Rex Stout - If Death Ever Slept

Brigham’s death was out of it as far as the trial was concerned, since she was being tried for Eber, but the theory was that he had suspected her of killing Eber and had told her so, and take your pick. Either he had disapproved of murder so strongly that he was going to pass it on, or he wanted something for not passing it on — possibly the two hundred grand back, possibly something more personal.

None of the rest of them was called to testify by either side. The defense put neither Susan nor Wyman on, and that probably hurt. Susan’s having a key to the library was no problem, since her husband had one and she slept in the same room with him. As for whether they’ll ever get her to the chair, you’ll have to watch the papers. The jury convicted her of the big one, with no recommendation, but to get a woman actually in that seat, especially a young one with a little oval face, takes a lot of doing.

Wolfe took Jarrell’s money, a check this time, and a very attractive one, and that’s all right, he earned it. But that was all he wanted from that specimen, or me either. He said it for both of us the day after Susan was indicted, when Jarrell phoned to say he was going to mail a check for a certain amount and would that be satisfactory, and when Wolfe said it would Jarrell went on: “And I was right, Wolfe. She’s a snake. You didn’t believe me the day I came to hire you, and neither did Goodwin, but now you know I was right, and that gives me a lot of satisfaction. She’s a snake.”

“No, sir.” Wolfe was curt. “I do not know you were right. She is a murderess, a hellcat, and a wretch, but you have furnished no evidence that she is a snake. I still do not believe you. I will be glad to get the check.”

He hung up and so did I.