Рекс Стаут - Death Times Three

Wolfe returned to Gallant. “Again, sir, I am being mistaken for a ninny. I agree with you that your sister was stupid, but you are not the one to proclaim it. You say that she arranged with Sarah Yare to abuse me on the phone, but Miss Yare didn’t stop at that. She ended by making noises indicating that she had been violently attacked, and jerked the phone off onto the floor, and made other noises, and then hung up the phone and cut the connection. Was that on her own initiative? Her own idea? Your sister’s stupidity can bow to yours if you expected me to overlook that point — or worse, if you missed it yourself.”

“I am not stupid, Mr. Wolfe.”

“Then you are devious beyond my experience.”

“Devious?”

“Rusé. Subtil.”

“No. I am not.” Gallant took a deep breath, and then another. “ Bien . We are at the point. Suppose — only to suppose — she arranged that, too, that comedy. Suppose even that she killed Bianca Voss. Was that a crime? No. It was justice. It was the hand of God. Bianca Voss was an evil woman. She was vilaine . Are you so filled with virtue that you must condemn my sister? Are you a paragon? For she is in your hands, at your mercy. You know about Sarah Yare, but the police do not. You know she dialed that number, but the police do not, and they will not unless you tell them. By your word it can be that my sister was here with you at the time that Bianca Voss was killed. As I have said, I will pay you. Pay you well. It will be a great service from you, and it deserves payment. I will pay you now.”

Wolfe grunted. “That was an admirable speech.”

“It was not a speech. I do not make speeches. It was an appeal to your charity. From my heart.”

“And to my cupidity.” Wolfe shook his head. “No. I am not a paragon. I am not even a steward of the law. But you have ignored two important factors. One, my self-esteem. Even if Bianca Voss deserved to die, I will not permit myself to be taken for a simpleton. Two, another woman died too. Was Sarah Yare also evil? Was she vilaine? ”

Gallant gawked. I don’t suppose Lord Byron ever gawked, but Gallant did. “But she — Sarah killed herself!”

“No. I don’t believe it. That’s another coincidence I reject. Granted that she may have been wretched enough for that extreme, why did she choose that particular moment? Again too pat. According to the published account, the medical examiner says she died between ten o’clock yesterday morning and two in the afternoon, but now that is narrowed a little. Since she spoke with Mr. Goodwin and me on the phone at eleven-thirty, she died between that hour and two o’clock. I believe that the person who killed Bianca Voss at some time prior to eleven-thirty, having arranged with Sarah Yare to enact that comedy, as you call it, went to Sarah Yare’s apartment later and killed her. Indeed, prudence demanded it. So you ask too much of my charity. If only Bianca Voss had died—”

“No!” Gallant exploded. “Impossible! Totally impossible! My sister loved Sarah! She killed her? Insane!”

“But you believe she killed Bianca Voss. You came here believing that. All but one of you did. That was stupid too. She didn’t.”

Gallant’s jaw dropped and he froze with his mouth open. The others made noises. Flora gasped and sat stiffly in her chair.

Carl Drew demanded, “Didn’t? You say she didn’t?”

“What is this, Mr. Wolfe? A game?” Emmy Thorne asked, coming to her feet.

“No, madam, not a game. Nor a comedy — Mr. Gallant’s word. As a man I know said yesterday, murder is no joke.” Wolfe’s eyes went to Flora. “There was much against you, Miss Gallant, especially the fact that you dialed that other number before you dialed Sarah Yare’s, and asked someone you called Doris if Miss Voss was around. Are you too rattled to remember that?”

“No.” She was still rigid in her chair. “I’m not rattled, I’m just—” She let it hang. “I remember.”

“Of course, the reason for it was obvious, if you had killed Bianca Voss before you came here; you had to know that the body had not been found before you proceeded with your stratagem. But since you had not killed Bianca Voss, why did you make that call?”

“I wanted to make sure that she hadn’t gone out. That she was there in her office. You might call her again after I left and find out she hadn’t been there. I didn’t care if you called her and she denied she had talked to you like that. I thought you would think she was lying. I suppose that was stupid too.” Her mouth worked. “How did you know I didn’t kill her?”

“You told me. You showed me... If you had killed Bianca Voss and devised that elaborate humbug, certainly you would have decided how to act at the moment of crisis. You would have decided to be surprised, and shocked, and even perhaps a little dazed. But it wasn’t like that. You were utterly stunned with bewilderment. When Mr. Goodwin told us what Mr. Drew had said, you exclaimed, ‘He said she is dead?’ Then you said, ‘But how?’ And repeated it, ‘But how?’ If you had killed Bianca Voss you would have had to be a master dramatist to write such lines, and an actress of genius to deliver them as you did, and you are neither.”

Wolfe waved it away. “But that was for me. For others, for a judge and jury, I must do better, and I think I can. The fact remains that Bianca Voss was murdered. If you are innocent, someone else is guilty. Someone else learned of the arrangement you had made with Sarah Yare, either from you or from her, and persuaded her to add a dramatic climax on some pretext. Someone else killed Bianca Voss and then established an invulnerable alibi for the crucial period. Someone else had secured the required amount of cyanide — it doesn’t take much. Someone else, having established the alibi, went to Sarah Yare’s apartment and poisoned her glass of whisky. That was done before two o’clock, and that should make it simple. Indeed, it has made it simple. Shortly before you came I learned from Mr. Cramer of the police that you arrived at your brother’s place yesterday a few minutes after noon. Since you left here at a quarter of twelve, you hadn’t time to go first to Thirteenth Street and dispose of Sarah Yare; and you were continuously under the eyes of policemen the remainder of the afternoon. That is correct?”

“Yes,” Flora said. “When I left here I wanted to go and see what happened to Sarah, but I was afraid. I didn’t know—”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t, madam... I also learned from Mr. Cramer that you, Mr. Gallant; you, Mr. Drew; and you, Miss Prince, were also constantly under surveillance, for hours, from the time the police arrived. That accounts for four of you and leaves only one.”

His eyes narrowed at Emmy Thorne. “It leaves you, Miss Thorne. You were with three men in an office on Forty-sixth Street from eleven-twenty until a quarter to twelve. You arrived at Mr. Gallant’s place, and found the police there, shortly before three o’clock. You may be able to account for the interim satisfactorily. Do you want to try?”

“I don’t have to try.” Her eyes were narrowed, too, and she kept them straight at Wolfe. “So it is a game.”

“Not one you’ll enjoy, I fear. Nor will I; I’m out of it now. To disclose your acquisition of the cyanide you would need for Sarah Yare; to show that you entered Bianca Voss’ room yesterday morning, or could have, before you left for your business appointment; to find evidence of your visit to Thirteenth Street after your business appointment; to decide which homicide you will be put on trial for — all that is for others. You must see now that it was a mistake... Archie!”

I was up, but halted. Gallant, out of his chair and moving, wasn’t going to touch her. His fists were doubled, but not to swing; they were pressed against his chest.