Рекс Стаут - Gambit

“Yeah. I don’t blame you. So of course you had to go for the chocolate and take it to him.”

“Of course.”

“And when Yerkes came and told you Jerin was sick you went and got the pot and cup and washed them out and brought fresh chocolate.”

“Of course. I went to see him, and obviously he had had enough.”

“Did you suspect then that there was something in the chocolate besides what you put in?”

“No, why should I? Kalmus had given me the bottle, and it had been in my pocket until I used it.”

“When he got worse and Kalmus got Dr. Avery to go to him, didn’t you suspect then that something else had been put in the chocolate by someone?”

“No. I didn’t suspect that until two days later, Thursday. What I did suspect was that a mistake had been made in preparing the contents of the bottle. So did Kalmus. I began to suspect that when Jerin got so bad he had to be taken to the hospital, and on my way to the hospital — I walked, and I was alone — I hid the bottle, and later, on my way home—”

“Where did you hide it?”

“In a plant tub. In the areaway of one of the houses I passed there was a tub with an evergreen shrub, and I put the bottle in under the peat moss. When I left the hospital later, that was after Jerin died, I got it and took it home, and the next day I took it to a laboratory to have it analyzed. I got the report—”

“What laboratory?”

“The Ludlow Laboratories on Forty-third Street. I got the report on the analysis the next day, Thursday, and showed it to Kalmus. It was just what he had ordered, a very mild dilution of a mixture of chloral hydrate and carbon tetrachloride. It couldn’t possibly have been fatal even if I had used all of it.”

“No arsenic?”

“No, damn it, just what I said.”

“Where’s the report now?”

“In a locked drawer in ray desk at my office, and the bottle too, with what’s left in it.”

“Well.” I took a moment to look at it. “You didn’t suspect that someone else had put arsenic in the chocolate, you knew it. Didn’t you? Since you knew they had found arsenic in Jerin?”

“Of course I knew it.”

“Did you have any idea who?”

“No.”

“Have you any idea now?”

“Apparently it must have been one of four men, the four who acted as messengers, because they were the only ones who entered the library. That didn’t seem possible because none of them could have had any reason. Then last week Kalmus had the idea that the purpose had been to get me — to get me where I am. But who? Of course not Kalmus, and which one of the other three could possibly have wanted to get me? They’re my friends. One of them is my wife’s nephew.”

“Are you telling me you still have no idea which one it was?”

“I am.”

I turned a hand over. “Look. Last night Kalmus was murdered, and almost certainly by the man who killed Jerin to get you. If so Kalmus had an idea, and a damn good one — too good. He tried to do something about it, which wasn’t very bright since he had got you to hire Nero Wolfe, and he got slugged and strangled. He came yesterday afternoon and talked you into hiring Nero Wolfe, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t have to talk me into it. I didn’t oppose it.”

“But he talked, and he had some one man in mind. He must have. Didn’t he say who?”

“No. He only said that he would have to tell Nero Wolfe about it, about what I had put in the chocolate, because he had to have an expert investigator and Wolfe was the best. If he had any one man in mind he didn’t say so. He just — wait a minute. He did say one thing. He asked me if I didn’t see what might have happened, and I said no and asked him what he meant, and he said he would tell me after he had discussed it with Wolfe. You think he had a particular man in mind?”

“Of course he did.”

“Who?”

That was one of the biggest temptations I have ever had to strangle. It would have been highly satisfying to show the client then and there that while Wolfe had the best brain he didn’t have the only brain, not to mention the additional pleasure of telling Wolfe what I had told the client. But I had to skip it; there was one chance in a thousand that I was wrong, and I needed to examine it for possible holes.

So I shook my head. “Search me,” I said. “There may have been something in his apartment that would give a hint, but if so the cops have got it now. I could go on asking you questions, plenty of them, but I’ve got what I came for, the fact that was known only to Kalmus and you, and it’s quite a fact, and Kalmus would be alive now if he had waited to consult Nero Wolfe instead of going ahead on his own.” I picked up the notebook that had nothing in it. “When Mr. Wolfe decides how to proceed he may let you know and he may not. With you here it’s complicated and it takes time.” I rose and got my hat and coat from a chair. “He can’t consult with your lawyer because even if you had one you wouldn’t want him to know about this.”

“But how will he — what will he do?”

“I don’t know. That’s for him. One thing sure, he’ll do something, but first he may send me back to you with questions. You may see me again tomorrow.” I stuck an arm in the coat.

He was on his feet. “My God,” he said. “My whole — I’m completely in the hands of a man I’ve never seen. Remember what I said, I’d rather stay here a month, a year, than have my wife and daughter know what an utter fool I was.”

That was what was on his mind as we parted, with a handshake, but not on mine. Was it possible that it was as simple as it looked? Wasn’t there a catch somewhere? As I went along the corridor, under escort, and on out to the sidewalk, and flagged a taxi, I looked it over from every angle, and by the time the taxi turned into Thirty-fifth Street I had decided that it was a hundred to one on two conclusions: one, I knew exactly what had happened that evening at the Gambit Club; and two, it would take a better man than even Nero Wolfe to prove it. There was positively no crack anywhere to get a wedge started.

But at least I could jostle him. Whatever he might have expected me to bring back, if anything, he hadn’t expected this. It was two minutes past six as the taxi rolled to the curb in front of the old brownstone, so he would be down from the plant rooms. I paid the hackie and got out, mounted the stoop and used my key, put my hat and coat on the hall rack, and went to the office. He was at his desk, opening a book with a blue binding; apparently African Genesis was finished. As I crossed to my desk he closed it. I put the unused notebook in the drawer, sat and faced him, and said, “I can name the man who killed Paul Jerin and Dan Kalmus.”

“Flummery,” he growled.

“No, sir. Any odds you name. But I prefer to see if you’re as sharp as I am, so I’ll just report, and I’ll begin by giving you the jolt Blount gave me. He poisoned the chocolate.”

“Pfui. Who killed Kalmus?”

“You’ll soon know. Verbatim?”

“Yes.”

I gave it to him, straight through. Usually he closes his eyes when I start a report and keeps them closed, but that time they opened when I asked Blount if he had poisoned the chocolate himself and he said yes, he did, and they didn’t close again until Blount said the report and the bottle were in a drawer in his office desk. When I finished he opened them, cocked his head, and said, “No wonder you can name him.”

“Yes, sir. I guess it’s a tie. I have a question. Had this possibility occurred to you Tuesday noon when you had Sally phone and get them to come, including him?”

“No. How could it? It was the chocolate that made Jerin ill, indubitably. Now that is accounted for.” He took a deep breath. “I am inexpressibly relieved. It has been all but intolerable, the strain of insulting my intelligence by forcing it to assume that one of them tampered with the chocolate when he entered to report a move, with Jerin there, and with the likelihood — no, certainty — that someone would interrupt at any instant. I knew it was egregious, and so did you. This is satisfactory, Archie.” He breathed deep again. “An analeptic for my self-esteem. Has it any flaws?”