Rex Stout - Where There's a Will

“There isn’t any. He didn’t make any.”

“I choke on that,” Cramer declared bluntly. “If she made no agreement, signed nothing, Hawthorne’s fortune belonged to her when she died, and Wolfe’s clients are out of luck.”

“And,” I suggested, “whoever inherits from her is in luck. Had you thought of that?”

Hombert growled. Cramer looked startled. Skinner demanded, “And who is that? Who inherits from her?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Not me.”

“You’re pretty fresh, aren’t you, Goodwin?”

“Yes, sir. I resent being corraled up there with the herd for four hours. You could have taken me first as well as last. I know why you did it.” I nodded at the pile of notes on the table. “You wanted to toss my lies right back at me. Go ahead and try.”

But they wasted an hour peering into empty holes before they got to that part. When and where had I first seen Naomi Karn. Ditto Wolfe. Exactly what had happened, and what had been said, when I went to her apartment to get her the day before. Then the previous visitation of the Hawthornes and auxiliaries. What had April said. What had May said. What had June said. Had anyone threatened anyone. Then the talk with Naomi after the others had left. I tried to be obliging, but of course there were certain details that I regarded as inappropriate for the detective to have in his notebook, such as Naomi’s calling Stauffer Ossie and Daisy Hawthorne’s attack on the integrity of our clients, and I excluded those. Another thing I neglected to mention was the Davis-Dawson episode that morning. I merely said that Wolfe got a phone call from Dunn around 9:30 and came to 67th Street, and that I joined him there about an hour later. Then I pulled a sheet of paper from my pocket and handed it across to Skinner.

“I thought a timetable might simplify it,” I told him, “so I typed one on a machine up in the library while I was awaiting your pleasure.”

Hombert and Cramer got up and went to have a look at it, one over each shoulder of the district attorney. While they were digesting it I glanced over the carbon copy I had kept for myself:

10:45 Joined Wolfe, Dunn & wife in library.

11:10 Butler announced Skinner, Cramer & Hombert calling on Dunn.

11:30 Phoned Durkin, Panzer & Keems. Sara Dunn came.

12:10 April, Celia & Stauffer.

12:30 Those three left. Panzer & Keems came, got instructions, and left.

1:10 Lunch.

2:15 Cramer came.

2:35 He left. Daisy H. came.

2:40 Durkin came.

2:42 I went outdoors and spoke to Orrie. Re-entered house and saw Naomi Karn in living room.

2:50 Durkin left.

3:10 I went downstairs and had short talk with Naomi Karn and returned to library.

4:55 Phone call from Panzer.

5:00 Daisy H. left.

5:05 I went to living room. Naomi Karn not there. Eugene Davis was. Took him to library. 5:40 Prescott came.

5:45 Davis & Prescott left.

5:55 Butler came. Dunn wanted Wolfe in living room. Wolfe & I went.

6:05 Bronson, Stauffer, Prescott & Ritchie went upstairs, leaving Dunn, Wolfe & me in living room.

6:11 Found body.

It looked all right. The few little items I had left out, such as Daisy’s first draperies act, Sara’s asking to see Wolfe, the counterfeit Daisy and her disappearance, and Stauffer’s ambush, were all things they couldn’t be expected to get from other sources.

“It’s nice to have this,” said Skinner. “Thank you very much.” So he was going to try being oily. “Now just tell me what Wolfe was discussing with Mr. and Mrs. Dunn.”

That started the second hour.

I had had plenty of time to get my mind in order, so it went along without much friction. Having ruled out Sara’s confession and Daisy’s story of the cornflower and a few other things I gave them enough to account for the afternoon. Naturally there were a few little clashes, the most serious one arising from Skinner’s suggestion that it would be a good plan for me to turn over my notes of the various interviews. I told him they were Nero Wolfe’s property and if he got them at all it would have to be from Wolfe himself. They yapped some about that and Hombert got pretty unpleasant, but the notes stayed in my pocket. After that they calmed down again, and later even did me the honor to ask my opinion on a technical point. The police, they said, had seen the bar only when it was lit by electricity, whereas I had been there when the only light came from the little window in one corner, and only a moment after Daisy Hawthorne had left by the rear door. Mrs. Hawthorne had admitted to them that she had been there and that I had seen her leave. She had stated that, being reluctant to appear before people wearing that veil, she often entered the bar from the rear to observe callers from the shelter of the curtains; that she had done so today when she had been told that Ritchie and Bronson had come to inspect Hawthorne’s private papers; that she had been there only a few minutes when my approach caused her to retreat; and that she had seen nothing on the floor behind the bar. With the light as it was in there at that time, did I think she could have entered by the door and failed to see the body?

I said yes, the light had been so dim that even when I stooped right over the body I had barely been able to tell who it was.

They skated around a while longer, and then Skinner sprung one on me that I had been expecting ever since I entered. It had in fact been on my tongue a couple of times to anticipate it, but I had decided there was no sense in depriving them of a little pleasure along with their work. So I concealed my grin when Skinner began a build-up for it.

He said casually, “One point that bothers us is that no one heard any outcry, not even the servants at the rear of this floor, and there wasn’t the slightest sign of a struggle. Miss Karn seems to have been healthy and fairly sturdy. But apparently she didn’t call for help and she offered no resistance to speak of.”

“That’s surprising,” I agreed. “We didn’t hear anything up in the library.”

“I was just going to ask if you did.”

“Nope. Of course, in cases of strangulation you’ll often find that the victim was first rendered helpless by a blow or a drug or something. Your M.E. could tell you. And by the way, that reminds me of something I forgot to mention, while Davis was up there with us I offered to get him a drink because he looked like he could use one, and I went to the bar and poured about half a pint from a bottle of MacNeal’s Diamond Label.”

Cramer glared at me and snorted. “The hell you did.” Hombert only snorted. Skinner said dryly, “Some day, Goodwin, you’re going to pull one of those cute ones and it’ll fly right back in your face.”

“Gosh, that wasn’t cute,” I protested. “To be honest, I was worried. I saw that bruise on her head which must have come from a good hard blow. The handiest thing around there to strike a blow with, enough to put her out at one crack, was one of those bottles, especially if the murderer approached through the bar and the draperies, which seemed likely. If he did that, of course he would wipe his prints from the bottle before he put it back. But my prints were there, nice fresh ones, on that bottle of MacNeal’s. Would you fellows find them? That’s what had me worried stiff. You might possibly miss them. But probably you wouldn’t. So I finally decided the only thing to do was to come clean and tell you exactly—”

“Shut up and beat it!” Cramer growled. “Why in the name of God 40,000 people get killed in automobile accidents every year and not one of them is you — take him out, Grier.” That to the dick who had brought me in and who was on a chair by the door. “Go home and if Nero Wolfe’s there tell him — don’t tell him anything. I’ll see him. I’ll see you too. Stay where I can find you.”