Rex Stout: If Death Ever Slept

I said that no man can stop a conversation the way a woman can, but I must admit that Otis Jarrell had made a darned good stab at it. I also admit I was flattered. Obviously he had gone to Wolfe just to get me, to get me there in his library so he could offer me sixty grand and expenses to frame his daughter-in-law, who probably wasn’t a snake at all. If she had been, his itch to get rid of her would have been legitimate, and he could have left it as a job for Wolfe and just let me earn my salary.

It sure was flattering. “That’s quite a proposition,” I said, “but there’s a hitch. I work for Mr. Wolfe. He pays me.”

“You’ll still be working for him. I only want you to do what I hired him to do. He’ll get his fee.”

That was an insult to my intelligence. He didn’t have to make it so damned plain. It would have been a pleasure to square my shoulders and lift my chin and tell him to take back his gold and go climb a tree, and that would have been the simplest way out, but there were drawbacks. For one thing, it was barely possible that she really was a snake and no framing would be required. For another, if she wasn’t a snake, and if he was determined to frame her, she needed to know it and deserved to know it, but he was still Wolfe’s client, and all I had was what he had said to me with no witnesses present. For still another, there was the ten grand in Wolfe’s safe, not mine to spurn. For one more if we need it, I have my full share of curiosity.

I tightened my face to look uncomfortable. “I guess,” I said, “I’ll have to tell Mr. Wolfe about your proposition. I think I will. I’ve got to protect myself.”

“Against what?” he demanded.

“Well ... for instance, you might talk in your sleep.”

He laughed. “I like you, Goodwin. I knew we’d get along. This is just you and me, and you don’t need protection any more than I do. You know your way around and so do I. What do you want now for expenses? Five thousand? Ten?”

“Nothing. Let it ride and we’ll see.” I loosened the face. “I’m not accepting your proposition, Mr. Jarrell. I’m not even considering it. If I ever found myself feeling like accepting it, I’d meet you somewhere that I was sure wasn’t wired for sound. After all, Horland’s Protective Agency might be listening in right now.”

He laughed again. “You are cagey.”

“Not cagey, I just don’t want my hair mussed. Do you want me to go on with the program? As you suggested?”

“Certainly I do. I think we understand each other, Goodwin.” He put a fist on the desk. “I’ll tell you this, since you probably know it anyway. I’d give a million dollars cash any minute to get rid of that woman for good and call it a bargain. That doesn’t mean you can play me for a sucker. I’ll pay for what I get, but not for what I don’t get. Any arrangements you make, I want to know who with and for exactly what and how much.”

“You will. Have you any more suggestions?”

He didn’t have, at least nothing specific. Even after proposing, as it looked to me, an out-and-out frame, he still thought, or pretended to, that I might raise some dust by cultivating the inmates. He tried to insist on an advance for expenses, but I said no, I would ask for it if and when needed. I was surprised that he didn’t refer again to my notion that I might have to tell Wolfe about his proposition; apparently he was taking it for granted that I would take my bread buttered on both sides if the butter was thick enough. He was sure we understood each other, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure of anything. Before I went he gave me two keys, one for the front door and one for the library. He said he had to make a phone call, and I said I was going out for a walk. He said I could use the phone there, or in my room, and I said that wasn’t it, I always took a little walk in the evening. Maybe we understood each other at that, up to a point.

I went to the front vestibule, took the private elevator down, nodded at the sentinel in the lobby — not the one who had been there when I arrived — walked east to Madison, found a phone booth, and dialed a number.

After one buzz a voice was in my ear. “Nero Wolfe’s residence, Orville Cather speaking.”

I was stunned. It took me a full second to recover. Then I spoke, through my nose. “This is the city mortuary. We have a body here, a young man with classic Grecian features who jumped off Brooklyn Bridge. Papers in his wallet identify him as Archie Goodwin and his address—”

“Toss it back in the river,” Orrie said. “What good is it? It never was much good anyway.”

“Okay,” I said, not through my nose. “Now I know. May I please speak to Mr. Wolfe?”

“I’ll see. He’s reading a book. Hold it.”

I did so, and in a moment got a growl. “Yes?”

“I went for a walk and am in a booth. Reporting: the bed is good and the food is edible. I have met the family and they are not mine, except possibly the daughter, Lois. She shot a squirrel and wrote a poem about it. I’m glad you’ve got Orrie in to answer the phone and do the chores because that may simplify matters. You can stop my salary as of now. Jarrell has offered me sixty grand and expenses, me personally, to get the goods on his daughter-in-law and bounce her. I think his idea is that the goods are to be handmade, by me, but he didn’t say so in so many words. If it takes me twelve weeks that will be five grand a week, so my salary would be peanuts and you can forget it. I’ll get it in cash, no tax to pay, and then I’ll probably marry Lois. Oh yes, you’ll get your fee too.”

“How much of this is flummery?”

“None of the facts. The facts are straight. I am reporting.”

“Then he’s either a nincompoop or a scalawag or both.”

“Probably but not necessarily. He said he would give a million dollars to get rid of her and consider it a bargain. So it’s just possible he has merely got an itch he can’t reach and is temporarily nuts. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt because he’s your client.”

“And yours.”

“No, sir. I didn’t accept. I decided an advance for expenses. I turned him down, but with a manner and a tone of voice that sort of left it hanging. He thinks I’m just being cagey. What I think, I think he expects me to fix up a stew that will boil her alive, but I have been known to think wrong. I admit it’s conceivable that she has it coming to her. One thing, she attracts men without apparently trying to. If a woman gathers them around by working a come-on, that’s okay, they have a choice, they can play or not as they please. But when they come just because she’s there, with no invitation visible to the naked eye, and I have good eyes, look out. She may not be a snake, in fact she may be an angel, but angels can be more dangerous than snakes and usually are. I can stick around and try to tag her, or you can return the ten grand and cross it off. Which?”

He grunted. “Mr. Jarrell has taken me for a donkey.”

“And me for a goop. Our pride is hurt. He ought to pay for the privilege, one way or another. I’ll keep you informed of developments, if any.”

“Very well.”

“Please remind Orrie that the bottom drawer of my desk is personal and there’s nothing in it he needs.”

He said he would, and even said good night before he hung up. I bought a picture postcard at the rack, and a stamp, addressed the card to Fritz, and wrote on it, “Having wonderful time. Wish you were here. Archie,” went and found a mailbox and dropped the card in, and returned to the barracks.

In the tenth-floor vestibule I gave my key a try, found that it worked, and was dazzled by no flash of light as I entered, so the thing hadn’t been turned on for the night. As I crossed the reception hall I was thinking that the security setup wasn’t as foolproof as Jarrell thought, until I saw that Steck had appeared from around a corner for a look at me. He certainly had his duties.