Rex Stout - Immune to Murder

“It’s already eliminated. You’re beyond your depth, Colvin.”

“You certainly are.” Ferris was supporting his bitter rival. “This is preposterous. Go find the poacher.”

“If I may,” Ambassador Kelefy put in diplomatically. “I agree with Mr. Bragan and Mr. Ferris. Americans do not fight even for millions with clubs.”

I could have named him an American who had used a blackjack on a fellow citizen to relieve him of $2.38, but of course he wasn’t an oil tycoon.

“You’re not only beyond your depth,” Bragan told the DA, “but you’re too free with conclusions. Even if that club was the weapon and it came from my woodpile, and therefore it was premeditated, why was it one of us? Anyone could sneak in through the woods and get a stick from the woodpile.”

“True,” Colvin agreed. “Quite true. But it must have been premeditated, and Secretary Leeson must have been a chosen target. As I said, four trained men are exploring that possibility. But the laws of probability compel us to center our attention on this place and the people here. By no means exclusively on you and your five guests; there are five others. Wolfe, Goodwin, and your three servants. The three servants have been questioned, and we’re certainly not through with them. I want to ask you about them. The cook’s name is Michael Samek?”

“Yes. This is ridiculous. Mike has been with me for fifteen years — at my home in New York, in Florida in the winter. The other—”

“Isn’t that a Russian name? Is he a Russian?”

“No. He’s an American. You certainly are seeing things, Colvin. He was born in Buffalo. The other two men are from an agency in New York and I have used them many times. For years. Do you want the name of the agency?”

“We got it from them. Have you any reason whatever to suppose that one of those three might be involved in this?”

“I have not. I have every reason to suppose they aren’t.”

“All right, but you understand they have to be thoroughly checked. Now about Wolfe and Goodwin. The newspaper article said that Wolfe was coming to cook trout for Ambassador Kelefy. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you arrange that?”

“No. Secretary Leeson did.”

“When did they get here?”

“Late yesterday afternoon, just before dinner.”

“Why did Goodwin come along?”

“I suppose to drive the car. Ask him.”

“I intend to. But first please tell me — to your knowledge, was there anything behind that arrangement? Some other reason for getting Wolfe and Goodwin here?”

“No. Not to my knowledge.”

“Then if there was some secret reason, some ulterior motive, for the arrangement, it was known only to Secretary Leeson, who is now dead?”

“I can’t say. It wasn’t known to me.”

Colvin’s eyes went to Wolfe, and he raised his chin and his voice. “I ask you, Wolfe. Goodwin says that the arrangement for your coming here was made on the telephone with Secretary Leeson. Have you any record other than your own memory of what was said on the telephone?”

If he had worked at it for a week he couldn’t have thought up a worse approach.

Wolfe, beside me, sat slowly moving his head from side to side, and I thought he was simply going to clam up and let it go at that. But no. He spoke. “It’s too bad, Mr. Colvin.”

“What’s too bad?”

“That you’re spoiling it. You people have investigated promptly and efficiently, and you have expounded the situation admirably — though I think ‘assumptions’ would be a better word than ‘conclusions’ at this stage. You even show—”

“I asked you a question! Answer it!”

“I shall. You even show commendable spunk in dealing with two billionaires and an ambassador, and I can’t blame you for wanting to impress them by using a sharper tone and a more pugnacious manner for me. Though I don’t blame you, I would certainly tell you to go to the devil but for the fact that my one desire is to leave here and go home. So I suggest a modus operandi . I will make a statement — you have a stenographer there. When I’m through you may ask questions, and I may answer them.”

“I’ve asked one. You can answer that.”

Wolfe shook his head patiently. “I’ve offered a statement. Isn’t that accepted procedure?”

The sheriff, who had returned to the group by the door, called over, “Maybe he’d like it better at the courthouse!”

The DA ignored it. He pushed his specs back up. “Go ahead and make your statement.”

“Yes, sir.” Wolfe was trying not to be smug. He did want to go home. “Eleven days ago I had a telephone call from Washington and was told that Mr. David M. Leeson, Assistant Secretary of State, wished to speak with me. Mr. Leeson, whom I had never met, told me that a fishing party was being arranged for Ambassador Kelefy, newly arrived in this country, and that the ambassador had expressed a desire to eat fresh trout cooked by Nero Wolfe, and would I oblige him. Mr. Leeson said it would be deeply appreciated. I was engaged on a difficult job and reserved my decision. Mr. Leeson phoned me again two days later, and again three days later, and I agreed to go, and he gave me the necessary information. No other matter was mentioned by either of us in any of the conversations.”

“Did Leeson write you about it?”

“No. It was all arranged on the phone. Yesterday morning Mr. Goodwin and I left my house in New York and drove here in my car, arriving around six o’clock. He accompanied me because he always does, and I had so stipulated with Mr. Leeson. He and I dined in this room with the others, and went to our rooms and to bed about ten o’clock. Neither of us had ever before met any of the people here, and neither of us had any private conversation with any of them yesterday or during the night. This morning we arose rather late and breakfasted together in this room at half past nine; we were told that the others, the five men, had all gone fishing before eight o’clock. After breakfast I went to the kitchen to start preparations for cooking lunch, and Mr. Goodwin got himself outfitted for fishing. From that point the account of Mr. Goodwin’s movements will come from him; no doubt he has already furnished it. I stayed in the kitchen until luncheon had been cooked and served; I ate mine in the kitchen; and a little after one o’clock I went to my room and remained there until Mr. Goodwin arrived and told me he had found Mr. Leeson’s body.”

“What time was it—”

“If you please. A little more. You hinted at the possibility — delicately, but you did hint it — of a connection between the attack on Mr. Leeson and the contest for the oil rights which Ambassador Kelefy is negotiating. As the investigation gets hotter I suppose you’ll return to that, in private interviews, and sooner or later someone will certainly mention an incident that occurred in this room last evening at the dinner table. Mr. Goodwin might, since he was casually involved. So I mention it now. Mr. Bragan placed the table, and arranged the seating, so that Mr. Ferris and Mr. Goodwin were toasted before our eyes. Their only alternatives were discourtesy or cremation, and they chose the former; they left the table and played billiards. I don’t suggest that this has any bearing on the murder; I report it only because it was a notable incident and I don’t want to be reproached later for leaving it out.”

Wolfe closed his eyes and opened them again. “That’s all, I think, except to add that I fully realize the pickle you’re in. You are driven to the hypothesis that someone on these premises is a murderer. Eleven of us. The three servants are probably hopeless. Leaving eight. Mrs. Leeson seems highly unlikely. Leaving seven. Ambassador Kelefy, his wife, and Mr. Papps are beyond your reach even for inquisition, let alone indictment. Leaving four. Mr. Bragan and Mr. Ferris are mighty men of great wealth, dangerous to offend without the most conclusive grounds; you will provoke them at your peril. Leaving two, Mr. Goodwin and me. So I understand your eagerness to impeach us, but it’s no good. Don’t waste time and energy on us.”