Рекс Стаут - The Final Deduction

I could have made at least a dozen comments, but what was the use? I turned to the typewriter and the cards. When he left for the plant rooms at 3:59 I turned on the radio. Nothing new. Again at five o’clock. Nothing new. When the Gazette came it had pictures of fourteen people who had been at Fowler’s Inn or The Fatted Calf Tuesday evening, which showed what a newspaper that’s on its toes can do to keep the public informed. I was back at the typewriter when the doorbell rang at 5:55. I went to the hall, saw Ralph Purcell through the one-way glass, and stepped to the door and opened it, and he said apologetically, “I guess I’m a little early,” and offered a hand. I took it. What the hell, it wouldn’t be the first murderer I had shaken hands with.

As I took his hat the elevator jolted to a stop at the bottom, the door opened, and Wolfe emerged, three minutes ahead of time because he likes to be in his chair when company comes.

Purcell went to him. “I’m Ralph Purcell, Mr. Wolfe.” He had a hand out. “I’m a great admirer of yours. I’m Mrs. Jimmy Vail’s brother.”

Of course Wolfe had to take the hand, and when he does take a hand, which is seldom, he really takes it. As we went to the office Purcell was wiggling his fingers. Wolfe told him to take the red leather chair, went to his, got his bulk arranged, and spoke.

“I assume Mr. Tedder has explained the situation to you?”

Purcell was looking at me. When I gave Wolfe a report I am supposed to include everything, and I usually do, and I had had all the time there was Thursday afternoon at Doc Vollmer’s, but I had left out an item about Purcell. I had described him, of course — round face like his sister’s, a little pudgy, going bald — but I had neglected to mention that when someone started to say something he looked at someone else. I now learned that he didn’t go so far as to look at A when he was speaking to B. His eyes went to Wolfe.

“Yes,” he said, “Noel explained it, but I’m not sure — it seems a little—”

“Perhaps I can elucidate it. What did he say?”

“He said you were going to find the money for him — the money my sister paid the kidnaper. He asked me if I remembered that my sister had told him he could have the money if he found it, and of course I did. Then it seemed to be a little confused, but maybe it was just confused in my mind. Something about you wanted to ask me some questions because you thought one of us might know something about it on account of Dinah, Dinah Utley, and I thought he said something about one of us putting something in Jimmy’s drink, but when I asked about it he said you would explain that part of it.”

So Noel had been fairly tactful after all, at least with Uncle Ralph.

Wolfe nodded. “It’s a little complicated. The best— Why do you look at Mr. Goodwin when I speak?”

As Purcell’s eyes left me a flush came to his cheeks. “It’s a habit,” he said, “a very bad habit.”

“It is indeed.”

“I know. You notice my eyes stick out?”

“Not flagrantly.

“Thank you, but they do. When I was a boy people said I stared. One person especially. She—” He stopped abruptly. In a moment he went on. “That was long ago, but that’s why I do it. I only do it when someone starts speaking. After I talk a little I’m all right. I’m all right now.”

“Then I’ll proceed.” Wolfe propped his elbows on the chair arms and joined his fingertips to make a tent. “You know that Miss Utley had a hand in the kidnaping.”

“No, sir, I don’t. I mean I don’t know it, and I guess I don’t believe it. I heard what my sister said to Mr. Goodwin and what he said to her, and that’s all I know. The reason I don’t believe it, kidnaping is so dangerous, if you get caught you don’t stand any chance, and Dinah wasn’t like that. She wasn’t one to take big chances. I know that from how she played cards. Gin. She would hang onto a card she couldn’t possibly use if she thought it might fill me. Of course everyone does that if you know it will, but she did it if she only thought it might. You see?”

Wolfe didn’t, since he never plays cards, gin or anything else, but he nodded. “But you do take chances?”

“Oh, yes, I’m a born gambler. Three times my sister has staked me to some kind of wild idea I had — no, four — and none of them panned out. I’ll bet on anything. When I have anything to bet with.”

“Life needs some seasoning,” Wolfe conceded. “As for Miss Utley, you are wrong. She was involved in the kidnaping. If I told you how that has been established to my satisfaction you would probably still be skeptical. But having come to indulge Mr. Tedder, now that you’re here you might as well indulge me. If Miss Utley was involved, at least one of the kidnapers is someone she knew, and therefore I want information about her friends and acquaintances. I suppose you know them, some of them?”

“Well.” Purcell shifted his weight in the chair. “Now, that’s funny. Dinah’s friends. Of course she had friends, she must have, but I don’t really know any. She often went out evenings, movies and shows and so on, but I don’t know who she went with. That’s funny. I thought I knew her pretty well. Of course for acquaintances, she met a lot of people—”

The phone rang. I took it and got a familiar voice. “Archie? Fred. In a booth at the corner. Do I snatch a bite and come back or do I call it a day? I’m supposed to stay on him till he goes home. How long will he be there?”

“Hold it.” I turned to Wolfe. “Fred. His subject has entered a building, a tumble-down dump that could be a den of vice. He wants instructions. Should he crash it?”

Wolfe shot me a mean glance. “Tell him to quit for the day and resume in the morning.” To Purcell: “You were saying?”

But Uncle Ralph waited until I had relayed the order, hung up, and swiveled. Good manners, even if he didn’t belong. “About Dinah’s acquaintances,” he said, “she met a lot of people there at the house, dinner guests and now and then a party, but that wouldn’t be what you want. You want a different type, someone she might use for something dangerous like kidnaping.”

“Or someone who might use her.”

Purcell shook his head. “No, sir. I don’t think Dinah would take a chance at kidnaping, but if she did she would be in charge. She would be the boss.” He lifted a hand for a gesture. “I said I’m an admirer of yours, Mr. Wolfe, and I really mean it. A great admirer. I know you’re never wrong about anything, and if you’re sure Dinah was involved you must have a good reason. I thought I knew her pretty well, and naturally I’m curious, but of course if you’re not telling anyone...”

“I have told someone.” Wolfe regarded him. “I have told the police, and it will probably soon be public knowledge, so I may as well satisfy your curiosity. Miss Utley typed the notes — the one that your sister received in the mail and the two she found in the telephone books. Indubitably.”

No perceptible reaction. You might have thought Purcell hadn’t heard. The only muscles that moved were the ones that blinked his eyelids as he kept focused on Wolfe Then he said, “Thank you for telling me. That shows I’m not as big a ninny as some people think I am. I suspected something like that when they asked me if I knew who had taken the typewriter from my sister’s study.”

“The police asked you?”

“Yes. I didn’t tell them, because I— Well, I didn’t, but I’ll tell you. I saw Dinah take it. Tuesday evening. Her car was parked in front, her own car, and I saw her take the typewriter out of the house, so she must have put it in the car.”

“What time Tuesday evening?”

“I didn’t notice, but it was before nine o’clock. It was about an hour after my sister had left in her car with the suitcase in it.”