Rex Stout - The Red Box

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 grounds 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 — we’ll have to get back — I promised Dad and Aunt Callie—”

“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. I’ll stay. You’ll stay with me, Lew?”

He grumbled something at her, but stayed put. Wolfe told Fritz:

“The fricandeau should 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 fiancée?”

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.”

“You said you had nothing to lie about.”

“But I—” She stopped, and tried to smile at him. It was then that I began to think she was a pretty good kid, when I saw her try to smile to show that she wasn’t meaning to cheat on him. She went on, “This is so very personal... I don’t see how...”

Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. “We are proceeding on this theory, that in any event whatever, we wish to discover the murderer of Mr. McNair. Even — merely for instance — if it should mean dragging your mother into a courtroom to testify against someone she likes. If that is our aim, you must leave the method of pursuit to me; and I beg you, don’t balk and shy at every little pebble. Who encouraged Mr. Gebert?”