Rex Stout - The Red Box

“Perhaps I am. But that isn’t even any of my business, is it? It’s his.”

“Certainly. Hence mine, since he is my client. Do you forget that he hired me?”

“I do not.” She sounded scornful. “But I can assure you that I am not going to discuss my cousin Lew with you. He means well. I know that.”

“But you don’t like the fuss.” Wolfe sighed. The foam had gone from his beer, and he tipped a little more in the glass, lifted it, and drank. I sat and tapped with my pencil on my notebook and looked at Miss Frost’s ankles and the hint of shapeliness ascending therefrom. I wasn’t exactly bored, but I was beginning to get anxious, wondering if the relapse germ was still working on Wolfe’s nerve centers. Not only was he not getting anywhere with this hard-working heiress, it didn’t sound to me as if he was half trying. Remembering the exhibitions I had seen him put on with others — for instance, Nyura Pronn in the Diplomacy Club business — I was beginning to harbor a suspicion that he was only killing time. At anything like his top form, he should have had this poor little rich girl herded into a corner long ago. But here he was...

I was diverted by the doorbell buzz and the sound of Fritz’s footsteps in the hall going to answer it. The idea popped into my head that Mr. Dudley Frost, not liking the way I had hung up on him, might be dropping around to get his nose straightened, and in a sort of negligent way I got solider in my chair, because I knew Wolfe was in no mood to be wafted away again by that verbal cyclone, and I damn well wasn’t going to pass out any more of the Old Corcoran.

But it wasn’t the cyclone, it was only the breeze, his son. Our client. Fritz came in and announced him, and at Wolfe’s nod went back and brought him in. He wasn’t alone. He ushered in ahead of him a plump little duck about his own age, with a round pink face and quick smart eyes. Lew Frost escorted this specimen forward, then dropped it and went to his cousin.

“Helen! You shouldn’t have done this—”

“Now, Lew, for heaven’s sake, why did you come here? Anyway, it’s your fault that I had to come.” She saw the plump one. “You too, Bennie?” She looked mad and grim. “Are you armed?”

Lew Frost turned to Wolfe, looking every inch a football player. “What the hell are you trying to pull? Do you think you can get away with this kind of stuff? How would you like it if I pulled you out of that chair—”

His plump friend grasped his arm, with authority. He was snappy: “None of that, Lew. Calm down. Introduce me.”

Our client controlled himself with an effort. “But, Ben... all right. That’s Nero Wolfe.” He glared at Wolfe. “This is Mr. Benjamin Leach, my attorney. Try some tricks on him.”

Wolfe inclined his head. “How do you do, Mr. Leach. I don’t know any tricks, Mr. Frost. Anyway, aren’t you getting things a little complicated? First you hire me to do a job for you, and now, judging from your attitude, you have hired Mr. Leach to circumvent me. If you keep on with that—”

“Not to circumvent you.” The lawyer sounded friendly and smooth. “You see, Mr. Wolfe, I’m an old friend of Lew’s. He’s a little hot-headed. He has told me something about this business... the, er, unusual circumstances, and I just thought it would be all right if he and I were present at any conversations you may have with Miss Frost. In fact, it would have been quite proper if you had arranged for us to be here from the beginning.” He smiled pleasantly. “Isn’t that so? Two of you and two of us?”

Wolfe had on a grimace. “You speak, sir, as if we were hostile armies drawn up for battle. Of course that’s natural, since bad blood is for lawyers what a bad tooth is for a dentist. I mean nothing invidious; detectives live on trouble too. But they don’t stir it up where there is none — at least, I don’t. I don’t ask you to sit down, because I don’t want you here. I fancy that on that point we shall have to consult — yes, Fritz?”

Fritz had knocked and entered, and now walked across to the desk with his company gait, bearing the pewter tray. He bent at the waist and extended it.

Wolfe picked up the card and looked at it. “Still not the right one. Tell him... no. Show him in.”

Fritz bowed and departed. The lawyer wheeled to face the door and Llewellyn turned his head, but Miss Frost just sat. The newcomer entered, and at sight of his thin nose and slick hair and dark darting eyes I squelched a grin and muttered to myself, “Still more fuss.”

I stood up. “Over here, Mr. Gebert.”

Lew Frost took a step and busted out at him, “You? What the hell do you want here?”

Wolfe spoke sharply, “Mr. Frost! This is my office!”

The lawyer took hold of our client — his too, of course — and held on. Perren Gebert paid no attention to either of them. He went past them before he stopped to incline his torso in Wolfe’s direction. “Mr. Wolfe? How do you do? Permit me.” He turned and bowed again, at Helen Frost, with a different technique. “So there you are! How are you? You’ve been crying! Forgive me, I have no tact, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. How are you? All right?”

“Certainly I’m all right! For heaven’s sake, Perren, why did you come?”

“I came to take you home.” Gebert turned and shot the dark eyes at Wolfe. “Permit me, sir. I came to escort Miss Frost home.”

“Indeed,” Wolfe murmured. “Officially? Forcibly? In spite of anything?”

“Well...” Gebert smiled. “Semi-officially. How shall I say it... Miss Frost is almost my fiancée.”

“Perren! That isn’t true! I’ve told you not to say that!”

“I said ‘almost,’ Helen.” He raised his palms to deprecate himself. “I put in the ‘almost,’ and I permit myself to say it only in hope—”

“Well, don’t say it again. Why did you come?”

Gebert got in another bow. “The truth is, your mother suggested it.”

“Oh. She did.” Miss Frost glanced around at all her protectors. She looked plenty exasperated. “I suppose she suggested it to you too, Lew. And you, Bennie?”

“Now, Helen.” The lawyer sounded persuasive. “Don’t start on me. I came here because when Lew told me about it, it seemed the best thing to do. — Be quiet, Lew! It seems to me that if we just discuss this thing quietly...”

The telephone rang, and I got back in my chair for it. Leach went on talking, spreading oil. As soon as I learned who it was on the phone I got discreet. I pronounced no names and kept my words down. It appeared to me likely that this time it was the right one. I asked him to hold the wire a minute, and choked the transmitter, and wrote on a piece of paper, McN wants to pay us a call , and handed it across to Wolfe.

Wolfe glanced at it and stuck it in his pocket and said softly, “Thank you, Archie. That’s more like it. Tell Mr. Brown to telephone again in fifteen minutes.”

I had trouble with that. McNair was urgent and wasn’t going to be put off. The others had stopped talking. I made it reassuring but firm, and finally managed it. I hung up and told Wolfe:

“Okay.”

He was making preparations to rise. He shoved his chair back, got his hands on its arms for levers, and up came the mountain. He stood and distributed a glance and put on his crispest tone:

“Gentlemen. It is nearly four o’clock and I must leave you. — No, permit me. Miss Frost has kindly accepted my invitation to come to my plant rooms and see my orchids. She is... she and I have concluded a little agreement. I may say that I am not an ogre and I resent your silly invasion of my premises. You gentlemen are leaving now, and certainly she is free to accompany you if she chooses to do that. — Miss Frost?”