Rex Stout - The Easter Parade Murder

“Of course, Mr. Bynoe, if you wish.” Frimm was not enthusiastic. Looking at Wolfe, he cleared his throat. “You probably don’t know who I am, or what I am. I am the executive secretary of the Bynoe Rehabilitation Fund, one of Mr. Bynoe’s major interests. It was also one of Mrs. Bynoe’s major interests; she was quite active in the Fund’s work. But that is only to tell you who I am; what Mr. Bynoe wants me to explain is the unfortunate circumstance that I am acquainted with one of the persons with a camera in front of the church. A young woman named Iris Innes.”

His eyes went to Bynoe, but Bynoe merely said, “Go ahead, Henry,” and Frimm returned to Wolfe.

“In fact, Miss Innes and I were engaged to be married, and it was broken off only a month ago. The police have learned that fact and have questioned me about it. They have also questioned me about my relations with Mrs. Bynoe, and some of their questions indicate a suspicion that my engagement with Miss Innes was broken off on account of my feelings about Mrs. Bynoe — a suspicion that is utterly without foundation. But from their questions it appeared that they were actually considering the possibility that Miss Innes had sufficient reason to want to — uh — to harm Mrs. Bynoe. It was absolutely ridiculous, but I felt it was necessary — more than that, it was my duty — to tell Mr. Bynoe about it.”

He looked at Bynoe again, but the philanthropist had his eyes on Wolfe. Frimm asked, “Will that do, Mr. Bynoe?”

Bynoe, not answering, said to Wolfe, “You can see why I said it is a delicate problem. I have spoken with the Police Commissioner, and he was most considerate, but newspaper reporters have already tried to question Frimm about it and the danger is very great. If my wife was murdered it is of course impossible to prevent publicity about a murder, but I will not have her memory defiled by a slur on her personal character — her — her purity. I have also consulted my lawyer, and he has spoken with the District Attorney, but beyond that he seems to think that nothing can be done. So I decided to come to you. If you are as efficient and resourceful as my friend Lewis Hewitt thinks you are, you will know what to do.”

Wolfe was frowning at him. “If you hope, Mr. Bynoe, to keep innuendoes out of the newspapers, abandon the idea. Short of that, what do you want?”

“I want my wife’s memory kept clear of any taint. I want the police to understand that their suspicion of Miss Innes, of her having a motive to harm my wife, is baseless and unwarranted. If my wife was killed by a poisoned needle shot by one of those people with a camera, and I accept that theory because I don’t see how else it could have happened, it must have been one of the three men, and I want him found and punished. Another reason why I came to you is that Mr. Goodwin was there. I understand that he was right next to Miss Innes, between her and one of the men, and surely he can say that her camera was merely an ordinary camera. I want you to stop these absurd and vicious speculations.” He uncurled his fists to intertwine his fingers. “My wife was a pure and fine woman, and this cannot be tolerated.”

Wolfe nodded. “That’s a natural attitude for a man in your position. You have had very little to tolerate. But speculations about a murder can be stopped only one way: expose the culprit.” His head turned. “Mr. Frimm. The most obvious question: has Miss Innes a plausible excuse for being there with a camera?”

Frimm nodded. “Oh, yes. More than plausible. She is a professional photographer, on the staff of Señorita, the magazine. I haven’t spoken with her since — I haven’t seen her, but I presume she was on assignment.”

“When did you see her last?”

“A month ago. When our engagement was broken off.”

“Who and what broke it off?”

“We did. By mutual consent. We agreed that we were not suited for each other.” Frimm’s lips tightened. “As I told you, Mr. Wolfe, this suspicion of the police is completely ridiculous.”

“No doubt.” Wolfe went to Bynoe. “You understand, sir, that I cannot undertake to establish negatives. I cannot end the speculations and innuendoes by proving that Mr. Frimm did not discard Miss Innes because Mrs. Bynoe had supplanted her in his desires, and that Miss Innes was not moved to avenge her smart. These facts can be established only by eliminating them; they can be eliminated only by providing a substitute; and the only acceptable substitute is one of the three men who were there with cameras. Do you know anything about them?”

“No. I have been told their names, but I don’t remember them. My mind is not working. Henry?”

“Yes, Mr. Bynoe. Joseph Herrick, a newspaper photographer, on the Gazette. Augustus Pizzi, with a firm of commercial photographers — just a moment—” Frimm closed his eyes. He opened them. “Yes. All-over Pictures, Incorporated. And Alan Geiss, a free-lance photographer.” He saw I was writing in my notebook, and asked if I had them, and I told him yes. He returned to Wolfe. “I had never heard of any of them, and neither had Mr. Bynoe. So far as we know, none of them ever had anything to do with Mrs. Bynoe or with anything she was connected with.”

Wolfe grunted. “He wouldn’t have, since that would point him. More likely, he was paid to do it; and if he won’t talk, as he surely won’t, where do we look for the man or woman who paid him? Have you any idea, Mr. Frimm?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“No faintest notion?”

“No. I don’t know of anyone who even disliked Mrs. Bynoe, let alone anyone who might want — who might want her to die.”

“Have you, Mr. Bynoe?”

“No. Naturally the police wanted to know that, and I have thought about it. In fact, they insisted, but I could give them no names.”

“Then it’s no wonder they find Miss Innes attractive.” Wolfe lifted his chin. “Let us avoid misunderstanding, sir. If you hire me to end speculations about your wife I will undertake it conditionally, the condition being that I find no reason to doubt your statement that they are without foundation. Should I find such a reason, I withdraw and bill you for my fee, and if I have acquired evidence of a crime I inform the police.”

“You will find no such reason,” Bynoe said stiffly. “And I assure you I would not expect you to suppress evidence of a crime. Your intimation that I might is offensive.” He swallowed. “Mr. Hewitt told me that you would be offensive, and I suppose I must tolerate it — either that or just... go home and sit and wait and do nothing.” His jaw worked. “I accept your condition. My only alternative — No. I accept it. Do you wish a check for a retainer?”

Wolfe said that wasn’t necessary and started asking questions. I had my notebook open, but after half an hour there wasn’t much in it but an assortment of negatives. They knew nothing at all about Herrick or Pizzi or Geiss; they could name no one who might have had a motive; Mrs. Bynoe had come from an old and respected family, the daughter of an Episcopalian bishop, and to their knowledge there was no scar on her past; and so on down the line. The only faint glimmer was contributed by Bynoe: that on Friday evening he had thought something was troubling her and had asked her what it was, and she had said that Good Friday was no day to speak of human failings and she wouldn’t bother him with it until after Easter. That wasn’t much help, since he couldn’t furnish a guess on what it had been.

When I went to let them out I stood on the sill long enough to see that the limousine waiting for them at the curb was a Rolls-Royce, and then returned to the office. Wolfe was hunched forward in his chair with his eyes closed and his lips screwed up.