Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 32 Page 13

  “I don’t agree either,” Philip Harvey blurted. “I don’t see how we could be expected—”

  Tabb was tapping on the glass. Harvey was going on anyhow, but several of them shushed him. “I think we’ve covered the various viewpoints pretty well,” Tabb said. “Mr. Wolfe? If you care to comment?”

  Wolfe’s head went from right to left and back again. Those with their backs to us twisted around on their chairs, “First,” he said, “I remark that with your books two of you have given me pleasure, three of you have informed me, and one of you has stimulated my mental processes. Two or—”

  “Name them,” the famous woman novelist demanded.

  Laughter. Tabb tapped on the glass.

  Wolfe resumed. “Two or three of you have irritated or bored me, but on balance I owe you much. That’s why I’m here. Having seen your names on the letterhead of your association, I wanted to prevent you from forsaking a responsibility. You are collectively responsible for the death by violence of three people.”

  Five or six of them spoke at once. Tabb didn’t tap on the glass. Wolfe showed them a palm. “If you please. I merely stated a fact. You appointed a committee for a specific purpose. Pursuant to that purpose, the committee hired me to investigate. It provided me with the record—various documents and other material, Studying it, I formed a conclusion that should have been reached long ago: that the three first claims of plagiarism had all been instigated by a single person. I procured more material, books written by the claimants, and formed a second conclusion: that none of the three claimants had been the instigator. That changed completely the character of the investigation. It widened its scope so greatly that I told the committee it was no longer my kind of job. It was a member of the committee who suggested a plan to beguile one of the claimants, Simon Jacobs, into turning informer. At the request of the committee, reluctantly, I agreed to carry out the plan, which by its nature had to be imparted to various people. Forty-seven persons knew of it within a few hours. As a direct result of the plan Simon Jacobs was killed before Mr. Goodwin got to him; and as a further direct result, because the man we were after feared that a similar plan would be tried on Jane Ogilvy or Kenneth Rennert, they too were killed.

  Wolfe’s head went left and right again. “I repeat that the conclusions I formed should have been reached long ago, if a competent investigation had been made. The evidence on which they were based had been at hand, all of it, for more than a year. Because of those conclusions, formed in my pursuit of the stated purpose of the committee, and because of a plan of procedure approved by your committee and suggested by one of its members, Mr. Oshin, three people were killed. You are now considering whether or not to scuttle. That might be prudent; certainly it would not be gallant; some might think it less than honorable. I submit it to your judgment. Mr. Harvey. Do you challenge any of my facts?”

  “Your facts are straight enough,” Harvey conceded, “but you left one out. You told us yourself that you failed to function properly. You admitted that but for your default Jacobs would still be alive. Are we responsible for your blunder?”

  “No.” Wolfe was blunt. “With the plan known to so many, I should have taken precautions to safeguard Mr. Jacobs from harm. But you have shifted your ground. My default does not relieve this body of its responsibility. If you wish to dismiss me for incompetence I offer no objection, but then, to honor your obligation, you’ll have to hire somebody else. Mr. Tabb. You invited my comments and I have made them.” He stood up. “If that’s all—”

  “Wait a minute.” Tabb’s eyes moved. “Do you want to ask Mr. Wolfe any questions?”

  “I have one,” a man said. “Mr. Wolfe, you heard Mr. Sachs’s suggestion, that we write you a letter saying that you are to investigate the plagiarism claims and nothing else. Would you accept such a letter?”

  “Certainly. If I get the swindler, which will satisfy you, I’ll also get the murderer, which will satisfy me.”

  “Then I make a motion. I move that we instruct the chairman of the committee to ask Mr. Sachs to draft the letter, and sign it and send it to Nero Wolfe, and tell him to go ahead with the investigation.”

  Two of them, a man and a woman, seconded it.

  “You understand,” Harvey said, “that I couldn’t obey those instructions. If the motion passes you’ll have to get a new chairman.”

  “Mortimer Oshin,” someone said.

  “That will come after we act on the motion,” Tabb said. “Or it won’t. Before we discuss it, have you any more questions for Mr. Wolfe?”

  “I’d like to ask him,” a woman said, “if he knows who the murderer is.”

  Wolfe, on his feet, grunted. “If I did I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Any further questions?” Tabb asked. Apparently not. “Then discussion of the motion.”

  “You don’t need us for that,” Wolfe said. “I appreciate the courtesy of your invitation to be present, and if my opening remark gave you the impression that I accepted it solely to prevent you from forsaking a responsibility I wish to correct it. I also wish to earn a fee. Come, Archie.”

  He wheeled and headed for the door, and I circled around him to open it, detouring to get his hat and cane from a chair.

  16

  We got home at 3:55, just in the nick of time for Wolfe to keep his afternoon date with the orchids. On my desk were three memos from Fritz, reporting phone calls—one from Lon Cohen, one from Dexter of Title House, and one from a personal friend. I rang Dexter. He wanted to know if there was any truth in the rumor that the NAAD council was holding a special meeting for the purpose of instructing the joint committee to terminate its engagement with Wolfe. Thinking it would be unwise to tell a publisher, even one with a conscience, what authors and dramatists had done or were doing, I said we had heard the rumor but knew nothing definite, which was true, since we hadn’t stayed for the vote on the motion. He said if the NAAD council didn’t know that they couldn’t give orders to a joint committee they would soon find out. I didn’t bother with Lon Cohen; he could ring again. The personal friend was a personal matter, and I attended to it.

  A little after five Saul Panzer called, from a booth in a Carmel drugstore. “We’ve been liberated,” he said. “Free as crows. No charges. The lawyer is at the fountain with Miss Bonner and Fred, having a milkshake. Now what?”

  “No program,” I told him. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of keeping on her?”

  “I doubt it. I don’t see how. I just got back from a little ride out that way. There’s a car there in the same spot we’ve been using, I suppose a deputy sheriffs. He’s probably covering the house. Also there’s a car near the spot Miss Bonner and Miss Corbett were using, with a man in it. It looks as if Stebbins has fed Putnam County a line. About the only way would be to come in from the back, walk in about a mile from another road to a hill with trees on it, and use binoculars. Five hundred yards from the house. Of course that would be no good after dark.”

  I said it wouldn’t be much better even before dark and told him to go home and get some sleep and stand by, and the same for Fred. Also to tell Dol Bonner she would hear from us when we had anything to say. Two minutes after I hung up the phone rang again.

  “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”

  “This is the chairman of the Joint Committee on Plagiarism. You may recognize my voice.”

  “I do. Was it a close vote?”

  “We don’t reveal details of our deliberations to outsiders, but it wasn’t close. The letter has been drafted and you’ll have it tomorrow. I don’t ask you what the next move is, since Wolfe doesn’t reveal details either, but I thought he’d like to know that we’re both gallant and honorable. Sometimes.”

  “He will, Mr. Oshin. Congratulations. Who’s the new committee member?”

  “Oh, Harvey’s still on the committee. He only resigned as chairman. I think he wants to keep his eye on us. Let me know if you need a bat boy.”

  I said I would.


  When Wolfe came down at six o’clock I reported the calls to him—Dexter and Saul and Oshin. As I finished, Fritz entered with a tray—a bottle of beer and a glass. Wolfe glared at him, and he stopped halfway to the desk.

  “Archie put you up to this,” Wolfe said coldly.

  “No, sir. I thought perhaps—”

  “Take it back. I am committed. Take it back!”

  Fritz went. Wolfe transferred the glare to me. “Is Alice Porter still alive?”

  “I don’t know. Saul saw her at eight this morning, ten hours ago.”

  “I want to see her. Bring her.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  I regarded him. “Some day,” I said, “you’re going to tell me to bring you the Queen of England, and I’ll do my best. But I remind you that two or three times, when you have told me to bring someone and I have done so, you didn’t like the method I used. Do you want to suggest one this time?”

  “Yes. Tell her that I am ready to make a settlement with her for her claim against Amy Wynn.”

  I raised a brow. “What if she wants to know what kind of a settlement?”

  “You don’t know. You only know that I am ready to make one, and tomorrow may be too late.”

  “What if she phones Amy Wynn and learns that you haven’t been told to make a settlement?”

  “That’s why you’re going after her instead of phoning. She probably won’t; but if she does you’ll say that I am not making the offer on behalf of Miss Wynn. I am making it on behalf of my client, the committee. I would prefer not to have that said unless it’s necessary.”

  “Okay.” I got up. “Would it help if I had some idea of what you are going to say to her?”

  “No. It only occurred to me as I was coming down in the elevator. It should have occurred to me long ago. I am beginning to suspect that my mind is going. It should have occurred to you. A screw to use on that woman has been staring us in the face for a full week, and neither of us had the wit to see it. Now that I’ve told you it’s there, of course you will.”

  But I didn’t. I had plenty of time to try to, going to the garage to get the car, and then a ninety-minute drive, but I simply couldn’t see it. You probably have, and if not you will now if you spend three minutes looking for it, and of course you’ll think I’m as dumb as they come, but you’ve had it all in one package while with me it had been dragging along for two weeks and a lot of things had been on my mind, including three murders. Anyhow, dumb or not, I didn’t hit on it until just as I was turning off of Route 301 onto the blacktop. Then, suddenly seeing it, I braked the car, steered it onto the grass shoulder, stopped, and sat looking it over. No wonder Wolfe had suspected his mind was going. It was perfectly obvious. I fed gas, eased back onto the road, and went on. We had her.

  But I had to get her first. If X had got there ahead of me and stuck a knife in her, I would reverse my stand on boiled cucumbers; I would eat nothing but boiled cucumbers until we nailed him. I had intended to take it easy along the stretch of blacktop and see if I could spot the man in the car near the place Dol Bonner and Sally Corbett had used, but now I was in a hurry. Almost too much of a hurry; I wasn’t careful enough on the half-mile of narrow winding dirt road and scraped my bottom on a high center. That’s no way to treat a Heron sedan. Slowing down, I turned into the lane through the gap and bumped along the ruts to the little blue house. It was ten minutes past eight, and the sun was just sinking behind the rim of a ridge.

  I had seen her before I stopped the car. She was a couple of hundred yards off to the left, standing by a stone fence. The bicolored mutt was there beside her, wagging his tail, and on the other side of the fence was the upper half of a man. Her raised voice came across the meadow. I got out and headed for them, and as I approached I could hear her words: “… and you can tell the sheriff I don’t need any protection and don’t want any! You get out of here and stay out! I’m not in any danger, and if I am I can handle it! I told that state trooper this morning that I don’t want—”

  The man’s eyes left her to come to me, and she whirled around. “You here again?” she demanded.

  I stopped at the fence and addressed the man on the other side. “Trespassing and loitering,” I said sternly. “Also disturbing the peace. A peeping Tom can get up to three years. Beat it.”

  “You too,” Alice Porter said. “Both of you beat it.”

  “I’m an officer of the law,” the man said, raising a hand to exhibit a medal. “Deputy Sheriff Putnam County.”

  Everyone glared at everyone. “Tell Sergeant Stebbins,” I instructed the man, “that Archie Goodwin was here. It will please him.” I turned to her. “When I saw you ten days ago you said you wouldn’t talk, not a word, and evidently you haven’t changed your mind. But you also said you’d listen if I had come to make an offer. Okay, I have one.”

  “What kind of an offer?”

  “It’s just for you. I doubt if the deputy sheriff would be interested.”

  When she looked straight at you her eyes seemed even closer together, and her little nose almost wasn’t there. “All right,” she said, “I’ll listen.” She told the man, “You clear out of here and stay out.” She turned and headed for the house.

  It was a procession across the meadow. First her, then the dog, then me; and what made it a procession was the deputy sheriff, who climbed the wall and tagged along behind, ten paces back of me. She didn’t look back until she reached the door of the house; then she saw him. He had stopped at my car and opened the door on the other side, the driver’s side. “That’s all right,” I told her, “let him inspect it. He needs something to do.” When she opened the door the dog trotted in, and I followed.

  It was a bigger room than you would expect from the outside, and wasn’t bad at all. She said, “Sit down if you want to,” and went and deposited her 160 pounds on a long wicker bench. I pulled a chair around. “What kind of an offer?” she asked.

  I sat, “I haven’t actually got it, Miss Porter. Nero Wolfe has it. If you’ll come with me to his house in New York he’ll tell you about it. It’s an offer to settle your claim against Amy Wynn.”

  “An offer from her?”

  “I don’t know all the details, but I think so.”

  “Then you think wrong.”

  “I often do. That’s just the impression I got. It could be that Mr. Wolfe wants to make an offer on behalf of his client, the Joint Committee on Plagiarism of the National Association of Authors and Dramatists and the Book Publishers of America. But I think it’s from Amy Wynn.”

  “You’re not very good at thinking. You’d better stop trying. I’m not going to New York to see Nero Wolfe. If he really has an offer and you don’t know what it is, call him on the phone and ask him. There’s the phone. Reverse the charges.”

  She meant it. I had crossed my legs. Now I uncrossed them. Since the method Wolfe had suggested wouldn’t work, I would have to roll my own. “Look, Miss Porter. I drove all the way up here instead of phoning because I thought your line might be tapped. Why has that deptuy sheriff been hiding behind that stone fence all day? Why is another one in a car hiding behind some bushes near the road a mile from here? Why did a state cop come to see you this morning? Who started all the fuss? I can tell you. A man named Purley Stebbins of the New York police. He’s a sergeant on the Manhattan West Homicide Squad. He’s investigating three murders that have taken place in the past two weeks that you have probably heard about. That man out there said he’s here to protect you. Blah. He’s here to see that you don’t skip. We’ll be followed when we drive to New York, see if we’re not. I don’t—”

  “I’m not going to New York.”

  “You’re a damn fool if you don’t. I don’t know what Stebbins has on you for the murders, but he must have something, or thinks he has, or he wouldn’t have come up here and sicked Putnam County on you. I’m telling the truth when I say that Nero Wolfe didn’t tell me exactly why he wants to see you, and see you quick, but
I know this, he doesn’t suspect you of murder.”

  “You said he wants to make me an offer.”

  “Maybe he does. He said to tell you that. All I know is this, if I were in any way connected with a murder, let alone three murders, and if Nero Wolfe was investigating them, and if he wanted to see me and said it was urgent, and if I was innocent, I wouldn’t sit around arguing about it.”

  “I’m not connected with any murder.” She was hooked; I could see it her eyes.

  “Good. Tell Sergeant Stebbins that.” I left the chair. “He’ll be glad to know it. I apologize for butting in on your talk with your protector.” I turned and was going, and was halfway to the door when her voice came.

  “Wait a minute.”

  I stood. She was biting her lip. She wasn’t looking at me, but here and there. Finally she focused on me. “If I go with you, how will I get home? I could take my car, but I don’t like to drive at night.”

  “I’ll bring you home.”

  She arose. “I’ll put on a dress. Go out and tell that damn deputy sheriff to go soak his head.”

  I went out, but I didn’t deliver the message. The officer of the law wasn’t in sight at first glance, but then I saw him, across the meadow by the stone fence, and there were two of him. Apparently it was an around-the-clock cover, and his relief had come. To show there was no hard feeling I waved at them, but they didn’t wave back. I got the car turned around, looked in the trunk to see that my emergency kit was still there, and checked the contents of the dash compartment, and pretty soon Alice Porter emerged, locked the door, patted the dog, and came and got in. The dog escorted us through the gap to the dirt road and then let us go.

  I stayed under thirty on the blacktop to give anyone who might be interested time to see that she was in the car with me, and to get out to the road and fall in, and when I stopped at the junction with Route 301 I picked him up in the mirror, but I didn’t call Alice Porter’s attention to him until we were the other side of Carmel and I was sure it was a tail. It’s fun to drop a tail, but it would help to put her in a proper mood for conversation with Wolfe if he stuck all the way, so I made no difficulties. She twisted around in the seat about every four minutes for a look back, and by the time we rolled into the garage on Tenth Avenue her neck must have needed a rest. I don’t know if he got his car parked, and out of it, in time to stalk us a block to 35th Street and around the corner to the old brownstone.