Rex Stout - Plot It Yourself

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.

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—”