Rex Stout: Where There's a Will

He nodded. “Say ten minutes to six.”

It was too damned hot to throw something at him. I merely made a disrespectful noise, beat it out to the sidewalk where the roadster was parked, climbed in, and was on my way.

I suppose altogether, in business and out, I’ve had dealings of one kind or another with more than a hundred baby dolls. I was more or less taking it for granted that my call on Naomi Karn that afternoon would add one more to the number, but I was wrong. As the maid escorted me through the large and luxurious foyer of the apartment on the twelfth floor, on Park Avenue near 74th — where I had got admitted by saying I was sent by Mr. Glenn Prescott — and ushered me into a cool dim room with cool summer covers on the furniture, and I got close enough for a good look at the woman standing by the piano bench, I saw right away that I was wrong.

She smiled. I wouldn’t say she smiled at me, she just smiled. “Mr. Goodwin? Sent by Mr. Prescott?”

“That’s right, Miss Karn.”

“I suppose I should have refused to see you. Only I don’t like to do that — it’s so stuffy.”

“Why should you have refused to see me?”

“Because, if you were sent by Mr. Prescott, you’ve come to bully me. Haven’t you?”

“Bully you about what?”

“Oh, come now.” She smiled again.

I waited a second, saw that she wasn’t going to add to it, and said, “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t sent by Prescott. I was sent by Nero Wolfe. He has been engaged by Noel Hawthorne’s sisters to discuss Hawthorne’s will with you.”

“Nero Wolfe, the detective?”

“That’s the one.”

“How interesting. When is he coming to see me?”

“He never goes to see anybody. He dislikes motion. He passed a law making it a criminal offense for his feet to remove him from his house except on rare occasions, and never on business. He hires me to run around inviting people to come to see him.”

Her brows lifted. “Do you mean you came to invite me?”

“That’s right. There’s no hurry. It’s only 4:30, and he doesn’t expect you until ten minutes to six.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It would be interesting to discuss something with Nero Wolfe.”

“Then come ahead.”

“No.” It sounded final. In fact, it sounded as near irrevocable as any “no” I ever heard.

I looked at her. There was no indication whatever of any strain of baby doll in her that I could see. She was close to something new in my experience. She wasn’t homely and she wasn’t pretty. She was dark rather than light, but she wouldn’t have been listed as brunette. None of her features would have classified for star billing, but somehow you didn’t see her features, you just saw her. As a matter of fact, after exchanging only a couple of sentences with her, I was sore. During nine years of detective work I had polished up my brass so that I regarded a rude stare at any human face nature’s fancy could devise merely as a matter of routine, but there was something in Naomi Karn’s eyes, or back of them, or somewhere, that made me want to meet them and shy away from them at the same time. It wasn’t the good old come-hither, the “welcome” on the door mat that biology uses for tanglefoot; I can slide through that like molasses through a tin horn. It was something as feminine as that, it was a woman letting a man have her eyes, but it was also a good deal more — like a cocky challenge from a cocky brain. I knew I had looked away from it, and I knew she knew I had, and I was sore.

“The truth is,” I said, “this thing has been handled incompetently. I understand that fellow Stauffer came to see you this morning and said if you didn’t divvy us, Hawthorne’s widow was going to contest it.”

She smiled. “Yes, Ossie tried to say something like that.”

“Ossie? Good name for him.”

“I think so. I’m glad you like it.”

“I do. But Ossie was deceiving you. The real point of the thing is much sharper than a court contest and it’s apt to hurt more.”

“Dear me. That’s alarming. What is it?”

I shook my head. “I’m not supposed to tell you. But this room is the coolest place I’ve been in today. I could give you a piece of marvelous advice if I felt like it. What are those things with four legs, chairs?”

A breath of a laugh came out of her. “Do sit down, Mr.—”

“Goodwin. Archie.”

“Do sit down.” She moved. It would have been a pleasure to watch her move if I hadn’t been sore at her. She wasn’t as graceful or overwhelming as April Hawthorne, but her motion was just as easy, and more straightforward, without any tricks. She was pushing a button. “What kind of a drink would you like?”

“I could use a glass of milk, thank you.” I selected a chair two paces away from the one she was taking. The maid entered, and was instructed to bring a glass of milk and a bottle of Borrand water. Miss Karn refused the cigarette I offered. When I had mine lit she remarked:

“You have alarmed me, you know. Terribly.” She sounded amused. “Will the milk make you feel like surrendering the advice?”

“I feel like it already.” I met her eyes and went on meeting them. “I advise you not to see Nero Wolfe. I’m being disloyal, of course, but I’m naturally treacherous anyhow, and besides, I don’t like the way they’re ganging up on you. I felt that way already, even before I saw you, but now...” I waved a hand.

“Now treachery is sweet.”

“It could be.”

“That’s very nice of you. Why do you advise me not to see Nero Wolfe?”

“Because I know the kind of trap he’s setting. What you should do is get a lawyer, a good one, and let Wolfe deal with him.”

She made a face. “I don’t like lawyers. I know too much about them — I worked for a law firm for three years.”

“You’ll have to hire a lawyer if there’s a contest.”

“I suppose I will. But you said I am threatened by something more dangerous than a contest. That trap Nero Wolfe is setting. What’s that like?”

I grinned at her and shook my head. The maid came with the liquids, and after Miss Karn’s Borrand water was poured and iced I took a sip of my milk. It was a little too cold, and I wrapped the glass with my palms, grinned again, and said, “It certainly is nice and cool here. I’m enjoying myself. Are you?”

“No,” she said, with a sudden and surprising sharpness in her tone, “I am not enjoying myself. A good friend of mine has died — just three days ago. Mr. Noel Hawthorne. Another man whom I regarded as my friend to a certain extent — at least not an enemy — is acting abominably. Mr. Glenn Prescott. He came here last evening and informed me of the terms of the will with a manner and tone that was inexcusable. Now he is openly conspiring with Mr. Hawthorne’s family against me. He sent that Stauffer here to threaten me. He sent you here with your childish babble about traps and treachery. Bah! Is your milk all right?”

“Yes. Excuse me, but like hell you’re not enjoying yourself. Shall we discuss it seriously?”

“I have no desire to discuss it at all. The one sensible thing you’ve said was that it has been handled incompetently. To send Ossie here to threaten me! I can make him stammer by looking at him! Incidentally, I can’t do that with you.”

“No, but you came close to it.” I grinned at her. “Also you have an idea that another twenty minutes will do the trick; that’s why you invited me to sit down. You may be right, but I can assure you I’m no Ossie. The fact is, I’m just killing time. My boss asked me to bring you to his house, down on 35th Street, at ten to six, but I’d prefer not to get you there until ten after. He needs a lesson about what to expect and what not to expect.” I glanced at my wrist. “We ought to be leaving fairly soon, at that. I had to park over east of Third Avenue.”