Рекс Стаут - Death Times Three

Purley took another step, and another. He probably thought a slow and measured advance would be more impressive and menacing, and, as a matter of fact, it was, or would have been if I hadn’t seen it before.

“Greetings,” I said.

“The scene of a murder,” he said, “and you.” He came to a stop an arm’s length from me.

I grinned at him. “This time,” I said, “you’re in for a disappointment. I haven’t got the answer ready for you because I’m not interested. Sorry, but my mind is elsewhere. Actually I’m just on a fishing trip.” My eyes went to Carl Drew, who had approached on the left. “If that’s Miss Thorne, would you mind introducing me, Mr. Drew?”

“That’s me,” she said. “No introduction required. You’re Archie Goodwin.” Now that all of her was in view, I could see that the mouth and chin were no letdown from the other details.

“Fishing,” Purley croaked. “For what?”

“Fish.” I put one brow up. He thinks I do that because I know he can’t, but my motives are my business. “Listen, sergeant. Don’t let’s start ring-around-a-rosy and end in a squat. If you demand to know why I’m poking my nose in a murder, you know darned well what you’ll get, so what’s the use? Even if I told you what I’m here for — and I’m not going to — you wouldn’t have the faintest idea if or how it’s connected with what you’re here for. Neither have I. Anyhow, I’m about finished and I’ve had no lunch. All I want is a few words in private with Miss Thorne... If you will be so good, Miss Thorne?”

“Certainly,” she said. “My room is down the hall.”

“Just a minute,” Stebbins growled. “Maybe you’d like a ride downtown.” To me.

“I’ve already been downtown. I spent two hours at the D.A.’s office this morning.”

“Did you tell them you were coming here?”

“I didn’t know I was coming here. I went home, and Mr. Wolfe sent me on an errand.”

“And I find you here. And you’re obstructing justice and withholding evidence, as usual.”

“Nuts. What evidence?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I’m not going to waste time horsing around with you.” He moved. “Miss Gallant, what has this guy been saying to you?”

That would not do. Wolfe hadn’t told me he wanted to keep his conjecture to himself, but I took it for granted that he did, since he hadn’t even told me, and he certainly wouldn’t want Purley Stebbins sticking his big thumb in, not to mention Cramer and the rest of the Homicide gang. And if Flora didn’t spill it, one of the others probably would.

Action was called for. I stepped in front of Purley and told Flora, “Come on, I want to tell your brother something I want you to hear. Come along.” She took half a second for a glance at Purley, then left her chair, and I took her arm. As we headed for the door I told Carl Drew and Emmy Thorne, “You too. I want you all to hear. Come along.”

They came. Going down the hall they were right behind Flora and me, and on their heels was Stebbins. On past the elevator. At Gallant’s room I turned the knob and swung the door wide, and stood on the sill to say my piece.

“Sorry to interrupt you again, Mr. Gallant, but Sergeant Stebbins is trying to exceed his authority, as usual. He wants me to tell him what I came to see you people about, and I won’t, and he thinks he’s going to squeeze it out of you. Of course you can tell him if you want to, but there’s no reason why you should, and if you ask me, I wouldn’t. Sometimes the police are entirely too inquisitive. They mean well, but so did the boy who aimed a rock at a rabbit and hit his sister.”

Flora slid past me to enter the room. Carl Drew wanted in, too, and I moved aside for him, and Stebbins followed him, glaring at me as he passed. I felt a touch on my elbow and turned.

“That was quite a speech,” Emmy Thorne said. “I would have clapped if I had known you were through.”

“Glad you liked it. Absolutely unrehearsed. No script.”

“Wonderful. If you want some words in private, my room is at the end of the hall. This way.”

Her room was about half the size of the two others I had seen, and there was no display of either women or clothes. A table had piles of magazines and portfolios, and there was only one chair besides the one at her desk. I stood until she was seated and then pulled the other chair up.

“Flora says you dance well,” she said.

“Good for her. I can chin myself twenty times too.”

“I’ve never tried that.” Her left eye had more blue in it than the right one, or maybe it was the light. “What is this nonsense about letters from Sarah Yare?”

“You know,” I said, “my tie must be crooked or I’ve got a grease spot. Mr. Drew resented me, and Mr. Gallant was going to throw an ash tray at me. Now you start in. Why is it nonsense to ask a simple question politely and respectfully?”

“Well,” she conceded, “maybe ‘nonsense’ isn’t exactly the word. Maybe ‘gall’ would be better. What right have you to march in here and ask questions at all? Polite or not.”

“None. It’s not a right, it’s a liberty. And you’re at liberty to tell me to go climb a tree if you find the question ticklish. Have you any letters from Sarah Yare?”

She laughed. She had good teeth. Then, abruptly, she cut the laugh off. “Good Lord,” she said, “I didn’t think I would ever laugh again. This awful business, what happened here yesterday, and then Sarah. No, I have no letters from her.” Her blue eyes, straight at me, were cool and keen. “Why should I find the question ticklish?”

“No reason that I know of. You said I had gall to ask it.”

“If it hurt your feelings I take it back. What else?”

Again I had to resist temptation. With Drew the temptation had been purely professional; with her it was only partly professional and only partly pure. Cramer had said she was in charge of contacts, and one more might be good for her.

Having resisted, I shook my head. “Nothing else, unless you know of something. For instance, if you know of anyone who might have letters.”

“I don’t.” She regarded me. “Of course I’m curious. I’m wondering what it’s about — your coming here. You told Mr. Drew that you don’t know, that you don’t even know who hired Nero Wolfe to inquire about her.”

“That’s right. I don’t.”

“Then you can’t tell me. I can’t turn on the charm and coax it out of you. Can I?”

“I’m afraid not.” I stood up. “Too bad. I would enjoy seeing you try. You’re probably pretty good at it.”

In the hall, on my way to the elevator, I stopped at Gallant’s door and cocked an ear. I heard a rumble (that was Purley); and a soprano murmur (that was Anita Prince); and a bellicose baritone (that was Gallant). But the door was too thick for me to get the words.

Emerging from the building, I turned left, found a phone booth on Madison Avenue, dialed the number I knew best, got Fritz and asked for Wolfe.

His voice came, “Yes, Archie?”

“It’s full of fish. Swarming. Sarah Yare bought her clothes there for two years and they all loved her. Apparently she never wrote letters. They all want to know who hired you and why, especially Flora Gallant. I’ve had no lunch and I’m half starved, but I stopped to phone because there may be some urgency. Stebbins walked in on me, and of course he wanted to know what I was doing there.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Certainly not. When he said he would get it out of them, I got them all together and made a speech — you know, a man’s brain is his castle. But one of them might spill it any minute, and I thought you ought to know right away, in case that would mess up your program, if you’ve really got one.”