Рекс Стаут: Death of a Doxy

Cramer folded it and returned it to his pocket. “Naturally, the first thing you’ll say, and I said, is that he doesn’t say he’s going to kill himself. No good-by. But they often don’t. The gun was there on the floor, and the bullet went through his right temple at the right angle. She talked a little to the precinct man, but now she’s out, completely out, under sedation. Of course we’ll get at her later, but I’m not expecting much. I’m spilling this to you because it settles the Kerr thing and you might as well know it, but it doesn’t settle everything. The shots that were fired at Julie Jaquette. You told me yesterday that you didn’t know who fired them.”

“I didn’t. I still don’t.”

“That’s a goddam lie.”

“I lie only when I must. Now it isn’t necessary. I told you yesterday that I suspected there was a connection between the murder of Isabel Kerr and the shots fired at Miss Jaquette, that I could guess, but I didn’t know.” Wolfe turned a hand over. “Mr. Cramer. There are certain details that I don’t intend to divulge, and anyway, you don’t need them now and would have no use for them. The murder is solved, and the culprit is dead. But not only are you a policeman with duties, you are also a man with the itch of curiosity, and furthermore I gall you. So I tell you this: I learned, no matter how, who was supplying the money for Isabel Kerr’s luxurious way of life, and certain facts about it, and that led me to my surmise that Barry Fleming had killed her. I also learned, again no matter how, that Barry Fleming feared that Miss Jaquette would disclose certain facts which he thought she had got from Isabel Kerr, and therefore she was in danger and should be protected. I did not know he fired the shots; I don’t know it now. As for lying, I give you my word of honor that what I have just told you is completely true. Miss Jaquette is still here, and you may see her if you have time to waste; I presume she would chaff you as she did yesterday.”

Cramer looked at me. He knew from experience that when Wolfe gave his word of honor he meant it. He squinted at me, frowning, until I wondered if my tie was crooked. “I thought you did everything right,” he said. “Always cocky. How much did it miss her, with you standing there, about a foot?”

What I would have liked to do you don’t do to a cop, especially an inspector. All I could do was squint back at him. He got to his feet and looked down at Wolfe. “I’m still curious,” he said. “You learned a lot, and of course you learned it from Cather. Do you realize that if he hadn’t buttoned his lip, if he had told us what he told you, all of it, he would have been out before now, and Fleming would be in and still alive? Sure you realize it. But you had to do it. You had to show once more how sharp you are. I wish to God — oh, what’s the use.”

He turned and started for the door, but short of it he stopped and wheeled. “Don’t you think you ought to send flowers to his funeral?”

I would have gone to hold his coat if he hadn’t made that crack. It had missed her by a yard, not a foot. When I heard the front door close, I went to the hall for a look. He was out. I turned and called Julie, and she came around the alcove corner. There was a funny look on her face, as if she was trying to say the alphabet backward and didn’t know how to start. She stopped and fastened the look on me, and I took her arm and steered her into the office. She went to the red leather chair, sank into it, and told Wolfe, “You knew that would happen. You knew it.”

He scowled at her. “I did not. I am not a Chaldean. It was Archie, not I, who gave her the idea. ‘Give an entirely different reason’ was his suggestion, and she seized it. Brilliantly. Archie. What exactly did I say to X?”

“You said, quote, ‘As for Mr. and Mrs. Fleming, the best I could possibly do would be to create a situation which would make it highly unlikely that they would ever disclose it.’ End quote. And that he would be the judge of the situation.”

“I called her a beetle,” Julie said. “My God, she must be... first her sister, and now her husband. What are you doing, Archie?”

I had got a quarter from my pocket and tossed it up. “I’m deciding something that can’t be decided any other way.” I bent over for a look. “Tails. She shot him.”

One day last week, I got a letter:

Dear Archie—

Thanks for telling me about Orrie Cather marrying that airline girl. You know what I think of that but I wish them well, I really do. Why not? I say that to people sometimes, I wish you well, and you ought to see them stare.

In a class one day last week we were supposed to say something about imagination and invention and I cleaned it up. I said nearly everything Nero said that day at dinner and it made their eyes pop. They don’t know any better. I’m not sure anybody here knows any better about anything, but I’m giving it a whirl and we’ll see. Somebody here must know something I want to know but I haven’t seen any sign of it yet. How is Fritz? Tell him I can still taste that hedgehog omelet. And the sauce with the sweetbreads.

Write if you want to. I wish you well.