Rex Stout - Too Many Detectives

“No. Not until court opens in the morning.” Groom got up and went to the table and flattened his hand on the papers. He looked at the special deputy. “Mr. Hyatt, do you want to say anything?”

Hyatt was a lawyer. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but I doubt if it was showing anything much. “Except,” he said, “that I deny all of Wolfe’s allegations and implications regarding me, and that I’ll hold him responsible for them, no. I have nothing to say here and now.” He got up and started for the door. Groom made no move to stop him, and couldn’t be expected to, at least until he had inspected the papers.

Steve Amsel called after him, “Too many detectives, Hyatt!”

Yesterday afternoon I was in the office with Wolfe, discussing a little job we had taken on, when the phone rang and I answered it.

“Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”

“This is Dol Bonner. How are you?”

“Better than ever.”

“Good. May I speak to Mr. Wolfe?”

“Hold it, I’ll see.” I covered the transmitter and turned and told Wolfe. He made a face, hesitated, and reached for his phone. I kept mine to my ear, since I was supposed to unless he told me otherwise.

“Yes, Miss Bonner? Nero Wolfe.”

“How are you?”

“Well, thank you.”

“I’m glad I got you. Of course you’ve heard the news?”

“I don’t know. What news?”

“The jury reached a verdict at noon. They found Hyatt guilty of first-degree murder.”

“So. I hadn’t heard. To be expected, surely.”

“Of course. Why I called, Harland Ide phoned me an hour ago. He thinks it would be a little barbarous to celebrate a man’s conviction for murder, and I agree, so that’s not the idea, but he suggested that we should show our appreciation to you somehow. Anyway, the secretary of state has reported the results of the hearing and we’re all going to keep our licenses, so we could celebrate that. Mr. Ide thought we might have a little dinner for you, just the seven of us, and wanted to know if I approved, and I said I did. Just now he called again and said that Mr. Kerr and Mr. Amsel liked the idea, and he asked me to propose it to you. Any evening you choose next week — or as for that, any other week. We hope you will, and of course Mr. Goodwin. And of course Miss Colt.”

Silence. I was watching Wolfe’s face. His lips were pressed tight.

“Are you on, Mr. Wolfe?”

“Yes, I’m on. I rarely accept invitations to meals.”

“I know. This isn’t a meal, it’s a tribute.”

“Which it would be churlish to decline. Mr. Goodwin thinks I am churlish, but I don’t. I am merely self-indulgent. I offer a counter-suggestion. I too feel appreciation, for the efficient and effective co-operation I received. I suggest that instead of dining at some restaurant, which I suppose is intended, you people come to my house for dinner. Any evening next week except Thursday.”

“But that would be turning it wrong side up!”

“Not at all. I said I feel appreciation too.”

“Well... shall I ask Mr. Ide? And the others?”

“I wish you would.”

“All right. I’ll let you know.”

And she did. In less than an hour. It’s all set for next Wednesday evening. I’m looking forward to it. It will be a treat to see Fritz’s face when he sees Dol Bonner, seated at Wolfe’s right, aim her caramel-colored eyes at him under her long dark lashes.

As for the fifty-fifty split on the blame for our wiretap, that’s still under discussion off and on. And as for my being left off the program that day in the City of Albany, that needed no discussion. Since all the work had to be done by the 48 operatives in New York and there was nothing I could contribute, why deal me in? Especially since I could be useful as a diversion for Groom and the DA.