Rex Stout - Bullet for One

“I thought you didn’t know what they took him for.”

“I don’t. But you’ll see. He was with me, wasn’t he?” She slid off the desk and was erect. “I think— I’m pretty sure— I’m going to see Dorothy Keyes.”

“She’s busy with a caller.”

“I know it, but he may be gone.”

“A man named Donaldson, and I’m wondering about him. I have a hunch Miss Keyes is starting a little investigation on her own. Do you happen to know if this Donaldson is a detective?”

“I know he isn’t. He’s a lawyer and a friend of Mr. Keyes. I’ve seen him here several times. Do you—”

What interrupted her was a man coming in the door and heading for us.

It was a man I had known for years. “We’re busy,” I told him brusquely. “Come back tomorrow.”

I should have had sense enough to give up kidding Sergeant Purley Stebbins of the Homicide Squad long ago, since it always glanced off and rolled away. When he got sore, as he often did, it wasn’t at the kidding but at what he considered my interference with the performance of his duty.

“So you’re here,” he stated.

“Yep. Miss Rooney, this is Sergeant—”

“Oh, I’ve met him before.” Her face was just as sour at him as it had been at me.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Purley acquiesced. His honest brown eyes were at her. “I’ve been looking for you, Miss Rooney.”

“Oh, my Lord, more questions?”

“The same ones. Just checking up. You remember that statement you signed, where you said that Tuesday morning you were at the riding academy with Safford from a quarter to six until after half-past seven, and both of you were there all the time? You remember that?”

“Certainly I do.”

“Do you want to change it now?”

Audrey frowned. “Change what?”

“Your statement.”

“Of course not. Why should I?”

“Then how do you account for the fact that you were seen riding a horse into the park during that period, and Safford, on another horse, was with you, and Safford has admitted it?”

“Count ten,” I snapped at her, “before you answer. Or even a hun—”

“Shut up,” Purley snarled. “How do you account for it, Miss Rooney? You must have figured this might come and got something ready for it. What’s the answer?”

Audrey had left her perch on the desk to get on her feet and face the pursuer. “Maybe,” she suggested, “someone couldn’t see straight. Who says he saw us?”

“Okay.” Purley hauled a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He looked at me. “We’re careful about these little details when that fat boss of yours has got his nose in.” He held the paper so Audrey could see it. “This is a warrant for your arrest as a material witness. Your friend Safford wanted to read his clear through. Do you?”

She ignored his generous offer. “What does it mean?” she demanded.

“It means you’re going to ride downtown with me.”

“It also means—” I began.

“Shut up.” Purley moved a step. His hand started for her elbow, but didn’t reach it, for she drew back and then turned and was on her way. He followed and was at her heels as she went out the door. Apparently she thought she had found a way to get to see her Wayne.

I sat a little while with my lips screwed up, gazing at the ashtray on the desk. I shook my head at nothing in particular, just the state of things, reached for the phone, got an outside line, and dialed again.

Wolfe’s voice answered.

“Where’s Orrie?” I demanded. “Taking a nap on my bed?”

“Where are you?” Wolfe inquired placidly.

“Still in Keyes’ office. More of the same. Two more gone.”

“Two more what? Where?”

“Clients. In the hoosegow. We’re getting awful low—”

“Who and why?”

“Wayne Safford and Audrey Rooney.” I told him what had happened, without bothering to explain that Audrey had walked in before our previous conversation had ended. At the end I added, “So four out of five have been snaffled, and Talbott too. We’re in a fine fix. That leaves us with just one, Dorothy Keyes, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she was also on her way, judging from the look on her face when she heard who was— Hold it a minute.”

What stopped me was the sight of another visitor entering the room. It was Dorothy Keyes. I told the phone, “I’ll call back,” hung up, and left my chair.

Dorothy came to me. She was still human, more so if anything. The perky lift of her was completely gone, the color scheme of her visible skin was washed-out gray, and her eyes were pinched with trouble.

“Mr. Donaldson gone?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“It’s a bad day all around. Now Miss Rooney and Wayne Safford have been pinched. The police seem to think they left out something about that Tuesday morning. I was just telling Mr. Wolfe when you came—”

“I want to see him,” she said.

“Who? Mr. Wolfe?”

“Yes. Immediately.”

“What about?”

I’ll be damned if her brows didn’t go up. The humanity I thought I had seen was only on the surface.

“I’ll tell him that,” she stated, me being mud. “I must see him at once.”

“You can’t, not at once,” I told her. “You could rush there in a taxi, but you might as well wait till I go to Sixty-fifth Street and get my car, because it’s after four o’clock and he’s up with the orchids, and he wouldn’t see you until six even though you are the only client he’s got still out of jail.”

“But this is urgent!”

“Not for him it isn’t, not until six o’clock. Unless you want to tell me about it. I’m permitted upstairs. Do you?”

“No.”

“Then shall I go get my car?”

“Yes.”

I went.

At three minutes past six Wolfe, down from the plant rooms, joined us in the office. By the time Dorothy and I had got there she had made it perfectly plain that as far as I was concerned she was all talked out, our conversation during the ride downtown having consisted of her saying at one point, “Look out for that truck,” and me replying, “I’m driving,” so during the hour’s wait I hadn’t even asked her if she wanted a drink. And when Wolfe had entered and greeted her, and got his bulk adjusted in his chair behind his desk, the first thing she said was, “I want to speak to you privately.” Wolfe shook his head.

“Mr. Goodwin is my confidential assistant, and if he didn’t hear it from you he soon would from me. What is it?”

“But this is very — personal.”

“Most things said in this room by visitors are. What is it?”

“There is no one I can go to but you.” Dorothy was in one of the yellow chairs, facing him, leaning forward to him. “I don’t know where I stand, and I’ve got to find out. A man is going to tell the police that I forged my father’s name to a check. Tomorrow morning.”

Her face was human again, with her eyes pinched.

“Did you?” Wolfe asked.

“Forge the check? Yes.”

I lifted my brows.

“Tell me about it,” Wolfe said.

It came out, and was really quite simple. Her father hadn’t given her enough money for the style to which she wanted to accustom herself. A year ago she had forged a check for three thousand dollars, and he had of course discovered it and had received her promise that she would never repeat. Recently she had forged another one, this time for five thousand dollars, and her father had been very difficult about it, but there had been no thought in his head of anything so drastic as having his daughter arrested.

Two days after his discovery of this second offense he had been killed. He had left everything to his daughter, but had made a lawyer named Donaldson executor of the estate, not knowing, according to Dorothy, that Donaldson hated her. And now Donaldson had found the forged check among Keyes’ papers, with a memorandum attached to it in Keyes’ handwriting, and had called on Dorothy that afternoon to tell her that it was his duty, both as a citizen and as a lawyer, considering the manner of Keyes’ death, to give the facts to the police. It was an extremely painful duty, he had asserted, but he would just have to grin and bear it.