Rex Stout - Not Quite Dead Enough

My brows went up. “You are? You and Miss Amory?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He squinted at me. “So I wondered why you came to see me, and I thought maybe it was to tell me something about her, or ask me something, and that made me wonder — Anyhow, if you know whether she’s in trouble I wish you’d tell me.”

Except for the fact that I had solved the mystery of Ann’s fiancé, or rather it had solved itself, that certainly didn’t sound as if Roy’s visit was going to break anything. However, since I had him there, I thought I might as well see what he had concealed on his person, so I proceeded to treat him as a friend. I told him I was sorry I couldn’t help him out any on the nature of Ann’s difficulty, if any, and casually guided the conversation in the direction of the inhabitants of 316 Barnum Street. That proved to be a boomerang. The minute we arrived at that address he got started on pigeons, and then did he talk!

I learned things. He had been in the fancy, as he put it, since boyhood. Mrs. Leeds had built the loft for him and kept him going, and now Miss Leeds was carrying on. His birds had won a total of 116 diplomas in young bird races and 63 diplomas in old bird races. One year his Village Susie, a Blue Check Grooter, had returned first in the Dayton Great National, with 3,864 birds, 512 lofts competing. He had lost fourteen birds in the big smash in the Trenton 300-mile special last year. The best racing pigeons in the world, in his opinion, were the Dickinson strain of Sion-Stassarts — Dusky Diana was one.

I couldn’t get him off it. As the clock on the wall crept along toward 6:00 I began to think I’d have to pick him up and carry him outdoors, since Wolfe would come in from training soon after 6:00 and I didn’t want him there. But that problem was solved for me. At 5:55 the doorbell rang, and Roy got up and said he would be going, and followed me out to the front. I pulled the curtain aside for a look, and what did I see on the stoop but Lily Rowan, and she had seen me.

I slipped the chain in the socket so the door would only open four inches, let it come that far, and announced through the crack:

“Air raid alarm. Go home and get under the bed. I’m on—”

Her hand came in through the crack, her arm nearly up to the elbow.

“Shut it on that,” she said savagely. “Let me in.”

“No, girlie, I—”

“Let me in! Do you want me to yell it for the whole neighborhood—”

“Yell what?”

“There’s been a murder!”

“You mean there will be a murder. Some day—”

“Archie! You damned idiot! I tell you Ann Amory has been murdered! If you don’t—”

There was a noise from Roy at my elbow. I pushed him aside, slipped the chain off, let Lily through, shut the door, and got her by the shoulders, gripping her good.

“Spill it,” I told her. “If you think you’re putting on a charade—”

“Quit hurting me!” she spat. Then she was quiet. “All right, keep on hurting me. Go on. Harder.”

“Spill it, my love.”

“I am spilling it. I went there to see Ann. When I rang the bell the latch didn’t click, so I rang another bell and got in. The door of her apartment was standing a little open, so I knocked once and then went in. I thought she must be there because I had phoned her office and she said she would get home before five-thirty, and it was a quarter to six. She was there all right. She was there on the floor propped up against a chair with a scarf tied around her throat and her tongue hanging out and her eyes popping. She was dead. I saw she was dead and I—”

Roy Douglas went. He did it so quick, pulled the door open and scooted, that I didn’t even get a chance to make a grab for him.

“Goddamn it,” I said. I turned Lily loose and glanced at my wrist — 6:02. If I beat it with her it would be just my luck for Wolfe to be approaching and see me. Lily was sputtering:

“I tell you, Archie, it was the most awful—”

“Shut up.” I opened the door to the front room, steered her inside, and closed the door. “You do what I tell you, girlie, or I swear to God I’ll scalp you. Sit down and don’t breathe. Nero Wolfe will be coming in and I don’t want him to know you’re here. No, sit there, away from the window. I want to know one thing. Did you kill her?”

“No.”

“Look at me. You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Archie—”

“Shut up.”

I sat on the edge of a chair and put my fists on my knees and stared at the wall. I can’t think with my eyes closed the way Wolfe does. In maybe three minutes I thought I had it, at least a sketch of it, if only it hadn’t been for that damn Douglas kid. It all depended on him.

I looked at Lily. “Keep your voice low so we can hear the door open. You’d better whisper. How often have you been to the apartment?”

“Only once. A long time ago. I love you like this, Arch—”

“Save it for Christmas. Whose bell did you ring?”

“I don’t know. One of the upper—”

“Did anybody see you going in or coming out?”

“I don’t know about going in. I think not. I’m sure they didn’t coming out because I looked around and glanced up the stairs.”

“Does anybody there know you? Besides Ann?”

“Mrs. Chack does, that’s all. Ann’s grandmother.”

“Was anybody — hold it.”

The street door was opening. It closed again, and I heard Wolfe’s voice, and a murmur of Fritz’s. Footsteps went down the hall and the door to the kitchen opened and closed.

I went noiselessly to the door to the hall and eased it open. The one to the kitchen was shut, and sounds came from beyond it. I beckoned to Lily and when she joined me whispered in her ear, “Fast and silent. Understand?” and tiptoed to the front door and got it open without a sound. Lily slipped through and me after her, I shut the door with only a faint click, and we went down the steps to the sidewalk and turned east. She had to trot to keep up. When we reached the avenue and turned the corner I got her into a doorway.

“Now. Was anyone standing around the entrance when you went in?”

“Standing around? No. But what—”

“Don’t talk. I’m busy. You’re noticeable. Did anyone notice you going in or coming out?”

“I don’t think so. If they did I didn’t notice them.”

“Okay. I’m leaving you. Here’s your program. Go some place out of town, not far, Long Island or Westchester. Leave a note for me at the Ritz telling me where, but don’t tell anyone else. I—”

“You mean go now?”

“Right now. Pack a bag and go. Within an hour.”

“You go to hell.” She had my arm in both hands. “You darned nut, didn’t I run to you in my hour of need? I’m going to have a drink, several drinks, and you’re going to have some with me. What do you think I—”

I tried to bull it through, but nothing doing. She balked good, and time was precious. So I said, “Listen, angel. I’ve got a job to do and you’ve got to help. I haven’t time to explain it. Do as I say, and I’ll get a week-end leave Saturday and you can write your ticket, anything short of rowing on the lake in Central Park.”

“This coming Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“An absolutely unqualified promise?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“Gentlemen prefer blondes. Kiss me good-by.”

I made it a quick one, dashed across the sidewalk to a taxi, and told the driver corner of Barnum and Christopher, and step on it. My watch said 6:15. Roy had 13 minutes start on me.

On account of Roy Douglas, there was a mighty slim hope of being able to fill in my sketch, but when I jumped from the cab at the corner and hotfooted it for Number 316 and saw there was no sign of anything unusual, the chances looked slightly better. The odds against me were still about 20 to 1. If anyone else, including Roy, had beat me to it and called the cops or a doctor or even the neighbors, or if grandma had come home early, or if 17 other things, my plan was a washout.