the only one I knew of-for someone to put the bomb in Pierre's pocket had been when he was at work and his coat was in his locker at the restaurant. Orrie Gather was familiar with that room; he had once helped with an investigation there, and the lock would have been no problem for him. The fourth item was that Mrs. Harvey Bassett questioned a friend of hers about Archie Goodwin-had she seen him, and had he learned who had killed Pierre Ducos. The fifth item was that Mr. Bassett had
an obsession about his wife-information supplied by two of the men who were at that dinner. It was at that point that I first thought it possible that Orrie Gather was some- [163] how involved, for the sixth item was my knowledge of Orrie's contacts with women and his habitual conduct with them."
He emptied his cup and poured, and I took Cramer's cup and mine and got refills.
"As I said," Wolfe resumed, "it's a long and elaborate supposition. The seventh item was another mention of Mrs. Bassett by one of those men. The eighth item was another action out of character by Orrie Gather. With him present, I told Saul Panzer to see Lucile Ducos and try to learn if she knew anything and if so what, and Orrie suggested that he should see her instead of Saul. It was unheard of for him to suggest that he would be better than Saul for anything whatever. And the next day, last Saturday, came the ninth and last item. Lucile Ducos was shot and killed as she left her home that morning. That was conclusive. It pointed up all the other items, brought them into focus. It was no longer a conjecture that Orrie was implicated; it was a conclusion."
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